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FRIEDERICH WERNER The Templars in Cyprus


Sir John Froissart's Chronicles of England, France, Spain and the Ajoining Countries from the latter part of the reign of Edward II to the coronation of Henry IV in 12 volumes 

Chronicles of Enguerrand De Monstrelet (Sir John Froissart's Chronicles continuation) in 13 volumes 

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The Templars in Cyprus
page 77

TUE TEMPLARS IN' CYPRUS. " I ask not repose, I'm not tired." said the knight, " But no more I'll fight. Wounded sore, out of the battle I've come, And I'll rest myself soon at my house at home, And no more in Crusades I'll fight." " But hast thou a dwelling-site r " " Tis Goldburg—" " Ah, there I had shelter one night." " And how was my true wife ? for news I am fain ! " " She died in lier pain." " What sayest thou, priest ?" " Tliy children are dead. Slain by thy foa in the evening," he said. " My sword shall pay back blood and pain When I como to my house again ! " " Thy house lios in ashes, an omen .'—refrain 1 " " Let me press on ! " " But whither ? " " To seek my foe " Thou'rt too weak to go, Thy servants have all from thy retinue fled, Thy friends are o'er all the land scattered and spread, Thou scarce for thy wounds can'st go." And e'en as the priest said so, He broke the knight's lance at a blow. " What doest thou, priest ? " cried ho desperately, And his sword grasped lie ; The priest did but touch it, it snapped in two, And all the knight's wounds began bleeding anew, But firm in his teat sits he, And spurs his horse savagely ; The horse falls doad ; pale is the knight as can be. Then out spake the priest—" To the Cross draw near: Thy shelter's here ! " " No Cross do I need—I suffice for myself, Thou art nought but illusion, a warlock elf! This rock be my shelter here, This rock give me rest and cheer ! " The rock as he climbed fell in fragments, sheer. So there lay the knight, and the priest to him ran ; " Thou hapless man, , Disabled thou art, but one salve is sure, Turn, turn thee to Jesus thy wounds to cure ! " " Disabled, yet still a man," Snarls the knight, and as best he can, Strikes the priestling, who melts in a trice from bis scan. Thereat, ere his soul from his body went, jeered The knight in his beard : " The priest's is tho fault that my sword I lost, But sweet is revenge, and his life it cost."

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