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With stifled sighs, and with tears in her eyes,
Though she tried to assume a cheerful guise,
She turned to the suitor who stood apart,
Awaiting the gift of her hand and heart;
And she said with a gentle, dignified air:
“My heart belongs to Lord Cecil Clare;
But my fatal vow,
Though I rue it now,
I dare not break. So, at your command,
I fulfil it! On you I bestow my hand.”

“O noble lady!” her suitor cried,
“‘Twas only a merry test I tried.
Full well I knew
That your heart was true.
Behold your lover, my bonny bride!
I assumed this guise for a Christmas joke.”
And as he spoke,
He threw off his cloak,
He flung to the floor his peaked hood,
And a gallant knight before her stood!

He doffed his wig and his long white beard;
All signs of St. Nicholas disappeared;
And smiling there, in the firelight’s glare,
Was the gay and noble Lord Cecil Clare!

The lady marvelled–a glad surprise
Betokened itself in her lovely eyes;
And with her merriment quite restored,
She said, “You are welcome home, my lord;
And I’m thankful, now,
That I kept my vow.”

Lord Cecil raised her hand to his lips,
And gallantly kissed her finger tips;
While the squires and dames
Looked down from their frames,
And “Bless you, my children!” they seemed to say.
Then the band appeared, and began to play;
The guests arrived, and without delay
The fun commenced, and the old oak hall
Never had known such a Christmas ball!
The feast was spread,
And the dance was led
By the knight and the lady, and every one said,
With a shout that rent the midnight air,
“Long live Lord Cecil and Lady Clare!”