The lists now presented a most splendid spectacle. The sloping galleries

were crowded with all that was noble, great, wealthy, and beautiful

in the northern and midland parts of England; and the contrast of the

various dresses of these dignified spectators, rendered the view as

gay as it was rich, while the interior and lower space, filled with the

substantial burgesses and yeomen of merry England, formed, in their more

plain attire, a dark fringe, or border, around this circle of brilliant

embroidery, relieving, and, at the same time, setting off its splendour.

The heralds finished their proclamation with their usual cry of

"Largesse, largesse, gallant knights!" and gold and silver pieces were

showered on them from the galleries, it being a high point of chivalry

to exhibit liberality towards those whom the age accounted at once the

secretaries and the historians of honour. The bounty of the spectators

was acknowledged by the customary shouts of "Love of Ladies--Death of

Champions--Honour to the Generous--Glory to the Brave!" To which the

more humble spectators added their acclamations, and a numerous band of

trumpeters the flourish of their martial instruments. When these sounds

had ceased, the heralds withdrew from the lists in gay and glittering

procession, and none remained within them save the marshals of the

field, who, armed cap-a-pie, sat on horseback, motionless as statues,

at the opposite ends of the lists. Meantime, the enclosed space at the

northern extremity of the lists, large as it was, was now completely

crowded with knights desirous to prove their skill against the

challengers, and, when viewed from the galleries, presented the

appearance of a sea of waving plumage, intermixed with glistening

helmets, and tall lances, to the extremities of which were, in many

cases, attached small pennons of about a span's breadth, which,

fluttering in the air as the breeze caught them, joined with the

restless motion of the feathers to add liveliness to the scene.

At length the barriers were opened, and five knights, chosen by lot,

advanced slowly into the area; a single champion riding in front, and

the other four following in pairs. All were splendidly armed, and my

Saxon authority (in the Wardour Manuscript) records at great length

their devices, their colours, and the embroidery of their horse

trappings. It is unnecessary to be particular on these subjects. To

borrow lines from a contemporary poet, who has written but too little: "The knights are dust,

And their good swords are rust,

Their souls are with the saints, we trust." [17]

Their escutcheons have long mouldered from the walls of their castles.

Their castles themselves are but green mounds and shattered ruins--the

place that once knew them, knows them no more--nay, many a race since

theirs has died out and been forgotten in the very land which they

occupied, with all the authority of feudal proprietors and feudal

lords. What, then, would it avail the reader to know their names, or the

evanescent symbols of their martial rank!




readonlinefreebook.com Copyright 2016 - 2024