Page:Bohemian legends and other poems.djvu/83

“For two feet! ’Tis a strange, odd price—
Still I will buy—the wheel is nice.
So mother bring our Dorothy’s feet
From out our room—let your steps be fleet—
And I will take the spin-wheel.”

The feet were given to the lad,
He rode back to the forest sad.
“Hand me, my boy, the living water,
I soon will heal this ill-starred daughter,
Without a scar I’ll heal her.”

Wound upon wound he gently pressed;
It grew together like the rest,
And the dead feet warmed with living heat,
And grew to the body as was meet,
And no scar was to be seen.

“Take, my boy, from the cupboard there,
The distaff—golden, very fair,
In the king’s palace they will buy it;
But hear: Only for hands I sell it,
No other pay will answer.”

The lad jumped on his fiery steed,
The golden distaff he held with heed.
The queen looked out of the window high,
“If I had that distaff,” she did sigh,
“To match my golden spin-wheel.”

“Get up, my mother, from your seat,
And ask the price of that distaff neat.”
“Buy it, my lady! It is not dear—
My father is cheap—you need not fear,
For two hands he will give it.”

“For two hands! ’Tis a strange, odd price—
But I’ll buy the distaff—it is nice.
Go bring our Dorothy’s hands, I pray,
Though it seems to me ’tis hardly pay,
For a golden distaff fine.”