Uttering despairing tones of lamentation,
"Merciful Isten! I have left my dwelling:
What will befal me in this dreary desert?
"O miserable fortune! But my fortune
Is far less grievous than those youthful heroes',
Who fell beneath the sword-strokes of the foeman.
"For them, I'll haste to death—for them, I'll make me
A burial-bed upon the gloomy desert:
God! let the wolves and wild fowl be my mourners.
"Into God's hand I now my soul deliver."
Szilagyi hastened thither—and the maiden
Smiled joyous while he led her forth. They journey'd
Towards the Magyar land; they reach'd the borders;
And then Hajmási said to his companion,
"Let's strive who shall possess the lovely maiden."
But swift Szilagyi turn'd upon Hajmási:
"Nay, at thy peril; thou art wed already
To a fair bride: I'm pledged unto the maiden."
Then cried the imperial daughter to the heroes,
"Nay! not for me shall hero blood be wasted:
Fling me upon the sword—not your own bosoms."[1]
- ↑ "Hányjatok inkább engem szablyára, mint ezt míveljétek." This is an Hungarian idiom for "Kill me, not yourselves."
