He who can empty it off at a breath,—
The Hufflesheim village is his till death.”
Then laughing, he filled the boot to the rim,
Till the bright red wine flowed over the brim;
And said, as he mark’d their sparkling eyes,—
“Good luck to you, Knights—you know the prize!”
Then Johann von Sponheim sat silent by,
But pushed his neighbour to rise and try;
And Meinhart, his neighbour, could nothing do
But scowl at the boot, and sit silent too.