The stars were shining like a blazing shower,
The earth below was sleeping;
The princess felt uneasy at that hour, —
See, from her bed she's creeping.
(This was a common thing to do,
Though wise old Krok of it ne'er knew).
Her horse she went to saddle.

The little horse of hers was white as snow;
A dangle's on its brow,
And golden plaques upon its reins, I know,
Made music for her now.
He started slowly, took a trot,
To Stadice, the very spot,
Where oats were in good measure.

He knew to find that well-known road at night
As you have learned this song.
He brought the prince who farmed, while it was light,
Her love undying, strong.
And on that selfsame path he led
Prague's envoys running where he fled,
As if they were assigned to chase him.

M ORAL

O wisdom, wisdom, where art thou, I ask?
I hear men cry aloud.
To wake a scandal, that is not my task
But this may be allowed.
For ill may not a land befall,
When at a trying time for all
A horse plays politics.