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JAROSLAW.
19
‘Out, out upon such words as those!
And blush for very shame,
Ye men, that fain would heroes be,
And bear the hero’s name!
‘Die we upon the hill with thirst,
’Tis God our fate doth guide;
Surrend’ring to the foemen’s swords,
Our death is suicide.
‘Our God doth slavery abhor,
’Tis sin to slavery
A voluntary neck to yield;
Who thinks thus, after me!
To where God’s Mother sits enthron’d!
Ye men that valiant be!’
And after him the many
To the holy chapel haste;
‘Now in thine anger, Lord, arise!
Aid us, O Lord, at last!
‘Raise, raise us o’er our enemies
In all the land around,
And hear the supplicating cries,
That in thine ears resound!
‘Encircled and surrounded all
By savage foes are we;
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