of his pilgrimage were accomplished. His chamberlain, an elderly
and a cautious man, declines the trust, observing, that seven
days, instead of seven years, would be the utmost space to which
he would consent to pledge himself for the fidelity of any woman.
The esquire of the Noble Moringer confidently accepts the trust
refused by the chamberlain, and the baron departs on his
pilgrimage. The seven years are now elapsed, all save a single day
and night, when, behold, a vision descends on the noble pilgrim as
he sleeps in the land of the stranger.

"It was the noble Moringer, within an orchard slept,
When on the Baron's slumbering sense a boding vision crept,
And whispered in his ear a voice,'
'Tis time. Sir Knight, to wake--
Thy lady and thy heritage another master take.

"'Thy tower another banner knows, thy steeds another rein,
And stoop them to another's will, thy gallant vassal train;
And she, the lady of thy love, so faithful once and fair,
This night, within thy father's hall, she weds Marstetten's heir.'"

The Moringer starts up and prays to his patron St. Thomas, to
rescue him from the impending shame, which his devotion to his
patron had placed him in danger of incurring. St. Thomas, who must
have felt the justice of the imputation, performs a miracle. The
Moringer's senses were drenched in oblivion, and when he waked he
lay in a well-known spot of his own domain; on his right the
Castle of his fathers, and on his left the mill, which, as usual,
was built not far distant from the Castle.