Sir Thopas drew aback full fast; This giant at him stonës cast Out of a fell staff sling: But fair escaped Child Thopas, And all it was through Goddë’s grace, And through his fair bearíng. Yet listen, lordings, to my tale, Merrier than the nightingale, For now I will you rown, 3893 How Sir Thopas, with sidës smale, Pricking over hill and dale, Is come again to town. His merry men commanded he To makë him both game and glee; For needës must he fight With a giánt with headës three, For paramour and jollity Of one that shone full bright. “Do 3894 come,” he saidë, “my minstráles And gestours 3895