Or very foolish; only this I know, That whatsoever evil happen to me, I seem to suffer nothing heart or limb, But can endure it all most patiently.” “Well said, true heart,” replied Geraint, “but arms, That if the sparrow-hawk, this nephew, fight In next day’s tourney I may break his pride.” And Yniol answered, “Arms, indeed, but old And rusty, old and rusty, Prince Geraint, Are mine, and therefore at thy asking, thine. But in this tournament can no man tilt, Except the lady he loves best be there. Two forks are fixt into the meadow ground, And over these is placed a silver wand, And over that a golden sparrow-hawk, The prize of beauty for the fairest there. And this, what knight soever be in field Lays claim to for the lady at his side, And tilts with my good nephew thereupon, Who being apt at arms and big of bone Has ever won it for the lady with him, And toppling over all antagonism Has earned himself the name of sparrow-hawk.” But thou, that hast no lady, canst not fight.” To whom Geraint with eyes all bright replied, Leaning a little toward him, “Thy leave! Let me lay lance in rest, O noble host, For this dear child, because I never saw, Though having seen all beauties of our time, Nor can see elsewhere, anything so fair. And if I fall her name will yet remain Untarnished as before; but if I live, So aid me Heaven when at mine uttermost, As I will make her truly my true wife.” Then, howsoever patient, Yniol’s heart Danced in his bosom, seeing better days, And looking round he saw not Enid there, (Who hearing her own name had stolen away) But that old dame, to whom full tenderly And folding all her hand in his he said, “Mother, a maiden is a tender thing, And best by her that bore her understood. Go thou to rest, but ere thou go to rest Tell her, and prove her heart toward the Prince.”