Page:Poetry of the Magyars.djvu/124

18 When winter comes on, with its loud-rolling storms,

And the snow and the ice in their marvellous forms,

Am I wretched? O no! I hang over my fire,

And have more than I want—aye! and all I desire.

I have honour and fame, full enough for my lot;

And my gettings still add to the treasures I've got:

My horse is my glory—my sabre is true—

And O, my sweet maid! thou art faithfulness too.

O Fortune! thou wearest my fetters—art bound

In my bonds—and I look without terror around:

No evil will chance me—I feel that the chain

But binds thee more firmly to bless me again.

[This Song is from the Third Book of the Zrnyiad, verses 32 —39.]