iverer. Morgan heard them, and resolved that
Olger must go to fight for them. She lifted the crown from his brow, and
his memory came back. She bade him guard well his ring, and gave him a
torch: if that torch were lighted his life would burn out with the last
spark. He returned to France, fought the Paynim and conquered, freeing
France and Christendom. The widowed queen of France then intrigued to
marry him; but as she was on the point of attaining her purpose Morgan
appeared and caught him away. In Avalon he still dreams in her arms; and
some day when France is in her direst need, Olger will come back on his
famous charger to smite and to deliver her.

Here we come upon another type, the story and the superstition of the
expected deliverer, which is widely scattered through Europe. In this
country the most noted example is that of King Arthur, who may fitly
give his name to the type. King Arthur, according to the romances, is,
like Olger, in the Island of Avalon, where indeed the romance of Olger
declares that the two heroes met. Sir Thomas Malory tells us: "Some men
yet say in many parts of England that King Arthur is not dead, but had
by the will of our Lord Jesus Christ into another place; and men say
that hee will come againe, and he shall winne the holy crosse. I will
not say that it shall bee so, but rather I will say that heere in this
world hee changed his life. But many men say that there is written upon
his tombe this verse: Hic jacet Arthurus, rex quondam, rexque futurus."
This is a belief dear to the heart of many an oppressed people. It was
told of Harold that he was not slain at Senlac, and that he would yet
come back to lead his countrymen against the hated Normans. Even of
Roderick, the Last of the Goths, deeply stained as he was with crime,
men were loth to believe that he was dead. In the latter part of the
sixteenth century, after Don Sebastian had fallen in the ill-fated
expedition to Morocco, Philip the Second of Spain took advantage of the
failure of the male line on the death of the cardinal-king, Henry, to
add Portugal to his dominions, already too large. His tyranny roused a
popular party whose faith was that Don Sebastian was not really dead: he
was reigning in the Island of the Seven Cities, and he would return by
and by to drive out the Spaniards and their justly execrated king. Even
in the year 1761 a monk was condemned by the Inquisition as a
Sebastianist, a believer and a disseminator of