[All]
Good King Wenceslas looked out
On the feast of Stephen,
When the snow lay round about,
Deep and crisp and even;
Brightly shone the moon that night,
Tho’ the frost was cruel,
When a poor man came in sight,
Gathering winter fuel.
[Men]
“Hither, page, and stand by me
If thou knowst it, telling,
Yonder peasant, who is he?
Where and what his dwelling?”
[Ladies]
“Sire, he lives a good league hence,
Underneath the mountain,
Right against the forest fence,
By St. Agnes’ fountain.”
[Men]
“Bring me flesh and bring me wine,
Bring me pine logs hither;
Thou and I will see him dine
When we bear them thither.”
[All]
Page and monarch forth they went,
Forth they went together,
Thro’ the rude wind’s wild lament,
And the bitter weather.
[Ladies]
“Sire, the night is darker now,
And the wind blows stronger;
Fails my heart, I know not how,
I can go no longer.”
[Men]
“Mark my footsteps, good my page,
Tread thou in them boldly;
Thou shall find the winter’s rage
Freeze thy blood less coldly.”
[All]
In his master’s steps he trod,
Where the snow lay dinted;
Heat was in the very sod
Which the saint had printed;
Therefore, Christian men, be sure,
Wealth or rank possessing,
Ye who now will bless the poor,
Shall yourselves find blessing.