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Knight-errant of unfriended Truth, he blew
His magic note that charmed the air to song
Before grim castles, and to frowning Wrong
Flung down his gauntlet. Giant Error flew,
Full-armed, to crush him; but his falchion true
Smote the foul monster prone the earth along.
Meat from the eater, honey from the strong,
Not he, but others, through his conflict drew.

Alert, unwearied, with his lance at rest,
What wonder he should win where others fail?
Each high emprise led up to farther quest;
No selfish rust bedimmed his shining mail:
Of all our Table Round the purest, best,--
Our Galahad beheld the Holy Grail!

T. C. P. Boston, April, 1891.

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