Page:The Queens Court Manuscript with Other Ancient Bohemian Poems, 1852, Cambridge edition.djvu/101



Rose, thou lovely Rose! Why thus early bloom 'st thou bright? Why doth frost thy young bloom smite? Why frost-stricken fad’st in sight? Why, when faded, fallst thou light?

Long time I sate at even late Till cock-crowing alone, Nor longer could I aught await; The pine-torch all was gone.

I slept, I dream’d, it to me seem’d, Ah me! unhappy maid! The gold ring from my finger fell, That my right hand displayed.

Out slipp’d the costly stone of price, That in the ring should be; The precious stone I never found, No lover came to me!