In echo as the rainy torrent poured;
Bright gleamed the rapid lightning; yet more bright
The war-lust kindled hot in every lord.
To clang of armour the seventh morning stirred
From slumber; restless hoof and champing bit
Aroused the garth; and day, arising, lit
A hundred lances, as, each bolt withdrawn,
The courtyard-gate swung wide with noise far-heard,
And flickering pennons rode into the dawn--
Before his knights, the King, and at his side,