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The Song of the Errant Knight

In armor drest, with flowing crest,
   And good brand at my side,
By hill and dale, and wooded vale,
   From Camelot I ride.
On emprise bent, I am content,
   Where'er my lot may be,
If it but leads to gallant deeds
   And feats of chivalry.

At times, perchance, I couch my lance
   To meet some stranger knight,
Spur, charge full tilt, and grasp my hilt
   When oak shafts splinter quite.
God lends his aid to my staunch blade,
   As bites each sweeping blow,
All foes must yield, drop mace and shield,
   And reel o'er saddle-bow.

And east and west, at maid's behest,
   I ride from dawn till night,
In donjon keep where ladies weep,
   I break false traitors' might.
But when I long for wassail song
   And chivalry's fierce sport,
Good-by to strife and a roving life,
And back to Arthur's Court!