The Canadian-American Review of Hungarian Studies - Vol. 4 ... - EPA

And all the while his anger fiercer grewBecause his bloody plan had fallen through.All night long, Nicholas wandered, staunch yet pale,Braving the rain, the lightning and the gale.And when the dawn the night afar had chasedHe found himself amid a desert waste.Who was his comrade as the day passed by?The sun that followed him across the sky,Caught up, passed on, and sank at last from sight,Leaving him friendless in the sodden night.Three days passed by: and on the fourth at noonHe saw in a mirage great mountains swoon;He was amazed the like he ne'er had seenNot the mirage but mountain peaks serene.He hastened on and on, through weary hours;When evening came, he glimpsed tall Buda's towers.And just before the sunset hour he cameAnd saw the well-known field of Rakos' fame.The field of Rakos close to Pest is set;It was at Pest that he with evening met,Beside a cemetery, in whose parkThe mound of a new grave was looming dark.Whose grave it was, he did not greatly care,But — God Almighty! — who was standing there?Surely his mother, in a mourning dress,Bowed by a pair of crosses in distress!Not she, but someone like her, it appears.A stone would have been melted by her tears.Why should not Nicholas make her grief his own,Having a heart much softer than a stone?His bosom filled with pity, up he steppedAnd asked her who it was for whom she wept.Then the sad widow who this watch was keepingAnswered his question with a storm of weeping."Oh, my dear lad! Your word my sorrow stuns.Today I buried here two gallant sons: