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Equinox I (04).pdf

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XXIII<br />

NOW still he holdeth argument:<br />

“So grand a Beast must house him well;<br />

Hence, now beseemeth me frequent<br />

Cathedral, palace, citadel.”<br />

So, riding fast among the flowers<br />

Far off, a Gothic spire he spies,<br />

That like a gladiator towers<br />

Its spear-sharp splendour to the skies.<br />

The people cluster round, acclaim:<br />

“Sir Knight, good knight, thy quest is won.<br />

Here dwells the Beast in orient flame,<br />

Spring-sweet, and swifter than the sun!”<br />

Sir Palamede the Saracen<br />

Spurs to the shrine, afire to win<br />

The end; and all the urgent men<br />

Throng with him eloquently in.<br />

Sir Palamede his vizor drops;<br />

He lays his loyal lance in rest;<br />

He drives the rowels home—he stops!<br />

Faugh! but a black-mouthed money-chest!<br />

63

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