Svatopluk Čech, Poet Lore (1916)
“ A Young Slave.—Praise sing thou to a maid’s fair form and eye. Another.—Ring the bells of jest. An Old Man.—Disclose the deeds of ages long gone by. The Bard.—Other themes by far today resound through my unhappy soul, Like the roar and rumble of the storms that o'er the heavens roll. Far from these are flowery adornment, girlish grace, and heroes’ pride: Sighs, groans, gnash of teeth and clash of chains now in my themes abide. Slaves.—Clash of chains is but a common strain to us, yet play and sing; Subdue thy voice, lest our sleeping lords and guard the whip to you bring. ”
