Futility Closet An idler's miscellany of compendious amusements

The White King looked around, and noted how
Our ranks were thinned and broken, so that now
Our small successes were not worth the cost;
And said, “We must resign, the day is lost!”
“But not the Knight!” so spake a horseman brave:
“My steed says neigh, the day we yet may save.”
Then turned the King, and, frowning darkly, said:
“Such jesting, good Sir Knight, may cost your head.
He who would make a pun at such a time
Is capable of any other crime;
But one more chance I give you — Forward ride,
And lead a hope forlorn. If good betide,
Perhaps I may forgive you for the pun,
And if you fall but little harm is done!”

Forth spurred the Knight, regardless of his life,
And rode at once where thickest raged the strife.
To such a spot he dashed, that whilst he braved
Five sorts of slaughter, still the day he saved;
For should the foeman dare to lay him low,
He leaves his King a prey to vassal’s blow;
And should the King himself the victim slay,
A priest steps in with stroke that none can stay;
Whilst if they should decide to spare the Knight,
And try to shield their Monarch from his might,
They yet would fail, for still his falchion bright
Descends with fell effect from left or right.