And grim stood the warders armed all,
In the torches' flicker and flare,
As they watch for an hour in the gloomy hall
The brave knight pinioned there.
The short--the flying hour is past,
The warders have bared his breast;
The bugler bugles a doleful blast;
Will the pale knight stand the test?
He has made his choice--he will do his part,
He has sworn and he cannot lie,
And he cries with the sword at his beating heart,--
"_Betray?--nay--better to die!_"
Suddenly fell from his blue eyes
The silken, blinding bands,
And while he looked in sheer surprise
They freed his feet and hands.
"I give thee my castle," Maria cried,
"And I give thee my heart and hand,
And Maria will be the proudest bride
In all this Magyar land.
"Grant heaven that thou be true to me
As thou art to the king,
And I'll bless the day I gave to thee
My castle for a ring."
The red blood flushed to the brave knight's face
As he looked on the lady fair;
He sprang to her arms in a fond embrace,
And he married her then and there.
So the little blind elf with his feathered shaft
Did more than the sword could do,
For he conquered and took with his magical craft
Her heart and her castle, too.
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