Page:Cheskian Anthology.pdf/199

 the rattling troop—I feel the earth

Is shaking 'neath the chargers—so begone.

I hear the drums loud rolling—and the mirth

Of battle-loving heroes—Kwétslaw—on!

On to the banner! yet one kiss—thou hold

Heart-chosen man—fame calls thee—no delay;

Take the sharp steel—'tis glittering in its hold;

Thy Kraska's hand shall bind it—now away!

battle like a Českian—and success,

Success walk still unwearied at thy side,

Courageous but discreet—Yet forward press

As cataracts adown the mountain side.

The kiss I give thee now, O let it burn

Like sacred fire upon thy lips—until

To thine enraptur'd maid thou shalt return—

And godlike thoughts her widening bosom fill.