BENES HERMANOW.
9
In columns long the Germans march,
The Germans Saxons are,
Into our country from the hills,
That wave with woods afar.
“Give, give, ye wretches, silver, gold,
“And all that ye possess,
“Or else ye shall in flames behold
“Mansions and cottages!”
And they have burn’d our all, have ta’en
Our gold and silver too,
Our cattle they have driv’n away,
And now towards Trosky go.
O do not, peasant, do not mourn!
The grass again will grow,
Although it long has trodden been
By footsteps of the foe.
Twine, twine, of wild flowers twine a wreath
For your deliv’rers brow!
The green corn glitters fresh again,
And all a change doth know.
Yea, quickly all a change did know,
Lo! how the people all
To council Benes Hermanow
Against the foe doth call!
