Not thus might he fall, the young, the generous, the gifted.

On foot, his armor hacked and stained with blood, not yet had the word "yield" been shouted in his ear.
"Back, back! leave me this glorious prize!" shouted Lancaster, spurring on his charger through the crowd, and leaping from him the instant he neared the spot where Nigel stood.

"Take heed of my gallant horse, I need him not--I shall not need him now.

Ha! bareheaded too; well, so shall it be with me--hand to hand, foot to foot.

Turn, noble Nigel, we are well-nigh equals now, and none shall come between us." He hastily unclasped his helmet, threw it from his brow, and stood in the attitude of defence.
One moment Sir Nigel paused; his closing foes had fallen from him at the words of their leader; he hesitated one brief instant as to whether indeed he should struggle more, or deliver up his sword to the generous earl, when the shout of triumph from the topmost turret, proclaiming the raising of the banner, fell upon his ear, and nerved him to the onset.
"Noble and generous!" he exclaimed, as their swords crossed.