 | The bridal of Vaumond |  |
IX.
He said, and down his gauntlet flung;The Baron's sword from its sheath hath sprung—
With its point he pierc'd the proffer'd glove,
And bore the deadly pledge above
In scornful mockery,—
“So be it as thyself hath spoken,
As with this firmly plighted token
So let it fare with thee!”
| The bridal of Vaumond | |