Shouting to the Tournament.
Pilgrims with their hood and cowl,
Pursy burghers cheek by jowl,
Archers with their peacock’s wing
Fitting to the waxen string,
Pedlars with their pack and bags,
Beggars with their coloured rags,
Silent monks, whose stony eyes
Rest in trance upon the skies,
Children sleeping at the breast,