Sir Palamedes

100 Thief of my arms, my crest, my quest, My name, now meetest thou thy shame. See, with this whip I lash thee back, Back to the kennel whence there came So false a hound.” ‘Good knight, in sooth,” Answered Sir Palamede, “not I Presume to assert the idlest truth ; And here, by this good ear and eye, I grant thou art Sir Palamede. But—try the first and final test If thou or I be he. Take heed!” He backed his horse, covered his breast, Drove his spurs home, and rode upon That knight. His lance-head fairly struck The barred strength of his morion, And rolled the stranger in the muck. “ Now, by God’s death!” quoth Palamede, His sword at work, “I will not leave So much of thee as God might feed His sparrows with. As I believe The sweet Christ’s mercy shall avail, So will I not have aught for thee ; Since every bone of thee may rail Against me, crying treachery.