It was a grand day in the old chivalric time, the wine circling around the board in a noble hall, and the sculptured walls rang with sentiment and song. The lady of each knightly heart was pjedged
by name, and many a syllable significant of loveliness had been uttered, until it came to St.
Leon's turn, when, lifting the
sparkling cup on high- he said.
"I drink to one."
"Whose image never may depart.
Deep-graven on a grateful heart,
Till memory is dead;
"To one whose love for me shall last
When lighter passions shall have passed,
So holy 'tis, and true;
To one whose love hath longer dwelt,
More deeply fixed, more keenly felt.
Than any pledged by you!"
Each guest upstarted at the word.
And laid a hand upon his sword,
With fiery, flashing eye;
said: "We crave the name.
Proud knight of this most peerless dame,
Whose love you count so high.”
paused, as if he would
Not breathe her name in careless mood,
Thus lightly to another;
Then bent his noble head as though
To give that name the reverence due
And gently said- "My mother !"