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The southern entrance I pass'd through,
HUS judging, for a little space
I listen'd, ere I left the place ;
A mounted champion rise.
I myself may say,
I trembled with affright ;
My hand so shook for very fear,
I scarce could couch it right.
HY need my tongue the issue tell ?
our course,-my charger
fell ;What could he 'gainst the shock of hell ?
I roll’d upon the plain.
Yet did the worst remain :
Their sight, like what I saw !
And held my breath for awe.
I well believe the last ;
So grimly and so ghast. Thrice o'er my head he shook the blade ; But when to good Saint George I pray'd, (The first time e'er I ask'd his aid,)
He plunged it in the sheath ;
Sunk down upon the heath.-
To know his face, that met me there,
upper Dead or alive, good cause had he To be my mortal enemy.”—
ARVELL'D Sir David of the Mount;
Then, learn’d in story, 'gan recount Such chance had happ'd of old, When once, near Norham, there did fight A spectre fell of fiendish might, In likeness of a Scottish knight,
With Brian Bulmer boid,