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Your charms shall gifted minstrels sing
And vassals bend the knee,
Your welcome through my halls shall ring
With songs and revelry;
And as the festal board you grace,
Or lead the joyous dance,
The pleasures round you shall efface
The thoughts of distant France.
My lineage I will scorn to name
Though high its boast may be—
I leave the trumpet tongue of fame
To tell thee my degree;
For I have borne me in the fight
Through many a toilsome day,
As best becomes an English knight—
The foremost in the fray.
