was he that he ran his horns against it and
nearly broke them. His attendant donkey did the same, and not having
the same protection to his scull, he received a blow so severe that he
was sent reeling backwards till he sunk exhausted on the ground. Saint
Denis was a second time going to butt, when he heard a hollow voice
breathe forth from the trunk the following words:--

"Cease to lament, thou famous man of France,
With gentle ears, oh, listen to my moan!
Once on a time it was my fatal chance
To be the proudest maid that ere was known.
By birth I am the daughter of a king,
Though now a breathless tree and senseless thing.

"My pride was such that Heaven confounded me--
A goddess in my own conceit I was:
What nature lent too base I thought to be,
But deem'd myself all others to surpass.
And therefore nectar and ambrosia sweet,
The food of demigods, for me I counted meet.

"My pride despised the finest bread of wheat,
And richer food I daily sought to find;
Refined gold was boil'd up with my meat,
Such self-conceit my senses all did blind.
For which the cruel fates transformed me,
From human substance to this senseless tree.

"Seven years in shape of stag thou must remain,
And then a purple rose, by magic's firm decree,
Shall bring thee to thy former shape again,
And end at last thy woeful misery:
When this is done, be sure you cut in twain
This fatal tree, wherein I do remain."

The Knight almost fainted when he heard these strange words, and
understood the length of time he was to remain in his transformed
condition. His attendant donkey had also heard the words, and treasured
them up in his memory. Every day, while his master slept, he ranged the
country round, searching for the purple rose, but every evening returned
as wise as he set out. Thus the seven years passed mournfully away.

One day, unmindful how the time had sped, as he trotted on, every now
and then stopping and uttering a melancholy bray, his nostrils scented
the fragrance of some roses; and though his first impulse was to eat
them, on examining them more closely, he observed that they were of
lustrous beauty and of a purple hue. Plucking a number of them, he
trotted back to Saint Denis. He would have brayed with delight, but,
had he done so, he would have dropped the roses, so he restrained
himself till he had laid them before his master's nose. Instantly the
Knight began to devour t