Then, bethinking himself, he exclaims:
I have a little bottle, called elecampane,
If the man is alive, let him rise and fight again.
The application of the elecampane so far restores the Turkish knight that he partly rises, entreating:
O pardon me, St. George, O pardon me, I crave,
O pardon me this once, and I will be thy slave.
Very inconsistently with his late remorse, St. George replies—
I never will pardon a Turkish knight,
Therefore arise, and try thy might.
The combat is renewed, and the Turkish knight falls prostrate, on which the Foreign King comes forward, shouting:
St. George, St. George, what hast thou done,
For thou hast slain mine only son!
But, after marching round the fallen hero, he cries:
Is there a doctor to be found,
That can cure this man lies bleeding on the ground?