Poem by Vidal on Himself

Sir Dragoman, had I a goodly steed,
Soon would my enemies for mercy plead;
For even when they hear of men my name,
They fear me more than quail doth fear hawk's greed;
Nor prize their life a doit, so fierce of deed,
So stern they know me, and so great my fame.

When donned my glitt'ring, steel-lined coat of mail,
And girt my sword, Hugh's gift that cannot fail,
Whither I go, the earth doth shake with fear;
No foes I meet that do not 'fore me pale,
And yield me place; nought doth their pride avail,
So great their terror when my step they hear.

Roland and Oliver in one am I,
With Montdidier in courtesy I vie;
Full often messengers do bear to me
For my great worth and for my valour high,
Gold rings and bands of white and sable dye,
And greetings that fill all my heart with glee.

When vanquished 'fore me jealous mockers kneel,
Who by false semblance would their craft conceal,
And by fair means or foul would joy condemn —
These verily shall learn what blows I deal,
For, be their bodies made of iron or steel,
No peacock's feather shall it profit them.

Of chivalry and love I am the flower,
Bravest among the brave — in lady's bower
Is none more courteous and more debonair,
Nor in the battle-field of greater power,
So that my enemies in terror cower
At thought of me, nor to confront me dare.