The count drew his sword, and turning the cross of the handle most reverently toward the empress, said—
“Swear to me, madam, upon this blade, that what you have just now related to me is perfectly true.”
“I swear,” replied the empress, “that I have told you nothing but the truth.”
“Well, by this sword, and the help of God, you shall be delivered from this prison, in which you have been confined a year, and be cleared also from the deadly accusation that clouds your fame.”
“May God grant it!” said the pious empress.
“Now, madam, will you bestow upon me one of your jewels, in token that you accept me for your knight?”
“My lord count, take this gold chain, the only relic of my former state that I still possess. This pledge will serve as a proof that I have chosen you for my champion.”
“Madam, I take it with thanks,” replied the Count of Barcelona, returning, as he spoke, his sword to its scabbard, and replacing his helmet on his head. He bowed courteously to the fair prisoner, and rejoined the emperor, who was anxiously expecting his return.
“Sire,” said the count, “I have seen her majesty, the empress, and am satisfied with her explanations. Will you, therefore, be pleased to inform her accusers, that I am ready to do battle in her cause with one or both—either together, or by single combat.”
“My lord count,” replied the emperor, “you shall engage them separately; for it shall never be said that a knight who undertook the cause of an accused lady in so noble a manner did not find noble enemies.”
PROEM.—Giant Night in grim repose was sleeping beneath the soft influence of the moonbeams, which spread over him like the silvery drapery of a bridal couch; when the fairies came forth from their flowery abodes, and engaged in their merry dance, with laughter and song; till, growing boisterous in their mirth, they aroused old Nox from his slumber, who, frowning, drove the affrighted moon behind the western hills, when the children of Gladness hid themselves in haste. But when Aurora, Goddess of the Morning, showed her radiant face in the east, Darkness folded his wings and retired before her.
The moon on the bosom of night was reposing, As wrapped in her mantle of glory he lay, Whilst the wings of the angel of darkness were closing Beneath the soft touch of her bright silvery ray. Far, far from her smile grim darkness had fled, And queen of the night she gloried to rise, While the tears which the angels o’er mortals had shed, Congealed into stars, bespangled the skies.