Maidens danced to crown him with flowers. The songs of their joy rang
from the headwaters of the Lyubisha to the waves of the Black Ocean, up
the highest mountains and down the fairest glens; and all the bells of
Zorkagrad pealed until Lake Stoyan gave back their music.
Springtime came, never more sweet, and blossoms well-nigh buried the
tomb which Gospodar Bodin had raised for St. Kossara. There did he often
pray, in after years of his lordship over us; and while he lived, no
foeman troubled the peace she brought us through his valor. Sing, poets,
of his fame and honor! Long may God give us folk like these!
And may they hearten each one of us. For in this is our hope.
Amen