With burning heart, and visage red with shame, He thinks the knight's disgrace is all his own, Because by deeds like his with whom he came, He weens the mob expects to see him known.
So that it now behoves his valour flame More clear than light, or they, to censure prone, -- Errs he a finger's breadth -- an inch -- will swell His fault, and of that inch will make an ell.