BŘETISLAV.
Before the gate a harper stands,
And begs that he may enter in.
“’Tis well to praise one’s native land,
And hear its songs. Yes, let him in,
Open the gate and let him sing,
That every idle care take wing.”
Thus ordered the prince Oldřich.
The singer entered, young of mein,
And lowly bowed before the prince.
Then stooping low, he kissed the seam
Of Božena’s dress, wife of the prince.
Before the golden throne he stood,
And struck the harp with tones that would
But make his song the sweeter.
“A rich young man once loved a girl,
A maid without compare;
But cloister walls they hid his pearl,
His heart was in despair.
“How many weary days he spent
In wandering round the walls;
Then in a happy hour he went,
And sang before those halls.
“‘Oh, rosy lips, what say ye now,
Within that cloister cold?
Look from thy window, see me now,
A minstrel singing bold.’
