Page:Bohemian poems, ancient and modern (Lyra czecho-slovanska).djvu/59

 Or by an arrow stricken turns
 * Upon the hunter bold.

So wrathful raging doth he rush
 * Upon the Tatar foe,

Behind him the Bohemians
 * Most like a hail-storm go.

On Kublay’s son he fiercely charg’d,
 * It was a furious fight,

With spears did they together meet,
 * And broke their spears with might.

But Jaroslaw all bath’d in blood,
 * His steed all bloody too,

Hath smitten, reaching with his sword,
 * The son of Kublay through.

Down from the shoulder to the hip,
 * The trenchant blade did go,

And from his steed he lifeless sank
 * Among the corpses low,

And o’er him rattled, as he fell,
 * His quiver and his bow.

This all the savage Tatar host
 * With panic fear did smite,

Away their lances fathom-long
 * They threw in wild affright,