S20E4: "Good King Wenceslas" by Vaclav Svoboda, trans. by John Mason Neale (S14 Encore)

1 rich Libsyn https://www.libsyn.com 90 600 S20E4: "Good King Wenceslas" by Vaclav Svoboda, trans. by John Mason Neale (S14 Encore) As befits the time of year, we will be reading six poems of Advent and Christmas. This series is a re-airing of episodes from Season 14. &nbsp;We have selected certain familiar poems, which may yet contain certain surprises in their authorship and composition history, as well as some less well-known pieces which we hope will help you better enjoy the late days of the year leading up to the great Feast of the Nativity of Christ the Lord.&nbsp; Today's poem is "Good King Wenceslas" by Vaclav Svoboda in translation by John Mason Neale. Reading begins at timestamp 6:53. Good King Wenceslas by Vaclav Svoboda, translation by John Mason Neale Good King Wenceslas look’d out, &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; On the Feast of Stephen; When the snow lay round about, &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; Deep, and crisp, and even: Brightly shone the moon that night, &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; Though the frost was cruel, When a poor man came in sight, &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; Gath’ring winter fuel. &nbsp; “Hither page and stand by me, &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; If thou know’st it, telling, Yonder peasant, who is he? &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; Where and what his dwelling?” “Sire, he lives a good league hence. &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; Underneath the mountain; Right against the forest fence, &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; By Saint Agnes’ fountain.” &nbsp; “Bring me flesh,and bring me wine, &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; Bring me pine-logs hither: Thou and I will see him dine, &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; When we bear them thither.” Page and monarch forth they went, &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; Forth they went together; Through the rude wind’s wild lament, &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; And the bitter weather. &nbsp; “Sire, the night is darker now, &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; And the wind blows stronger; Fails my heart, I know not how, &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; I can go no longer.” “Mark my footsteps, good my page; &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; Tread thou in them boldly; Thou shalt find the winter’s rage &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; Freeze thy blood less coldly.” &nbsp; In his master’s steps he trod, &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; Where the snow lay dinted; Heat was in the very sod &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; Which the Saint had printed. Therefore, Christian men, be sure, &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; Wealth or rank possessing, Ye who now will bless the poor, &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; Shall yourselves find blessing. The Well Read Poem http://www.theliterary.life/ <iframe title="Libsyn Player" style="border: none" src="//html5-player.libsyn.com/embed/episode/id/39462300/height/90/theme/custom/thumbnail/yes/direction/forward/render-playlist/no/custom-color/87A93A/" height="90" width="600" scrolling="no" allowfullscreen webkitallowfullscreen mozallowfullscreen oallowfullscreen msallowfullscreen></iframe> https://assets.libsyn.com/secure/item/39462300