FYTTE 10
How Red Gui sore smitten was in fight
By motley Fool in borrowed armour dight.
* * * * *
Now shrill tucket and clarion, trumpet and horn
With their cheery summons saluted the morn,
Where the sun, in his splendour but newly put on,
Still more splendid made pennon and brave gonfalon
That with banners and pennoncelles fluttered and flew
High o'er tent and pavilion of every hue.
For the lists were placed here, for the tournament set,
Where already a bustling concourse was met;
Here were poor folk and rich folk, lord, lady and squire,
Clad in leather, in cloth and in silken attire;
Here folk pushed and folk jostled, as people still do
When the sitters be many, the seats scant and few;
Here was babble of voices and merry uproar,
For while some folk laughed loud, some lost tempers and swore.
Until on a sudden this tumult and riot
Was hushed to a murmur that sank into quiet
As forth into the lists, stern of air, grave of face,
Five fine heralds, with tabard and trumpet, did pace
With their Lion-at-arms, or Chief Herald, before;
And a look most portentous this Chief Herald wore,
And, though portly his shape and a little too round,
Sure a haughtier Chief Herald could nowhere be found.
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