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Good King Wenceslas
(John Mason Neale)

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 mane came in sight,
Gath’ring winter fuel.
“Hither, page, and stand by me,
If thou know’st it, telling,
Yonder peasant, who is he?
Where and what his dwelling?”
“Sire, he lives a good league hence,
Underneath the mountain;
Right against the forest fence,
By St. Agnes fountain!”
“Bring me flesh and bring me wine,
Bring me pinelogs hither;
Thou and I will see him dine
When we bear them hither.”
Page and monarch forth they went,
Forth they went together
Thro’ the rude wind’s wild lament
And the bitter weather.

La trovi in: Le coccole delle feste