Page:The Queens Court Manuscript with Other Ancient Bohemian Poems, 1852, Cambridge edition.djvu/51

 And ope their parchèd mouths in pain,
 * And on God’s Mother call.

To her their weaken’d eyes they turn,
 * And wring in agony

Their hands, from earth to heaven’s height
 * Looking imploringly.

“We cannot longer faint with thirst,
 * “For thirst we cannot fight;

“Who loves his health, who loves his life,
 * “Must mercy seek in flight

“Among the Tatars.” Thus around
 * ’Twas spoken left and right.

“The sword is not so sharp a death
 * “As thirst; in slavery

“Of water we shall have enough;
 * “Who thinks thus, after me!”

(Says Weston) “after me, the man
 * “Who thirsteth painfully!”

But leaping up doth Wratislaw
 * Like a young bull arise,

And by the arm he seizes him,
 * And thus to Weston cries:

“Thou traitor! everlasting shame
 * “Of men that Christians be!

“And wilt thou to destruction bring
 * “A people good and free?