Marmion
img img Marmion img Chapter 91 No.91
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Chapter 91 No.91

"Didst never, good my youth, hear tell,

That on the hour when I was born,

Saint George, who graced my sire's chapelle,

Down from his steed of marble fell,

A weary wight forlorn?

The flattering chaplains all agree,

The champion left his steed to me.

I would, the omen's truth to show,

That I could meet this elfin foe!

Blith

            
            

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