... there was a hero in Ireland, by name Morholt, the brother-in-law of the Irish King, who held him very dear, as by his means he compelled tribute from all the neighbouring kingdoms of the country.  This chief took it into his head that his honour was concerned in the subjugation of Cornwall also, in consequence of which notion he sent a message to King Marks to demand tribute:  "I will have," said he, "all your males above fifteen, that they may be my slaves, and all your girls of the same age, that I may make money by their dishonour.   If, however, you have a knight strong enough to overcome me in single combat, then I forgive the tribute."
    Sir Tristan no sooner heard this modest request than he determined to try his fortune against Morholt, the more especially as all the knights of his uncle's court had absolutely refused the combat.  By stratagem he gained the king's consent, and on the appointed day he stood in the lists against the appellant, who, taking pity on his youth, would fain have persuaded him from the field.  To this Sir Tristan would by no means agree; the champions met; the giant was beaten from his horse, and the knight on his part was wounded by a poisoned spear, a little contrary indeed to the morals of chivalry, but somehow or another, your giants were never famous for morality, from the time they stormed Jupiter's heaven to the days of Jack the Giant Killer.  The combat was renewed on foot, and Morholt, after a sharp struggle, was left dead upon the field... (The Flowers of Literature, Oxberry, 1822)