Page:Bohemian legends and other poems.djvu/107

 A Christian! At St. Catherine’s shrine, Each year he prayed the King divine To bless his people; this good king Without God never did a thing.

He loved Bohemia from his heart— As king, as father took her part. He loved us all like children dear, Our good, good Charles, without a peer.

What’s that? You hear? The key hangs there— The tower’s shut—Let the light flare. You hear? How mournful is the tone— St. Catherine’s bell it rings alone!

Silence awhile, they listen all, The bell tolls from the tower tall, Then suddenly the bells ring all. And strange the message that they bore. He is no more he is no more.”

A wonder—why the key hangs there— Bring me a light, I’ll climb the stair.” Breathless he stands before the door, The bells are ringing as before.

The door is shut! he listening stands— The bells are rung by unknown hands; He trembles as he listening stands, For sad the message that they bore: He is no more he is no more.”

The ringer opens quick the door, He climbs up to the turret floor; But there he breathless stands in fear, The bells toll, but no man is near.

He hears their iron hearts beat quick— The melody it makes him sick; He gazes round in mute despair, For not a living soul is there.