"So help me God!" quoth Beves then,
"It were no mastery, me to slay,
For this is the fourth day agone,
Meat nor drink nor bot I none:
Ac nonetheless, God it wot,
If I all needs mot,
It I will assay,
A lite box thee to pay!"
King Grander was of heart grim
And rode to Bevis and he to him;
And as they both together met,
With their lances they gonne meet,
That it gonnen all to-drive
And to bursting in pieces five.
Their swords draw knights stout
And fighteth fast, it is no doubt;
The meadow squaughte of their dents,
The fire fly out, so spark of flints;
Thus they laid on in both sides
Between midmorn and undertide.

Lines 1737-1756