Then Sir Marrak in malencoly   meetes him soon,
With a malled mace   mightyly him strikes;
The bordour of his bacenett   he bristes in sonder,
That the shire red blood   over his breny runnes!
The berne blenkes for bale   and all his blee changes,
But yet he bides as a bore   and bremly he strikes!
He braides out a brand   bright als ever any silver
That was Sir Arthur owen,   and Utere his faders,
In the wardrope at Walingford   was wont to be keeped;
Therewith the derf dog   such dintes he reched
The tother withdrew on dregh   and drust do none other
For Sir Marrak was man   marred in elde,
And Sir Mordred was mighty   and in his most strenghes;
Come none within the compass,   knight ne none other,
Within the swing of sword,   that he ne the swet leved.

Alliterative Morte Arthur