"You have well profited by your opportunities, Sir Christopher," said Arundel, at its conclusion. "By mine honor, such sweet and artful notes never waked the echoes of a mighty forest. I seemed to mingle in the graceful fandango, and to taste the exhilarating Xeres in your song."
"Ah!" replied the Knight, with a half sigh. "It is only a reminiscence of youthful follies. But now it is thy turn again. I warrant me there is store of ravishing melodies in the treasury whence thou didst take thine."
"I dare not," said the young man modestly, "sing after thee. My poor notes would sound like those of the croaking raven, in comparison with the warblings of the yellow minstrel of the Canaries."
"Out with thee, hyperbolical flatterer! Believe me—I set a higher value on thy nature than on my art. Come, pipe up once more, and I will, meanwhile, try to recall another ditty."
"If such is to be my reward, I will not refuse, although I do thereby only expose my own incapacity. Here is a serenade:
"I stand beneath thy window, love,
To tell my pleasing pain:
O, flowers below, and stars above,
Bear to her heart my strain!
Say that the charms of earth and sky