And heads were only worth the wear
When crowned with coronet.
There was a right good noble knight,
Sir Bullstrode was his name[A]--
A name which he acquired by fight,
And with it meikle fame.
Upon his burnished shield he bore
A head of bull caboshed
(For so they speak in herald lore),
And for his crest he aptly wore
Two bones of marrow crossed.
[Footnote A: A knight called Bullstrode, as having got his name
in the way set forth, is mentioned by Guillim; but whether he is
the same as he who figures in the Scotch legend I do not know.]
For he had slain in tournay set
Full many a blazoned fool;
Nor would he deem his praise complete
Till he had slain a bull.
He threw the gauntlet at the brute,
Which was received with scorn,
For Taurus straight the gauntlet took,
Then in the air the bauble shook,
And tossed it on his horn.
To fight they went with might and main,
And fought a good long hour;
The knight's long lance was broke in twain--
Sir Bull had now the power;
The ladies laughed, the barons too,
As they Sir Bull admired!
But where fair ladies are to view,
Who may declare what knight may do,
By noble emprise fired?
The knight he paused amid the claque,
And threw a look of scorn:
Sir Bull has Bullstrode on his back,
Who held by either horn;
And round the ring, and round the ring,
Rushed bull in wild affray,
Stamping, roaring, bellowing,--
And, stumbling, gave his neck a wring,
And Bullstrode won the day.
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