122
Star of melancholy mourn,
Light for me thy midnight urn;
If some wield-sorrow swept
By thee—often hast thou wept,
Mournful starlet ! weep with me!Když gsem šel od mily.
I left my maiden to repair
With other maids to morning-prayer
And as I pass'd, the cuckow spoke,
From the green oak:
Coo-coo—coo-coo!
"O thou my golden, golden dove!"
Coo-coo—coo-coo!
"Stretch out thy hand, my love."Kaukněte matinko.
Mother! look round thee,
Round thee and see,
All the youths struggling,
Struggling for me.
