His acton it was all of blacke, 65 His hewberke and his sheelde; Ne noe man wist whence he did come, Ne noe man knewe where he did gone, When they came out the feelde.[L69] And now three days were prestlye past 70 In feates of chivalrye, When lo, upon the fourth morninge, A sorrowfulle sight they see: A hugye giaunt stiffe and starke, All foule of limbe and lere, 75 Two goggling eyen like fire farden, A mouthe from eare to eare. Before him came a dwarffe full lowe, That waited on his knee; And at his backe five heads he bare, 80 All wan and pale of blee. "Sir," quoth the dwarffe, and louted lowe, "Behold that hend Soldain! Behold these heads I beare with me! They are kings which he hath slain. 85 "The Eldridge knight is his own cousine, Whom a knight of thine hath shent; And hee is come to avenge his wrong: And to thee, all thy knightes among, Defiance here hath sent. 90 "But yette he will appease his wrath, Thy daughters love to winne; And, but thou yeelde him that fayre mayd, Thy halls and towers must brenne. "Thy head, syr king, must goe with mee, 95 Or else thy daughter deere: Or else within these lists soe broad, Thou must finde him a peere." The king he turned him round aboute, And in his heart was woe: 100 "Is there never a knighte of my round table This matter will undergoe? "Is there never a knighte amongst yee all Will fight for my daughter and mee? Whoever will fight yon grimme Soldan, 105 Right fair his meede shall bee. "For hee shall have my broad lay-lands, And of my crowne be heyre; And he shall winne fayre Christabelle To be his wedded fere." 110 But every knighte of his round table Did stand both still and pale; For, whenever they lookt on the grim Soldan, It made their hearts to quail. All woe-begone was that fayre ladye, 115 When she sawe no helpe was nye: She cast her thought on her owne true-love, And the teares gusht from her eye. Up then sterte the stranger knighte, Sayd, "Ladye, be not affrayd; 120 Ile fight for thee with this grimme Soldan, Thoughe he be unmacklye made. "And if thou wilt lend me the Eldridge sworde, That lyeth within thy bowre, I truste in Christe for to slay this fiende, 125 Thoughe he be stiff in stowre."