Straight to the city ride the martial band, And, through the high-street, to the crowded place;
Where, waiting for the royal signal, stand, Ranged here and there, the knights of gentle race.
The guerdons destined to the conqueror's hand, In that day's tourney, were a tuck and mace Richly adorned, and, with them, such a steed As to the winning lord were fitting meed.
