Page:Bohemian legends and other poems.djvu/93

 ‘Oh listen,’ said a far-off voice,
 * Singer, of lovely song;

Take out your sword and be your choice,
 * To save me from this throng.’

‘Oh, thanks be to that simple song!
 * Oh, thanks be to the sky!

My life I’ll give to right thy wrong,
 * Or very gladly die.’

He went and donned a pilger robe,
 * Then came with footsteps slow;

One could not see beneath that robe
 * The sabre hanging low.

He found them singing a sweet hymn,
 * While on their knees they prayed.

He stood awhile and heard their hymn—
 * Hand on his sword he laid.

On to the church they singing went,
 * Chanting ‘Zion! Zion!’

With one bound in their midst he went,
 * Like a roaring lion.

Between the shrieks and screams of fear,
 * He caught the girl he loved.

Then turned him to the drawbridge near,
 * Carrying the maid he loved.

The keeper of the drawbridge saw,
 * And would have stopped their flight.

He drew the bridge up, ’twas his law,
 * To have the chain draw right.

The youth drew out his mighty sword,
 * He cut the chain in two.

The links were severed by his sword,
 * And on the bridge they flew.