"
"Ah, verily a Jester's prayer,"
Exclaimed the knightly crew,
"To ask of such a noble lord
What you know he cannot do."
"Who says I cannot," Stibor cried,
"Do whatsoe'er I will?
Within one year a castle shall stand
On yonder rocky hill--
"A castle built of ponderous stones,
To give me future fame;
In honor of my witty Fool,
Betzko shall be its name."
Now the cliff was high three hundred feet,
And perpendicular;
And the skill that could build a castle there
Must come from lands afar.
And craftsmen came from foreign lands,
Italian, German and Jew--
Apprentices and fellow-craftsmen,
And master-masons, too.
And every traveler journeying
Along the mountain-ways
Was held to pay his toll of toil
On the castle for seven days.
Slowly they raised the massive towers
Upon the steep ascent,
And all around a thousand hands
Built up the battlement.
Three hundred feet above the glen--
(By the steps five hundred feet)--
The castle stood upon the cliff
At the end of the year--complete.
Now throughout all the Magyar land
There's none other half so high,
So massive built, so strong and grand;--
It reaches the very sky.
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