The Digger
From the Portuguese of Guerra Junqueiro
By Edgar Prestage
The cock crows this December'night . . .
The cock crows hoarsely this dark night . ,
—Misery ! oh, misery !
Villager sleep not ! Call the wight . . .
Black sorrow, hasten, call the wight ! . . .
—Misery ! oh, misery !
The digger is thy slave of right,
Out with his hoe, for he of right,
Black sorrow, is a slave to thee !
Howls the wind, the nests are shaking . . .
In dread night the nests are shaking . . .
—Misery ! oh, misery!
Cold as ermine snow is flaking . . .
In the dusk the snow is flaking . . .
—Misery ! oh, misery !
Maledict his way is making,
Hoe on shoulder he is making,
That digger, a dark phantom he !
From the Portuguese of Guerra Junqueiro
By Edgar Prestage
The cock crows this December'night . . .
The cock crows hoarsely this dark night . ,
—Misery ! oh, misery !
Villager sleep not ! Call the wight . . .
Black sorrow, hasten, call the wight ! . . .
—Misery ! oh, misery !
The digger is thy slave of right,
Out with his hoe, for he of right,
Black sorrow, is a slave to thee !
Howls the wind, the nests are shaking . . .
In dread night the nests are shaking . . .
—Misery ! oh, misery!
Cold as ermine snow is flaking . . .
In the dusk the snow is flaking . . .
—Misery ! oh, misery !
Maledict his way is making,
Hoe on shoulder he is making,
That digger, a dark phantom he !