There, near Prague, at Weissenberg, now
For Bohemia's throne they're fighting.
Palsgrave, 'twas a short sad winter!
Palsgrave, thou wast sore defeated!
Spur thy horse and seek a refuge!
"O thou fairest of all women,
From my dream what an awaking!
For there came to me the Beadle,
Summoned me before the Rector.
Grimly wrinkled he his forehead,