he saw a beautiful white dove fly upward
from a hole in the ground beneath the massive wall of a huge castle.
Catching the dove, he wrote on a slip of parchment, which he placed
under its wing, "Saint George of England has come to Sabra's rescue.
Tell me if you are here!"

Soon the dove, having entered the hole, returned to the Knight, when he
discovered, under its wing, on the same parchment: "I, the hapless
Sabra, am here; oh, free me, and receive a maiden's grateful love!"
Instantly returning to his knights, and throwing off his palmer
garments, Saint George led them to the assault.

On every side the castle-walls were stormed. Some climbed up ladders,
some over each other's backs, with such desperate valour, that the
Moorish soldiers gave way on every side; till Almidor, hearing the
turmoil and loud shouts of war, rushed to the battlements. Then ensued
a fight most desperate between the noble Champion of England and the
black King, in which the latter would most assuredly have been slain had
he not, like a recreant, turned his back and fled, among his followers,
through a postern gate, which, happily for him, stood open,--proudly
asserting that he would return and fight another day.

Having thus victoriously taken possession of the Moorish castle, Saint
George and all his knights and squires burst open all the doors and
gates, and explored all the passages they could find, till they arrived
at a gloomy vault. Within it was a little door. Saint George thundered
at it with his battle-axe. It burst open; and there he beheld his
lovely and beloved Sabra, her beauty dimmed, but not extinguished, by
her long imprisonment.

Saint George and his knights having taken possession of the Moorish
capital, he held a grand banquet in honour of the occasion, when a
herald announced, in due form, that the British Champion was about to
wed the lovely African Princess. Thrice was the announcement made; and
no one objecting, the fair Sabra, after all her misfortune, became, as
her reward, the bride of the noblest Knight Europe, or the world, has
ever known.

So enchanted were the Moors with the valour and courtesy of Saint
George, that their chiefs, lords, and nobles, and the councillors of
state, came in humble guise and proffered him the crown of their
country; but he declared, with many expressions suitable to the
occasion, that he had not yet won that renown for which his soul panted,
and must decline the honour.

Ha