Page:The Czechoslovak Review, vol3, 1919.djvu/357

And he went first—with bound and leap
And she behind strove pace to keep.
The village dogs began to bark
In scent of travellers half-dark;
Their moans and groans did sound so queer:
They smelled a dead one passing near!

“A lovely night, bright—at this hour
The dead in graves regain their power,
And ere you know they will be near—
My sweetheart, do you have no fear?”

“Why should I fear while you are here
And God’s with His eye always near?—
My darling sweetheart, will you tell
About your father—is he well?
Your father, mother, are they alive?
Will they be pleased when I arrive?”

“Dear maiden, you inquire a lot!
Come quickly, you’ll see on the spot.

Come quickly, for the time won’t wait;
Our journey’s long, so we’re not late.—
What’s in your hand, dear? Let me look.”

“I took with me my prayer-book.”

“Away with it! our prayer tones
Are heavier than heavy stones!
Away with it, so your step’s light
To keep pace with me in my flight.”

He took the book, cast it aside.
And they made ten leagues with one stride—

The way led uphill, hard and stiff,
Through woodlands and past rock and cliff.
From clumps of brushes and rocks dark
Wild beasts would howl, wild hounds would bark.
The owl, too, hooted tidings queer
Of danger that was coming near.—

He still ahead with bound and leap,
And she behind strove pace to keep.
Wild rose-shrubs and stones in their path
Gave her white feet their dewy bath,
And hawthorns sharp wher’er she trod
Bore red marks from her oozing blood.

“A lovely night, bright—at this hour
The dead the live join with new power,
And ere you know they will be near—
My sweetheart, do you have no fear?

“Why should I fear while you are here
And God keeps His hand always near?—
My darling sweetheart, will you tell,
Your cottage, is it furnished well?
Your little room, neat light and gay?
The church is sure not far away?”

“Oh dear me! You inquire a lot.
Just wait, we’ll shortly reach the spot.
Make haste; the time is getting short,
And still far off’s our journey’s port.—
At your waist, what’s that finery?”

“I took with me my rosary.”

“Hah, rosary! That beaded fake
Will wind around you like a snake!
Will smother you and choke your breast;
Away with it, so we go fast!”

He seized the beads, cast them aside—
They made leagues twenty with one stride.—

The way led them through vast low lands,
Across deep waters, meadows, sands,
Past marshes, caves, where in the air
Danced flitting lights, blue, bright and fair
In two rows, nine in each arrayed,
As though a corpse to rest were laid;
And in the brook the frogs did spell
A song like to a funeral.

He always first—with bound and leap;
She vainly strove her pace to keep.
Sharp weeds made the poor maiden feel
As though keen razors cut her heel,
And wild green ferns where’er she trod
Retained fresh red stains of her blood.

“A lovely night, bright—at this hour
The living speed to graves with power,
And ere you know your grave is near—
My sweetheart, do you have no fear?

“I do not fear, for you are here
And God’s will’s guarding always near!
But stop a moment in your haste;
Grant little rest to my poor chest.
My soul is weak; my legs cant’ stand;
Knives pierce my heart on eve’ry bend!”

“Just come and hurry on, my dear!
For we are coming very near.
Guests wait for us with mirth and rhyme,
And like a dart fast flies the time.—
What is it, dear, upon your neck,
Suspended on that ribbon black?”

“A cross my mother left me back”

“Hahhah! be damned that yellow gold
With edges cutting sharp and bold!
It’s cutting you—and me it hurts;
Away with it; we’ll be like birds!”

He snatched the cross, cast it aside—
They made leagues thirty with one stride.—

Here, on plain ground in obscure light
A building stands, large, lofty, white.
Its windows are high, narrow, tall,
A pointed belfry crowns it all.

“Well, here we are! Like on a wing!
My dear, do you see anything?”

“You mean that church? For heaven’s sake!”

“That is my castle where I wake!”

“That graveyard—and those crosses steep?”