Of tourney came, and on his way
 He pressed his charger’s speed apace
 To reach, before his friends, the place,
 He saw a church hard by the road
 And heard the church-bells sounding loud
 To celebrate the holy mass. 
 Without a thought the church to pass
 The knight drew rein, and entered there
 To seek the aid of God in prayer.

High and dear they chanted then
 A solemn mass to Mary Queen;
 Then afresh began again. 
 Lost in his prayers the good knight stayed;
 With all his heart to Mary prayed;
 And, when the second one was done,
 Straightway the third mass was begun,
 Right there upon the self-same place. 
 “Sire, for mercy of God’s grace!”
 Whispered his squire in his ear;
 “The hour of tournament is near;
 Why do you want to linger here? 
 Is it a hermit to become,
 Or hypocrite, or priest of Rome? 
 Come on, at once! despatch your prayer! 
 Let us be off to our affair!”

The accent of truth still lingers in this remonstrance of the squire, who must, from all time, have lost his temper on finding his chevalier addicted to “papelardie” when he should have been fighting; but the priest had the advantage of telling the story and pointing the moral.  This advantage the priest neglected rarely, but in this case he used it with such refinement and so much literary skill that even the squire might have been patient.  With the invariable gentle courtesy of the true knight, the chevalier replied only by soft words:—­

   “Amis!” ce dist li chevalier,
    “Cil tournoie moult noblement
     Qui le servise dieu entent.”

In one of Milton’s sonnets is a famous line which is commonly classed among the noblest verses of the English language:—­

   “They also serve, who only stand and wait.”

Fine as it is, with the simplicity of the grand style, like the “Chanson de Roland” the verse of Milton does not quite destroy the charm of thirteenth-century diction:—­

   “Friend!” said to him the chevalier,
    “He tourneys very nobly too,
     Who only hears God’s service through!”

No doubt the verses lack the singular power of the eleventh century; it is not worth while to pretend that any verse written in the thirteenth century wholly holds its own against “Roland":—­

   “Sire cumpain! faites le vus de gred? 
     Ja est co Rollanz ki tant vos soelt amer!”

The courtesy of Roland has the serious solidity of the Romanesque arch, and that of Lancelot and Aucassins has the grace of a legendary window; but one may love it, all the same; and one may even love the knight,—­papelard though he were,—­as he turned back to the altar and remained in prayer until the last mass was ended.

Then they mounted and rode on toward the field, and of course you foresee what had happened.  In itself the story is bald enough, but it is told with such skill that one never tires of it.  As the chevalier and the squire approached the lists, they met the other knights returning, for the jousts were over; but, to the astonishment of the chevalier, he was greeted by all who passed him with shouts of applause for his marvellous triumph in the lists, where he had taken all the prizes and all the prisoners:—­