spake the Prince,
  “Forbear:  there is a worthier,” and the knight
  With some surprise and thrice as much disdain
  Turn’d, and beheld the four, and all his face
  Glow’d like the heart of a great fire at Yule
  So burnt he was with passion, crying out
  “Do battle for it then,” no more; and thrice
  They clash’d together, and thrice they brake their spears. 
  Then each, dishorsed and drawing, lash’d at each
  So often and with such blows, that all the crowd
  Wonder’d, and now and then from distant walls
  There came a clapping as of phantom hands. 
  So twice they fought, and twice they brathed, and still
  The dew of their great labor, and the blood
  Of their strong bodies, flowing, drain’d their force. 
  But either’s force was match’d till Yniol’s cry
  “Remember that great insult done the Queen,”
  Increased Geraint’s, who heaved his blade aloft,
  And crack’d the helmet thro’, and bit the bone
  And fell’d him, and set foot upon his breast
  And said, “Thy name?” To whom the fallen man
  Made answer, groaning, “Edyrn, son of Nudd! 
  Ashamed am I that I should tell it them. 
  My pride is broken:  men have seen my fall.”

    “Then, Edyrn, son of Nudd,” replied Geraint,
  “These two things shalt thou do, or else thou diest. 
  First, thou thyself, with damsel and with dwarf,
  Shalt ride to Arthur’s court, and coming there,
  Crave pardon for that insult done the Queen,
  And shalt abide her judgment on it; next,
  Thou shalt give back their earldom to thy kin. 
  These two things shalt thou do, or thou shalt die.” 
  And Edyrn answered, “These things will I do,
  For I have never yet been overthrown,
  And thou hast overthrown me, and my pride
  Is broken down, for Enid sees my fall!”
  And rising up, he rode to Arthur’s court,
  And there the Queen forgave him easily. 
  And being young, he changed and came to loathe
  His crime of traitor, slowly drew himself
  Bright from his old dark life, and fell at last
  In the great battle fighting for the King.

    But when the third day from the hunting-morn
  Made a low splendor in the world, and wings
  Moved in her ivy, Enid, for she lay
  With her fair head in the dim-yellow light,
  Among the dancing shadows of the birds,
  Woke and bethought her of her promise given
  No later than last eve to Prince Geraint—­
  So bent he seem’d on going the third day,
  He would not leave her, till her promise given—­
  To ride with him this morning to the court,
  And there be made known to the stately Queen,
  And there be wedded with all ceremony. 
  At this she cast her eyes upon her dress,
  And thought it never yet had look’d so mean. 
  For as a leaf in mid-November is
  To what it was in mid-October, seem’d
  The dress that now she look’d on to the dress