Heard ye? She made a prophecy of Konrad,—
Konrad, the name of valiant Wallenrod!
Let brother unto brother give the hand,
And knightly word, and in to-morrow's council
Our Master he!"[1]—"Agreed," they cried, "agreed!"
And shouting went they. Far along the vale
Resounds the voice of triumph and of joy;
"Long Konrad live! long the Grand-Master live!
Long live the Order! perish heathenesse!"
Halban remained behind, in deep thought plunged;
He on the shouters cast an eye of scorn.
He looked towards the tower, and in low tones,
This song he sang, departing from the place:—
Song.
Wilija, thou parent of streams in our land,
Heaven-blue is thy visage and golden thy sand;
But, lovely Litwinka,[2] who drinkest its wave.
Far purer thy heart, and thy beauty more brave.
Wilija, thou flowest through Kowno's fair vale.
Amid the gay tulips and narcissus pale.
