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IV.
The Festival.
It was the Patron's day, a solemn feast;
Komturs and brethren to the city ride;
White banners wave upon the castle towers:
Konrad invites the knights to festival.
A hundred white cloaks wave around the board,
On every mantle is the long black cross,—
These are the brethren, and behind them stand
The young esquires to serve them, in a ring.
Konrad sat at the top; upon his left
The place was Witold's,[1] with his leaders brave,—
One time their foe, to-day the Order's guest,
Leagued against Litwa as their firm ally.
The Master, rising, gives the festal word,
"Rejoice we in the Lord!" The goblets gleamed.
