Page:Bohemian poems, ancient and modern (Lyra czecho-slovanska).djvu/55

 Out, out upon such words as those!
 * And blush for very shame,

Ye men, that fain would heroes be,
 * And bear the hero’s name!

Die we upon the hill with thirst,
 * ’Tis God our fate doth guide;

Surrend’ring to the foemen’s swords,
 * Our death is suicide.

Our God doth slavery abhor,
 * ’Tis sin to slavery

A voluntary neck to yield;
 * Who thinks thus, after me!

To where God’s Mother sits enthron’d!
 * Ye men that valiant be!’

And after him the many
 * To the holy chapel haste;

‘Now in thine anger, Lord, arise!
 * Aid us, O Lord, at last!

‘Raise, raise us o’er our enemies
 * In all the land around,

And hear the supplicating cries,
 * That in thine ears resound!

‘Encircled and surrounded all
 * By savage foes are we;

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