Reilly: Lyric Page

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, though the frost was cruel

When a poor man came in sight, gathering winter’s 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 pine logs hither

Thou and I shall see him dine when we bear him thither.”

Page and monarch forth they went, forth they went together

Through the rude wind’s wild lament and the bitter weather


“Sire the night is darker now and the wind grows stronger

Fails my heart, I know not how I can go no longer.”

“Mark my footsteps my good page, tread thou in them boldly

Thou shalt find the winter’s rage freeze thy blood less coldly.”


In his master’s steps he trod where the snow lay dinted

Heat was in the very sod which the saint had printed

So good Christian men be sure, wealth and rank possessing

Ye who now will bless the poor, shall yourselves find blessing