Yet had life nothing good but she,
Love’s laughing eyes would grief dispel;
So it were well, content I’d be,
If but love came, ah, yes! ’twere well!
The song pleased the love-sick prince and there was a round of cheers ere Feargus had done.
“Thou art indeed a good minstrel,” said the prince, “but now to the toast.”
“Yea, he singeth well, but he hath had over much wine and his head is not so strong as it once was,” said one.
“Nay, good sir knight, thou art mistaken, wine hath not passed these lips to-day, for I drink wine but sparingly; but I hold that no man may drink this pledge an he hath a lady whom he holdeth fairest.”
“Thou art mad; sit thee down,” roared the prince, “or a halter shall sit where thy lady’s arm should be.”
“Thou wilt at least put me to the proof, and ye gentlemen all. I swear that when I ask, the bonniest lady shall arise and walk to me across the hall, or, an she doth not, thou mayest hang me forthwith.”