"The world's seductions young men's minds soon reach,
While youths, unwitting, oft themselves deceive,
So hasten not to do what others teach,
But let them seek your counsel to receive.
To recognize the truth is passing rare,
To speak it plain unvarnished harder still;
In life who learns true witness brave to bear
Becomes attuned to virtue's righteous will."
"Maintain in struggles stout your people's way,
Your grandsires' teachings always give respect;
And never heed what hypocrites may say,
Who urge you freedom's spirit to neglect.
Such people for themselves good fortune seek,
In finding victims God's name oft employ,
But later with the Devil's poison reek;
They serve but evil and-at length-destroy."
"The Latvian people on their own fair shore
Do not bow down to lords high-born as sage;
They choose themselves their chiefs in time of war-
The magistrates in older, peaceful age.
The people know of those who earned great fame
By toiling hard in mighty labours long;
To these come lasting praise and honoured name,
As heroes known they live in endless song."
With earnest soul Bearslayer heard his lord,
The heartfelt words of life's wise teachings large.
Into his breast an urgent feeling poured,
The wish that he fulfil his father's charge.
And so he promised to observe all that,
Embraced his father, pressed his hand so stout,
Then leaped into his saddle, doffed his hat,
And, raising shield and lance, rode boldly out.
Scene 3: Bearslayer meets Spidala at Aizkraukle
He arrives at the castle
Within the castle, watching from his chair,
Sat old Aizkrauklis wrapped in thought profound.
His only daughter, Spidala the fair,
Sat at the pane with beads and rings decked round.
Her face possessed a haunting beauty rare,
But yet her eyes showed wildness without bound.
And so that tender spell she did not weave,
That gently draws and steals the young man's heart;
Her ardent eyes too swiftly could deceive-
To gaze into them risked a burning dart.
"Oh, Spidala," her father sought her leave,
And slowly raised his head in thoughtful art:
"I wish to know an answer still this morn:
Whence come those finest jewels that, preening vain,
You wear your neck and hands thus to adorn?"-
That Spidala then started he saw plain,
The question shocked her that his voice had borne,
Yet in a trice her answer came again:
"Godmother gave to me these jewels to own,
When last into our village she came here;
In golden caskets more I have been shown."
The old man spoke: "Alas my daughter dear,
Such gifts to take I cannot more condone,
And in the future must forbid, I fear."