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THE SEVEN CHAMPIONS
That champion good, bold Saint Andrew,
The famous Scottish knight, ito
Dark gloomy deserts travelled through,
Where Phoebus gave no light. Haunted with spirits, for a while
His weary course he steers, Till fortune blessed him with a smile, 175
And shook off all his fears.
This Christian champion travell'd long,
Till at the length he came Unto the giant's castle strong,
Great Blanderon by name, ia>
Where the king's daughters were transform'd
Into the shape of swans : Though them he freed, their father storm'd,
But he his malice shuns.
For though five hundred armed knights u®
Did straight beset him round, Our Christian champion with them fights,
Till on the heathen ground Most of those Pagans bleeding lay;
Which much perplexed the king; i»
The Scottish champion clears the way,
Which was a glorious thing.
Saint Patrick too, of Ireland, That noble knight of fame, He travelled, as we understand, 195