Page:Bohemian legends and other poems.djvu/83

 For two feet! ’Tis a strange, odd price— Still I will buy—the wheel is nice.
 * So mother bring our Dorothy’s feet

From out our room—let your steps be fleet—
 * And I will take the spin-wheel.”

The feet were given to the lad, He rode back to the forest sad.
 * Hand me, my boy, the living water,
 * I soon will heal this ill-starred daughter,
 * Without a scar I’ll heal her.”

Wound upon wound he gently pressed; It grew together like the rest,
 * And the dead feet warmed with living heat,
 * And grew to the body as was meet,
 * And no scar was to be seen.

Take, my boy, from the cupboard there, The distaff—golden, very fair,
 * In the king’s palace they will buy it;
 * But hear: Only for hands I sell it,
 * No other pay will answer.”

The lad jumped on his fiery steed, The golden distaff he held with heed.
 * The queen looked out of the window high,
 * If I had that distaff,” she did sigh,
 * To match my golden spin-wheel.”

Get up, my mother, from your seat, And ask the price of that distaff neat.”
 * Buy it, my lady! It is not dear—
 * My father is cheap—you need not fear,
 * For two hands he will give it.”

For two hands! ’Tis a strange, odd price— But I’ll buy the distaff—it is nice.
 * Go bring our Dorothy’s hands, I pray,
 * Though it seems to me ’tis hardly pay,
 * For a golden distaff fine.”