"What ho!" said the king, "bring my Sienna knight a cup of hot sack and
a merry-thought, for he seems melancholic and watchful--a wary eye, but
a silent tongue. Sir John, are your wits a wool-gathering with your
queen?"
"I am in my widowhood, most gracious prince,--my queen having departed."
"More fool thou, to fling thy heart after thy wits. Come, honest Jack,
we'll have some minstrelsy after the feast,--a merry troll and a short
one."
Sir John was well skilled in handling the lute and rebeck. He had been
early trained to their use; and many a kind glance and tender word he
had won thereby.
The feast was over, and those hushed halls thrilled to the following
ditty:--
I.
"They bade me sing, they bade me smile,
They bade my heart be gay;
They called my spirit forth, to while
The laughing hours away.
I've sung, I've smiled: where'er my path
Mirth's dazzling meteors shine:
All hearts have owned its magic power,
And all are glad but mine.
II.
"I've soothed the darkest surge of woe,
And many a bosom blessed;
Forbade the sufferer's tear to flow,
And brought the weary rest:
I've poured upon the bleeding heart
The balm of Hope,--the shrine
Where holier, happier thoughts shall dwell;--
But who shall gladden mine?
III.
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