Sir Palamedes

His hand upon the Beast. Then blew Each angel on his trumpet, then All Heaven resounded that it knew Sir Palamede the Saracen Was master! Through the domes of death, Through all the mighty realms of men And spirits breathed the Beauteous Breath : They taste the Goodly Gift of Grace. —Now ’tis the chronicler that saith: Our Saviour grant in little space That also I, even I, be blest Thus, though so evil is my case— Let them that read my rime attest The same sweet unction in my pen— That writes in pure blood of my breast; For that I figure unto men The story of my proper quest As thine, first Eastern in the West, Sir Palamede the Saracen ! 113