Page:Bohemian poems, ancient and modern (Lyra czecho-slovanska).djvu/66

Overpow’ring, mighty sorrow
for the son he dead believ’d,
Makes the old man wrong the living,
by his woeful grief deceiv’d.
To the lady, to Ludmilla,
he with almost scornful tone
Saith, ‘His ancestors’ proud spirit
sways th’ untimely wither’d one;
‘But the weakling’s feeble body
to the words of courage high
‘Never, never can give import,
speak he e’er so valiantly.’
See the boy’s pale visage kindling,
with the blush of anger dyed!
See, how from his blue eye flashing
beams the hero glance of pride!
And he speaks, ‘My lord and father,
lieth not man’s strength alway
‘Only in the God of heaven,
faith in whom is all our stay?
‘Cannot heaven high and lordly,
cannot heaven shew in sight
‘In the weakest of the creatures
all its pow’r and all its might?’
From the battlements thus speaking
quickly sped the boy, I ween;
In the castle of his father
was he never after seen.
Fruitless search! successless seeking!
traceless went the boy away;