Ye five shall give us honest rhyme,
And we shall give you sound.
Let laurels crown his great gray head,
A big arm-chair his throne be made.
Then sing:
Ruli, King Ruli! And he shall be our king.
To sounds of cheerful thoughts like these each royal night wore on, while the castled lords of hill and valley feasted at the king's table, and made merry over jest and story, to the clinking of many glasses and in the pleasant uproar of many voices. Seated in his chair at the head of the table, he drank from a great flagon of crystal, or smoked from a pipe as long as his body, the bowl of which required a page-in-waiting to support it, lest, in a drowsy moment, it should drop from the mouth of the king. Below him were ranged the ten minnesingers, who smoked from one immense bowl of tobacco, having long stems that led to all their mouths, whence issued a volume of smoke, which, as it rose around the great burning bowl, was like the fume of a conflagration; and thus betimes the merry minnesingers sang:
Ah! never once so jolly face
In green old Arcady appeared;
And as he drinks, the drink flows down