So hollow and so faintly blown,
It might be echo of my own.’
I waited for a moment in doubt.
‘Then sudden in the ring I view,
In form distinct of shape and hue,
A mounted champion rise.’
Without a word the demon prepared for the charge; I raised my shield, couched my lance, and rushed to the attaint; we both staggered with the charge; our lances broke in half, but the points glided harmlessly from our armor. I still pressed on, and my adversary’s horse stumbled and fell; the demon was rolled on the ground. In a moment I was by his side, and seized his horse’s rein; the demon seemed to revive; he saw my action, snatched a portion of his broken lance, and darted it at me as a javelin. It struck me on my thigh, but in my eagerness I felt it not. In a moment
‘He seem’d to vanish from my sight:
The moonbeam droop’d, and deepest night
Sunk down upon the heath.’