"Right forever on the scaffold,
Wrong forever on the throne."

There was a quarrel, and a cruel sentence about to be executed; and
then the minstrel came. His fame had come before him, and so the
despot, in half-drunken playfulness, left the deciding of the
quarrel to him. He was brought to the head of the table, and the
princess was led in; and so these two met face to face.

Here Thyrsis paused, and asked, "Are you interested?"

"Go on, go on," said Corydon.

So he read about his princess, who was the embodiment of all the
virtues of the unknown goddess of his fancy. She was proud yet
humble, aloof yet compassionate, and above all ineffably beautiful.
And as for the minstrel--

"The minstrel was fair and young.
His heart was of love and fire."

He took his harp, and first he pacified the quarrel, and then he
sang to the lady. He sang of love, and the poet's vision of beauty;
but most of all he sang of the free life of the open. He sang of the
dreams and the spirit-companions of the minstrel, and of the
wondrous magic that he wields--

"Secrets of all future ages
Hover in mine ecstasy;