A shower of glittering sparkles fell from off the dashing oar,
As a little boat shot rapidly from an old oak on shore:
His eye and pulse grew quick, the knight's, his heart kept no true time
In its unsteady beating, with the light oars' measured chime.
"Thou hast loiter'd—so, in sooth, should I—thine errand be thy plea;
And now what of my lady bright, what guerdon sent she me?
Or sat she lonely in her bower, or lovely in the hall?
How look'd she when she took my gift? sir page, now tell me all."—
"I found her with a pallid cheek, and with a drooping head,
I left her, and the summer rose wears not a gladder red;
And she murmur'd something like the tones a lute has in its chords,
So very sweet the whisper was, I have forgot the words."
"A health to thee, my lady love, a health in Spanish wine,
To-night I'll pledge no other health, I'll name no name but thine."
The young page hid his laugh, then dropp'd in reverence on his knee:—
"In sooth, good master, that I think to-night may scarcely be."
"While kneeling at your lady's feet another dame past by,
The lion in her haughty step, the eagle in her eye.
‘And doth the good knight barter gems? God's truth, we'll do the same.'
A pleasant meaning lit the smile, that to her proud eyes came.
"She took the fairest of the gems upon her glittering hand,
With her own fingers fasten'd it upon a silken band,
