“Thou, Zbyhon, in yon castle steep,
“My dear, my darling love dost keep,
“In yon castle strong, yon castle steep.
“Thou, pigeon, with the hawk had'st striven,
“Had a valiant heart to thee been given,
“Thou had’st reft from the hawk thy mate with might,
“Had’st thou had talons sharp to fight;
“Thou had’st slain the cruel hawk, I ween,
“Had thine a beak flesh-rending been.
“Up, woeful youth! ’gainst Zbyhon go!
“Thine a brave heart against the foe!
“Thine weapons keen and strong for fight!
“An iron mace his head to smite!”
Down speeds the youth thro’ the darksome wood,
Shoulders his mace, dons his armour good,
Thro’ the dark wood hastes to the castle steep,
Arrives at night;—all, all asleep;
With strong fist knocks. “Who’s there?” they cried;
“A hunter benighted.” The gate spreads wide.
Knocks again. The next door is undone at his call;
“Where, where is Lord Zbyhon?”[1] “Beyond the great hall”—
- ↑ Vladyka Zbyhon. See Note C.
