The Tourney
By Alfred Lord Tennyson
Ralph would fight in Ediths sight,
For Ralph was Ediths lover,
Ralph went down like a fire to the fight,
Struck to the left and struck to the right,
Rolld them over and over.
Gallant Sir Ralph, said the king.
Casques were crackd and hauberks hackd,
Lances snapt in sunder,
Rang the stroke, and sprang the blood,
Knights were thwackd and riven, and hewd
Like broad oaks with thunder.
O what an arm, said the king.
Edith bowd her stately head,
Saw them lie confounded,
Edith Montfort bowd her head,
Crownd her knights, and flushd as red
As poppies when she crownd it.
Take her Sir Ralph, said the king.