Page:Czecho-Slovak Student Life, Volume 18.djvu/424
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10
STUDENT LIFE
With the plume of blue and a scarlet cape he’s wearing;
When he’s on the mountain, like a dawn at breaking.
When he’s in the forest, all the earth is quaking!
Danube and the Tatras hear the groans ascending:
Take your tax, you tyrants, reckoning is pending;
Keep the pelf, you wolves, your pelts shall pay our labors,
When, surrounding you, will flash a dozen sabers:
“Stand!” ten voices thunder! “Stand, you paltry traitor!
Hand to us your hoard, your soul to your Creator!”—
Blades and pistols ready dignify the bustle:—
“Give us back the plundered Slovak brawn and muscle!”
***
A breeze wafts from the gallows, women cross, invoking;
On four forbidding pillars ravens harsh are croaking:
“Hasten to us, Johnny dear!” horror chills the marrow—
“Hasten, hasten, gallant peer! Late would be to-morrow.”
Yet he goes along with heart unknown to falter,
For his soul repeats: ’tis freedom’s tragic altar.
When he’s on the mountain, like a dawn at breaking.
When he’s in the forest, all the earth is quaking!
Danube and the Tatras hear the groans ascending:
Take your tax, you tyrants, reckoning is pending;
Keep the pelf, you wolves, your pelts shall pay our labors,
When, surrounding you, will flash a dozen sabers:
“Stand!” ten voices thunder! “Stand, you paltry traitor!
Hand to us your hoard, your soul to your Creator!”—
Blades and pistols ready dignify the bustle:—
“Give us back the plundered Slovak brawn and muscle!”
***
A breeze wafts from the gallows, women cross, invoking;
On four forbidding pillars ravens harsh are croaking:
“Hasten to us, Johnny dear!” horror chills the marrow—
“Hasten, hasten, gallant peer! Late would be to-morrow.”
Yet he goes along with heart unknown to falter,
For his soul repeats: ’tis freedom’s tragic altar.
Now he’s up! Alas! his yearning soul exchanges
Last communication with his native ranges!
O beloved country, land of song and fable,
Where the charming Fairies clothe your heroes able,
Nymphs supply your songsters drink of mystic fountains!
Where is there your like, my lovely land and mountains!
Sad the somber Tatras groan with melancholy,—
Grieflessly he gazes, calmly, tragically;
For their memory gilt enchanting lamps will render,
Clothing them in ancient sunny garb of splendor.
Upon that marvelous world he beams with warm devotion,
As does the sun when setting on a lustrous ocean.
Last communication with his native ranges!
O beloved country, land of song and fable,
Where the charming Fairies clothe your heroes able,
Nymphs supply your songsters drink of mystic fountains!
Where is there your like, my lovely land and mountains!
Sad the somber Tatras groan with melancholy,—
Grieflessly he gazes, calmly, tragically;
For their memory gilt enchanting lamps will render,
Clothing them in ancient sunny garb of splendor.
Upon that marvelous world he beams with warm devotion,
As does the sun when setting on a lustrous ocean.
VRCHLICKÝ’S “OH, IF . . .”
Translated for the Student Life by J. B. Dudek.
Oh, if thou wert a rose, love,
A lady-bird I’d be,
And ’mid thy fragrant petals
I’d spend my days with thee.
A lady-bird I’d be,
And ’mid thy fragrant petals
I’d spend my days with thee.
And if thou wert the sea, love,
A little boat I’d be,
And on thy briny waves, dear,
I’d rock eternally.
A little boat I’d be,
And on thy briny waves, dear,
I’d rock eternally.
And if e’en death thou wert, love,
Thine own I’d wish to be,
I’d hasten to thy snowy arms
And die in ecstasy!
Thine own I’d wish to be,
I’d hasten to thy snowy arms
And die in ecstasy!
DREAMS
For the S. L. by Joseph J. Hlavacka.
The risen sun, in color bright
Shed on my face his gleaming light.
I heard him say: “The night is o’er;
Arise, my boy, and live no more
This morn in happy dreams.”
Shed on my face his gleaming light.
I heard him say: “The night is o’er;
Arise, my boy, and live no more
This morn in happy dreams.”
“But, king of light, I’ve often seen,
In my dreams, my lovely queen.”
“I know that well,” was his reply,
“So listen well to all that I
Say of your life of dreams.
In my dreams, my lovely queen.”
“I know that well,” was his reply,
“So listen well to all that I
Say of your life of dreams.
“What profit all your gain of fame,
Your castles, and your honored name,
Your slaying of the dreadful foe,
Whose death doth free your queen from woe
In lands of happy dreams?
Your castles, and your honored name,
Your slaying of the dreadful foe,
Whose death doth free your queen from woe
In lands of happy dreams?
“The world for deeds in dreams cares naught,
No lady’s love with them is bought;
In life alone reward is won
By things that you have really done.
So dream not all your time away,
But rise, seek honest work this day
To win your queen of dreams.”
No lady’s love with them is bought;
In life alone reward is won
By things that you have really done.
So dream not all your time away,
But rise, seek honest work this day
To win your queen of dreams.”