Walter monologue (Act 3) — The Indian Princess; Or, La Belle Sauvage

It was at Regal, close beleaguer'd then By the duke Sigismund of Transylvania, Our captain's general. One day, from the gate There issued a gigantic mussulman, And threw his gauntlet down upon the ground, Daring our christian knights to single combat. It was our captain, sir, pick'd up the glove, And scarce the trump had sounded to the onset, When the Turk Turbisha had lost his head. His brother, fierce Grualdo, enter'd next, But left the lists sans life or turban too. Last came black Bonamolgro, and he paid The same dear forfeit for the same attempt. And now my master, like a gallant knight, His sabre studied o'er with ruby gems, Prick'd on his prancing courser round the field, In vain inviting fresh assailants; while The beauteous dames of Regal, who, in throngs Lean'd o'er the rampart to behold the tourney, Threw show'rs of scarfs and favours from the wall, And wav'd their hands, and bid swift Mercuries Post from their eyes with messages of love; While manly modesty and graceful duty Wav'd on his snowy plume, and, as he rode, Bow'd down his casque unto the saddle bow.