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Behold the cup of festal
rite fill it up with wine,
Present it to the chosen knight at friendships hallowed shrine.
The soul of song now mounting on wings of gleaming light,
Will hover o’er the festive cup to hail the chosen knight
Then fill to the brim - unto him - who three great lights did see,
Who knows the wisdom that is tonight by ancient number three.
Let wealth her golden coppers fill,
or fountains impart,
Yet all the kinder feelings shall when avarice grasps the heart,
I care not for the wealthy fool, let splendour lead the van,
Give me it is a golden rule, a generous humble man,
Then fill to him – unto him – who proudly did arrive,
To know the wisdom that is taught by mystic number five.
Let learning pilot through the dark
and shed her light about,
Yet oft one guides the fragile bark – over seas of impious doubt.
I prize the man whose highest lore in holy writ I trace,
Who walks where virtue points before, through all paths of peace.
Then fill to the brim – unto him – who ignorance has riven,
Who knows the wisdom that is taught by mystic number seven.
Let high philosophy go preach and trace
effect to course,
And all their metaphysics teach and lay down social laws.
But all the maxims that they know – in one heart here unite –
The heart that can forgive a foe and love a Brother Knight.
Then fill to him – unto the brim – for unto him is given
To know the wisdom that is taught by glorious eleven.
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