The war-axe struck into a tree,
The tree on the host doth fall,
And thirty to their fathers go—
In wrath doth Ludiek call:
“Thou monster! giant serpent’s brood!
“Come, draw thy sword to fight!”
And Zaboi heaves his sword, and doth
A piece from his buckler smite;
When Ludiek strikes again, his sword
Doth vain on the tough shield light.
With rage inflam’d they strike amain,
Till each is wounded sore,
A wound appears in every part,
And all around is gore;
And those in savage combat near
With blood they spurtle o’er.
The sun o’erpasseth noon, from noon
Approacheth towards even-tide,
And still ’tis fought, nor here nor there
Retreat on either side;
Here Zaboi fought, and Slavoi there
The foe alike defied.
“Hence, murderer! Bies[1] receive thee! hence!
“Why drink’st thou yet our blood?”
- ↑ Bies, the evil spirit, connected probably with the German word bös.
