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18
MICHAEL ZRINYI.
When winter comes on, with its loud-rolling storms,
And the snow and the ice in their marvellous forms,
Am I wretched? O no! I hang over my fire,
And have more than I want—aye! and all I desire.
I have honour and fame, full enough for my lot;
And my gettings still add to the treasures I've got:
My horse is my glory—my sabre is true—
And O, my sweet maid! thou art faithfulness too.
O Fortune! thou wearest my fetters—art bound
In my bonds—and I look without terror around:
No evil will chance me—I feel that the chain
But binds thee more firmly to bless me again.
[This Song is from the Third Book of the Zrnyiad, verses 32
—39.]
