His horse in fyne sandel was trapped to þe hele,
And in his cheuerone biforne,
Stode as ane vnicorne,
Als sharp as a þorne,
An Anlas of stele.
Line 390
XXXI.
¶ In stele he was stuffed, þat stourne vppone stede,
Al of sternes of golde his pencelle displaied;
His gloues, his gamesons glowed as a glede,
With graynes of rebe þat graied bene gay;
And his schene schynbandes, þat sharp were to shrede.
Line 395
His polemus with pelicocus were poudred to pay; [folio 7a]
Withe a launce one loft þat louely cone lede;
A freke one a fresone him folowed, in fay.
The Fresone was a-fered, for drede of þat fare,
For he was seldene wonte to se
Line 400
The tablet flure,
Siche gamen ne gle,
Saȝ he neuer are.
XXXII.
¶ Arthur asked one hiȝte, herand hem alle:
"What woldes þou, wee, if hit be thi wille?
Line 405
Tel me what þou seches, and wheþer þou shalle,
And whi, þou sturne one þi stede, stondes so stille?"
He wayned vp his viser fro his ventalle,
With a knightly contenaunce he carpes him tille:
"Wheþer þou Cayser or king, here I þe be-calle,
Line 410
Fore to finde me a freke, to fight with my fille;
Fighting to fraist I fonded fro home."
