To sounds of cheerful thoughts like these each royal night wore on, while the castled lords of hill and valley feasted at the king’s table, and made merry over jest and story, to the clinking of many glasses and in the pleasant uproar of many voices. Seated in his chair at the head of the table, he drank from a great flagon of crystal, or smoked from a pipe as long as his body, the bowl of which required a page‐in‐waiting to support it, lest, in a drowsy moment, it should drop from the mouth of the king. Below him were ranged the ten minnesingers, who smoked from one immense bowl of tobacco, having long stems that led to all their mouths, whence issued a volume of smoke, which, as it rose around the great burning bowl, was like the fume of a conflagration; and thus betimes the merry minnesingers sang: Ah! never once so jolly face In green old Arcady appeared; And as he drinks, the drink flows down His flowing, streaming beard. He’s six feet high, his beard is long, And broad his body is and strong. Then sing: King Ruli, King Ruli! He shall be our king. No king could resist such flattery as this, and it was with truth that his minstrels pictured him standing, and, in a tone of majestic joviality, wishing the health of the whole company: “True liegemen all, I give ye joy, For I am host and landlord here; Ho! varlets, bring me Rhenish wine, And flagons fill of beer!” Right red Rhine wine! right red Rhine wine! Was ever glass so clear and fine? So sing: Ruli, King Ruli! And he shall be our king! Late in the night the sound of song and story made for the gentle monarch a lullaby, and his head rested on his bosom in slumber, as he laid down his flagon. Had his chief minstrel then tickled his great ear, it would not have waked him up; and so, seeing that the king had filled himself with slumber as with the drugs of Morpheus, his lieges sang: But, hold! the monarch’s sleepy grown; His pipe has dropt, he’s drowsed and sped. Hark! how he snores! Wide open doors; We’ll bury him in bed. Then, while our loyal shoulders bear His burden, thus our burden hear: King Ruli! The king is dead; long live the king! And live again, King Ruli!