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Article LAYS OF THE CRUSADES. Page 1 of 2 →
Note: This text has been automatically extracted via Optical Character Recognition (OCR) software.
Lays Of The Crusades.
LAYS OF THE CRUSADES .
I . —SAPHET . * THE walls of Saphet Castle AVere stately built and strong ; Like whirlwind from the desert , came Dark Coradin along . Afar in distant Egypt
, The Master-Templars fought : Ah , little dreamed they of the woe That was on Saphet wrought ! The red-cross there waved proudly , To meet the rising sun ; The crescent glittered in its stead ,
Before the day was done . Levelled lay Saphet ' s ramparts , — " AA ^ here shall the passers-by A resting-place and refuge find ? " The weary pilgrims cry . *****
I stood upon that summit , A throng were gathered round ; A thousand thousand voices shout , A thousand trumpets sound . But who is he , the mitred , AVith measured steps and slow
, That doth approach yon massy stone , And thrice he strikes the blow ; Lifting the golden mallet AVith solemn grace and mien , AVhile by his side a stalwart knight On his crossed sword doth lean .
God bless thee , thou good prelate , Thou Benedict of Marseilles ! For skilled in mystic lore thou art , To save from Satan ' s wiles .
Note: This text has been automatically extracted via Optical Character Recognition (OCR) software.
Lays Of The Crusades.
LAYS OF THE CRUSADES .
I . —SAPHET . * THE walls of Saphet Castle AVere stately built and strong ; Like whirlwind from the desert , came Dark Coradin along . Afar in distant Egypt
, The Master-Templars fought : Ah , little dreamed they of the woe That was on Saphet wrought ! The red-cross there waved proudly , To meet the rising sun ; The crescent glittered in its stead ,
Before the day was done . Levelled lay Saphet ' s ramparts , — " AA ^ here shall the passers-by A resting-place and refuge find ? " The weary pilgrims cry . *****
I stood upon that summit , A throng were gathered round ; A thousand thousand voices shout , A thousand trumpets sound . But who is he , the mitred , AVith measured steps and slow
, That doth approach yon massy stone , And thrice he strikes the blow ; Lifting the golden mallet AVith solemn grace and mien , AVhile by his side a stalwart knight On his crossed sword doth lean .
God bless thee , thou good prelate , Thou Benedict of Marseilles ! For skilled in mystic lore thou art , To save from Satan ' s wiles .