Page:Bohemian legends and other poems.djvu/98

 Yes, God gave me twins!” Lorecký now cried, They will be whips for your lazy hide.

They will help me drive you rascals, low born— To help me in this task, see, they were born.

Two God gave to me, one was not enough— To dare to speak of mercy, and such stuff.

Wait till they grow up—Clear the way I say, And take care that we meet no more to-day.”

Dulík dropped the reins and all turned aside; Dazed he looked around, wrath he could not hide.

Then he quickly spoke in the common speech, Never as whips will your son’s manhood reach.

No more we will murmur—this we will do, Cut your whips before they grow strong and true.

For our children’s backs scorpions we’ll not rear— Nor see them made to cripples—have no fear!”

Šamonice’s bells are gladly ringing— The lords mourn, but the farmers are laughing.

The castle is in flames—blood is flowing, On a cask Peter Dulík is judging.

With pitchforks round about him stood the men, It was the farmer’s sigh of justice then.

Beneath him in a pool of blood there lay Šamonice’s lord, with his sons that day.