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BENEŠ HERMANOW.
OVERTHROW OF THE SAXONS.
O TELL me, Sun, thou gentle Sun,
Why thou dost mourning go?
And wherefore thou dost shine on us,
A people full of woe?
Where, where’s our prince, our army? He
To Otto’s court is gone;—
Who from the foe our land shall free
Thus orphan and alone?
In columns long the Germans march,
The Germans Saxons are,
Into our country from the hills,
That wave with woods afar.
‘Give, give, ye wretches, silver, gold,
And all that ye possess,
Or else ye shall in flames behold
Mansions and cottages’!’
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