The Tale of the Dead Princess and the Seven Knights [antikvár]

With his suite the Tsar departed. The Tsaritsa tender-hearted At the window sat alone, Wishing he would hurry home. All day every day she waited, Gazing till her dedicated Eyes grew weak from overstrain, Gazing at the empty plain. Not a sign of her beloved! Nothing but the snowflakes hurried Heaping drifts upon the lea. Earth was white as white could be. Nine long months she sat and waited, Kept her vigil unabated. Then from God on Christmas Eve She a daughter did receive. Next day early in the morning, Love and loyalty rewarding. Home again from travel far Came at last the father-Tsar. One fond glance at him she darted. Gasped for joy with thin lips parted Then fell back upon her bed And by prayer-time was dead.