af of victory,
Make rich my hero's crown!

"But his victorious strength grew not
From Roma's mouldering ground:
With leaves of young Germanic _oak_
Let his young head be crowned.

"Hear, all ye people, far and near,
Hear, Byzant', to thy dole:
The Gothic King, young Totila,
Thrones on the Capitol."

A burst of applause rewarded his song, during which a Roman youth and a
Gothic maiden, kneeling before Totila and Valeria, offered each a crown
of roses, laurels, olive-leaves and oak-leaves.

"_Our_ songs are also not quite without sweetness, Valeria," said
Totila with a smile, "and not without strength and truth. I owe my life
to this youthful minstrel." And he laid his hand upon Adalgoth's head.
"He struck thy countryman Piso, his colleague in the art of song, most
roughly upon his clever scanning fingers--as a punishment for having
written many a verse to my Valeria and raised the deadly steel against
me with one and the same hand!"

"There is one thing that I would rather have heard, my Adalgoth," Teja
said to the boy in a low voice, "than your song of praise."

"What is that, my Earl of harp and sword?"

"The death-cry of the Prefect, whom thou hast only sent to hell in thy
verse."

But Adalgoth was called away down the steps by a crowd of Gothic
warriors, who would not part with him for a long time; for his song
pleased the Gothic heroes who had fought with Totila much better than
it will perhaps please you, my reader.

Duke Guntharis embraced and kissed Adalgoth and said, as he drew him
aside:

"My young hero! What a resemblance! Whenever I see thee my first
thought is: Alaric!"

"Why, that is my battle-cry!" said Adalgoth, and, engaged in
conversation, they disappeared amid the crowd.

At the same time the King looked back at the vestibule of the villa,
for the performance of the flute-players stationed there was suddenly
interrupted.

He quickly perceived the cause and started from his seat with a cry of
astonishment.

For between the two centre and flower-wreathed columns of the entrance
stood a form which seemed scarcely human. A maiden of wondrous beauty,
clad in a pure white garment, holding a staff in her hand, and with a
wreath of star-like flowers upon her head.

"Ah! what is that? Lives this charming figure?" the King asked.

And all the guests followed the direction of