She, in days twice seven, prayeth

Thee to grace her nuptial banquet
By thy presence at Ratibor!'

• Hath the maid—my foeman's daughter, Of a foreign land a dweller

One to be her liege-lord chosen,

Who his father's counsel slighteth

Who his father's blessing scorneth,

Never shall she see that father

At her nuptial banquet seated!'

Horse-hoofs thunder-ringing horse-hoofs

At the gate of ancient Biwog:

With wild neigh, dilated nostrils,

Flowing rein and empty saddle,

There his son's gray steed is stamping,
Covered with the foam of travel.

Up Count Biwog starts-the old man-
Loud he wails with bitter wailing:

'Wo! my gray steed, my good courser,
Thou art but a fearful herald!
Wo! my noble son is slaughtered
By the fell club of the robber!'

Youthful strength to limbs so aged-
Youthful fire to veins so withered,

Swift returned, as aged Biwog

Mounted and spurred back his courser,
Guided by the snowy hoof-tracks.

So three days-long, long days-followed
That old man the courser's hoof-tracks;
Nor to right nor left once turning
His sad eyes, till by Ratibor

He, all worn and weary, stayed him.

From the castle gate, wide opened,
Rushed brave Stibor, rushed fair Ulla,
At the old man's feet low kneeling.

Hark! how bold young Stibor pleadeth!

Father Biwog! noble Biwog!

For the maidens' sake whom Ulla

With her courteous message sent thee-
For the true love's sake which led thee
Back upon the courser's hoof-tracks
Swift to spur, thy lost son seeking-
For the sake of fair, young Ulla,

Who is wise and good and gentle,
Change thine ancient hate to friendship!

Father Biwog! noble Biwog!

Bless with loving words our union!'

Down the old man gazed upon them-
On his bold, brave son-his only-
Gazed upon the youthful Ulla,

Who, her soft bright flaxen tresses
Floating round her snowy shoulders,
Turned her eyes of heavenly azure
Gently, sweetly, meekly on him.

And the stern old man, no longer
That strange, touching sight enduring,
Felt the ice of hatred melting

In his cold, relentless bosom ;

Felt his heart more warmly beating,

Spread his father arms, and fondly

Clasped them round his kneeling children!

Thus beheld young, noble Stibor,
Thus beheld fair, gentle Ulla,
Smilingly, Count Biwog seated
At their happy nuptial banquet!