Page:Bohemian legends and other poems.djvu/73

 The night is fine such nights the dead Seek out the living, I’ve heard said.

And ere one thinks, one’s grave is near— Say, my beloved, dost thou fear?”

I fear not; thou art by my side— And God’s will—why it must betide.

But wait a moment, let me stay, And rest a while upon the way.”

Her soul was faint, her knees were weak, And swords seemed in her heart to meet.

Come quick, come quick, oh maiden mine, Our home is near, make no repine.

The banquet’s spread the guests they wait— Time flies, we surely will be late.

What hast thou on that ribbon fine Upon thy throat, oh loved one mine?” My mother’s cross—the cross divine."

Ha, ha, that golden cross it pricks— I see the blood it slowly tricks.

It wounds you cast it from you now, Then you’ll speed on, you know not how.”

The cross he took, and cast away— Thirty miles they gained on their way.

Upon a wide and open plain She saw a building once again.

The windows they were narrow, high, A bell hung in the turret nigh.

“Look, my beloved one, we are near, How does it please thee, let me hear?”