Page:Bohemian poems, ancient and modern (Lyra czecho-slovanska).djvu/145



EEP no more, Mother, weep no more for me, Though I am parted from thy dear caress! Weep no more, Mother, weep no more for me, Though thy full heart o’erflow with tenderness!

Weep not for me! the green grass o’er me groweth, But I upon a peaceful couch am laid; Weep not for me! the rude wind o’er me bloweth, But tempests cannot harm the sleeping maid.

Weep not for me! though e’en thy dearest voice Can send no tidings to my deafen’d ear— O thou less happy, why, when I rejoice, For the more happy flows the sorrowing tear?

Inquire of Memory, bid her back recall The bygone hours, when I was with you still; Tells she not tales of woe and suffering all, And pain, that taught and purified the will?

’Tis even so, then put away thy sorrow, And weep not evermore beside the tomb, But let the sable garb of mourning borrow Bright hues from that bright future yet to come!