Page:Bohemian poems, ancient and modern (Lyra czecho-slovanska).djvu/54

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?
Mercy from God ’tis meet to seek,
But not in slavery

‘From Tatars wild. Nay! brethren, nay!
Do not to ruin haste!
Already now the fiercest heat
Of noontide is o’erpast;
God strengthen’d us at noon, and if
We trust, will aid at last.