These lines were placed there by the power of the good fairy of Asia, and were unseen by the Giant, or he would not, it is presumed, have allowed them to remain. They so encouraged the valiant Knight, that, resolving to liberate the ladies, he struck so mighty a blow on the gate of the castle, with the pommel of his sword, that it sounded like a clap of the loudest thunder. On hearing it, Blanderon, who had been asleep, started up, and came forth to the gate with a huge oak-tree in his hand, which he flourished about his head as if it had been a light battle-axe, in a loud voice comparing the Knight's spear to a bulrush, and threatening to hurl him and his Squire down the side of the mountain. "Words without deeds are mere empty things," retorted the Knight. "Try what you can do." And giving his steed to his Squire to hold, he drew his trusty falchion, and stood ready to receive the onslaught of his huge antagonist. Blanderon, however, flourished his oak so furiously that Saint Anthony had to jump here and there with the greatest activity to avoid his strokes. Now the very earth seemed to shake; now the castle-walls resounded with the blows. The Knight relaxed not a moment in his efforts, for he saw that the Giant was stout; and as the sun's heat was very great, he panted more and more till the moisture from his brows ran down into his eyes, and almost blinded him. Observing this, the Knight plied him with his battle-axe more vigorously than before, till he was compelled to seek for safety within his castle-walls; but ere he reached them he let fall from his grasp his huge oak-tree; on which Saint Anthony, redoubling his efforts, smote him so fiercely, that he sunk down on his knees, unable to fly further. Still undaunted, the Giant drew a dagger twice the size of any ordinary two-handed sword. With this he struck right and left so rapidly that the Knight had hard work indeed to escape its blows, and still greater to discover a spot in his huge body in which he might plant a deadly one in return. At length, however, the Giant grew weary, and Saint Anthony, springing forward, with one stroke clove his hideous head almost in twain. Then, with another blow he cut it off, and handed it to Niccolo, to be carried before him as a trophy of his prowess. So violent, however, had been the efforts of the Knight that he also sank fainting on the ground, when his faithful Squire, believing him to be dead, knelt by his side, and, weeping, mourned bitterly his loss. Now, it happened that the lovely Rosalinde, one of the daughters of the King of Georgia, who had been taken captive by the Giant, looked over the battlements, and seeing his headless trunk guessed that he had been slain by some gallant knight, and that the end of her servitude had arrived.