I take my lyre—what should I sing Of love who makes my soul her harp, Whose frowns awake each stented string To tones how sad, how sweet, how sharp! At other times love is my guide And to the sunlight leads my feet, By silver streams and leafy ways And langourous meadows cool and sweet. Yet life it hath a toilsome road, With many a heart-break, many a thorn; And all men stagger ’neath their load From twilight unto morn. Yet had life nothing good but she, Love’s laughing eyes would grief dispel; So it were well, content I’d be, If but love came, ah, yes! ’twere well! The song pleased the love-sick prince and there was a round of cheers ere Feargus had done. “Thou art indeed a good minstrel,” said the prince, “but now to the toast.” “Yea, he singeth well, but he hath had over much wine and his head is not so strong as it once was,” said one. “Nay, good sir knight, thou art mistaken, wine hath not passed these lips to-day, for I drink wine but sparingly; but I hold that no man may drink this pledge an he hath a lady whom he holdeth fairest.” “Thou art mad; sit thee down,” roared the prince, “or a halter shall sit where thy lady’s arm should be.” “Thou wilt at least put me to the proof, and ye gentlemen all. I swear that when I ask, the bonniest lady shall arise and walk to me across the hall, or, an she doth not, thou mayest hang me forthwith.” Then followed roars of rude laughter, and shouts of, “Where is she?” “Bring her forth,” and others shouted, “’Twill be a good jest; let the minstrel have his way.” “Go on then, minstrel,” said the prince, “since it is the wish of the company.” “That will I, but thou must first give me thy pledge that if I fail not, then wilt thou allow my lady and myself to leave thy halls unmolested and without scath, and will leave us to wend our way as we may list, on two good beasts of thy stable.” “Thou art beside thyself. How could it profit us to keep the lady of such as thou?” Then the nobles, who began to feel a kind of curiosity stirring them, said, “This is so persistent a madman that we must needs let him have his way.” “I swear to thee, minstrel,” said the prince, “to do as thou sayest, an thou succeed, and, moreover, I swear to hang thee an thou failest.” Feargus turned to the knights and called them to witness, and then rose and taking his long staff bound round with thongs, and his harp, he walked down the hall to the door and standing with his back against it struck a few notes on his harp and sang this verse in strong, clear tones:— “When I call she will arise ’Spite the fears that fill her eyes; When I suffer she will weep For her love is boundless deep. Yet than I she’s nobler far, Beautiful as still streams are, Pure as is the purest thought, Or as dew the night hath brought.