Now the Silver Knight had sworn—that the Standard so long borne
By the Aureate One, in scorn irreducible
Should not solitary wave. He'd squabosh that champion brave,
Or would find a torrid grave—
In some crucible!
Such cremation he would dare if that Standard he might bear
To the dust, and upraise there one more Silvery.
For this Argent Knight, though pale, was right sure he could not fail,
He was proud of his white mail,
And his skill—very!