When he sat down to study he found himself in a more cheerful mood than he had been in
for many a day, though he could not help wondering what had become of Leo. As he went on thinking where the boy could be he was inspired to write what he called a sonnet upon the subject. Here it is:
"My boy has fled his father's home,
No more he treads these halls;
In vain my voice invokes his name,
In vain my tears, my calls.
The night winds sigh, the owlets cry,
The moon's pale light appears,
The stars are shivering in the sky—
I tremble at my fears.
Has then the Knight of Shadowy Dread
My Leo forced away
From his fond parent's loving heart
In Death's grim halls astray?
I bow reluctant to my fate;
'Tis mine to weep and mine to wait!"
He counted the lines over carefully; the eighth and tenth seemed short, but it scanned after a fashion. On the whole it suited him, and was rather better done than many of his verses, so with soothed nerves he sought his pillow.
The old woman had slumbered all the evening in her chair. Indeed her snoring had been
even and regular enough to act as a measure in marking the time for the musical cadences of the sonnet.
Morpheus, having a pretty good appetite, ate some bread and cheese and drank some ale before retiring.
CHAPTER V
Leo was awakened by being rudely jostled about and tumbled upon the floor. When he opened his eyes the cause was apparent. The elves had found their beds in disorder, and not being able to see him, had, in their efforts to restore order, pitched him out. Hardly had Leo reached the floor when in came Paz to the rescue.