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196 principled a time-server as Lomnický. Yet no one who reads this poem in its entirety can doubt that here, at least, Lomnický is thoroughly sincere. The poem loses greatly by quotation; yet I shall translate a few lines from a song that undoubtedly shows us Lomnický at his best. It begins thus:—

"There was once in this Bohemian land a noble lord well known to all the people, Whose glory was great, whose name, Peter Vok of Rosenberg, was everywhere celebrated. . . . He was as a shining light to this country, for which the race of Rosenberg will no longer shine. The father of the fatherland is dead! No more, Bohemians, will you be able to lay on him the burden of power. Already is he buried in the monastery of Vyssi Brod, which his ancestors erected and founded. At that monastery many noble lords assembled; much grief had they at this funeral. On Candlemas Day was he sorrowfully buried; Let every one record the day When death deprived us of this glorious lord; a great loss have we felt, a great grief has God inflicted on us. When seventy-two years of age he finished his earthly course, left this world. Born at Krumlov, he died at Trebon; suddenly struck by illness, he saw the day of death. In worthy old age he left this world; departed from earthly misery to eternal fame."

Somewhat later, Lomnický, addressing the other mourners, writes:—

"I, the founder of song, lament for him together with you, for my love drives me (to do so), Saying: 'My benefactor, too deeply for me do you sleep; but thou, the friend of the poor, knowest thy (heavenly) reward.' That I may yet serve his memory, I have written this short simple song.