Page:Bohemian legends and other poems.djvu/41

 Before her mother’s house they stopped,
 * And struck a solemn strain.

It almost seemed a soul in pain,
 * That sang from out their harps:

Oh, brave young men, I bid you go— Your song, it is too full of woe,
 * Like some poor soul in pain;

And still it strikes me that I know
 * That tearful song again.”

The youths, they would not leave her side;
 * They played with wilder skill;

They sang, “Oh, mother, take thy fill
 * Of malediction now.”

And never from her human ears Was hushed that song so full of fears
 * Until she dying lay.

And I have heard that devils came
 * And took her soul away.