But Arthur would not eat till all were served.
He was so jolly and energetic, and somewhat boyish.
He liked his life little, and he loved the less
either laying too long or too long sitting,
his young blood and wild brain so busied him.
And also another manner moved him besides,
which was borne of his nobility: he’d never eat
on such a dear day, until he was told
an astonishing tale of daring adventure,
of a mighty marvel that he might believe—
of elders, of armies, of other adventures—
or else till some soldier besought a self-certain knight
to join with him in jousting, in jeopardy, to lay
life against life, and allow each other,
as fortune would fain, a fair advantage.
This was the king’s custom in court festivities,
at each fine feast among his free servants
            in the hall.
            Therefore with face so fair
            he stands up stiff and tall,
            so young in that New Year,
            making much mirth with all.