At his right, the headsman goes,
Holds in his hand the keen-edged sword;
At his left goes his sister dear,
And she weeps as the torrent pours,
And she sobs as the fountains gush.
Comforting speaks her brother to her:
"Weep not, weep not, my sister dear!
Weep not away thy eyes so clear,
Dim not, O dim not thy face so fair,
Make not heavy thy joyous heart!
Say, for what is it thou weepest so?
Is 't for my goods, my inheritance?
Is 't for my lands, so rich and wide?
Is 't for my silver, or is 't for my gold?
Or dost thou weep for my life alone?"
"Ah, thou, my light, my brother dear,
Not for thy goods or inheritance,
Not for thy lands, so rich and wide,
Is 't that my eyes are weeping so;
Not for thy silver and not for thy gold,
'Tis for thy life, I am weeping so."
"Ah, thou, my light, my sister sweet!
Thou mayest weep, but it won't avail;
Thou mayest beg, but 't is all in vain;
Pray to the Tzar, but he will not yield.
Merciful truly was God to me,
Truly gracious to me the Tzar,
So he commanded my traitor head
Off should be hewn from my shoulders strong."
Now the scaffold the prince ascends.
Calmly mounts to the place of death;
Prays to his Great Redeemer there,
Humbly salutes the crowd around;
"Farewell world, and thou people of God;
Pray for my sins that burden me sore!"
Scarce had the people ventured then
On him to look, when his traitor head
Off was hewn from his shoulders strong.
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