The trumpets, next the gate, in order placed, Attend the sign to sound the martial blast; The palace-yard is fill'd with floating tides, And the last comers bear the former to the sides. The throng is in the midst: the common crew Shut out, the hall admits the better few; In knots they stand, or in a rank they walk, 470 Serious in aspect, earnest in their talk; Factious, and favouring this or the other side, As their strong fancy or weak reason guide: Their wagers back their wishes; numbers hold With the fair freckled king, and beard of gold: So vigorous are his eyes, such rays they cast, So prominent his eagle's beak is placed. But most their looks on the black monarch bend, His rising muscles, and his brawn commend; His double-biting axe, and beamy spear, 480 Each asking a gigantic force to rear. All spoke as partial favour moved the mind; And, safe themselves, at others' cost divined. Waked by the cries, the Athenian chief arose, The knightly forms of combat to dispose; And passing through the obsequious guards, he sate Conspicuous on a throne, sublime in state; There, for the two contending knights he sent; Arm'd cap-a-pie, with reverence low they bent; He smiled on both, and with superior look 490 Alike their offer'd adoration took. The people press on every side to see Their awful prince, and hear his high decree. Then signing to their heralds with his hand, They gave his orders from their lofty stand. Silence is thrice enjoin'd; then thus aloud The king-at-arms bespeaks the knights and listening crowd: Our sovereign lord has ponder'd in his mind The means to spare the blood of gentle kind; And of his grace, and inborn clemency, 500 He modifies his first severe decree! The keener edge of battle to rebate, The troops for honour fighting, not for hate: He wills, not death should terminate their strife, And wounds, if wounds ensue, be short of life: But issues, ere the fight, his dread command, That slings afar, and poniards hand to hand, Be banish'd from the field; that none shall dare With shorten'd sword to stab in closer war; But in fair combat fight with manly strength, 510 Nor push with biting point, but strike at length; The tourney is allow'd but one career, Of the tough ash, with the sharp-grinded spear; But knights unhorsed may rise from off the plain, And fight on foot their honour to regain; Nor, if at mischief taken, on the ground Be slain, but prisoners to the pillar bound, At either barrier placed; nor (captives made), Be freed, or arm'd anew the fight invade. The chief of either side, bereft of life, 520 Or yielded to his foe, concludes the strife. Thus dooms the lord: now, valiant knights and young, Fight each his fill with swords and maces long.