Page:Bohemian poems, ancient and modern (Lyra czecho-slovanska).djvu/42

 But Benes wends himself on high.
 * And towards the right doth swing

His sword, the army thither hastes;
 * Then towards the other wing

He points, towards the left they rush;
 * Thence towards the rocky pass;

And from the rocks upon the foe
 * They hurl the stony mass.

Now to the plain the fight descends,
 * The Germans they must fly,

The Germans they must shriek aloud,
 * The Germans they must die!