"O sombre Little-faith, miscalled the Bold!
Not if I know it! 'Tis a beauteous blade—
Broad, and bejewelled, and but lately gript
By my long-waiting hand. I have it now,
And if indeed I cast the brand away,
Surely a craven donkey I shall be!
What good should follow this, if this were done?
What harm undone? By George! Sir Bedivere,
'Twixt frivolling Gawain and too doleful you,
I have a pretty pair of knightly pals,—