Refreshed his weary lips. The days prescribed,
Three anxious days of prayer and hope, were past,
Each altar visited, each vow fulfilled.
Though poor in worldly treasure, they were rich
In purer wealth—a family of love.
Their distant home in green Bohemia lay,
Where a fair daughter in ripe womanhood
Hung like a mother o’er the little band,
Who watched with longing eyes a sire’s return.
Ere darkness fell on him, he sat and sang,