Page:Bohemian legends and other poems.djvu/34



What is the meaning of this haste,
 * And stir, within the castle gate?

What means these servants, standing pale,
 * These men-at-arms that silent wait?

And wherefore are these faggots piled,
 * To burn a sinner, or a saint?

Think you we have forgotten Huss—
 * Dream you Bohemian hearts are faint?

Look, look, upon the winding road
 * Come men-at-arms in goodly tale;

And down the mountain side they come,
 * Come streaming in from every vale.

What is the meaning of all this,
 * And wherefore are we called this day?

Lord Dalibor, our mighty lord,
 * It seems, has something new to say.

For whom these faggots? Say perchance,
 * To burn our Huss’ judges on?

Ah, that would be a royal day—
 * Pile on, you fellows, quick, pile on.”

Hush! hush!” the heralds trumpet loud,
 * Our lord stands on the castle wall;

A nobler lord was never born,
 * Shout loud, you fellows by the wall.”

And when at length a silence fell,
 * The noble lord stood forth and spake:

Bring now the family records old,
 * And all the things that pride awake;