Conquest of the Magyar Land

Remember we our sires of old,
Their flight from the Scythian land;
The patriarchs of the Magyars,
And the valor of their band!

Forth from the Scythian land they came,
This better land to see;
By Isten led, they onwards sped
Adown to Erdély.

And glorious were their doings then:
Seven bands composed the host;
Seven valiant chieftains led the men,
And each a Var could boast.

In their communion all was union,
And valor in the fray;
No thought of fear was ever there,
But safety kept the sway.

They conquered long—like Samson strong,
All foemen they subdued;
With lion-hearts o'erwhelming all—
A fearful multitude.

Of all the band, the Magyars' pride
Was the renowned Arpād;
He was the highest, noblest chief,
And greatest riches had.

And soon they found, while wandering round,
The Duna's waters clear;
In beauteous road those waters flow'd—
No clearer waters were.

They hurried then a messenger,
The Duna's stream to track;
And, did its name deserve its fame,
The borders to attack.

The messenger pursued the stream,
The banks, the fields, the flood;
He drank of Duna's water there,
And swore that it was good.

A Lengyel Lord was ruler then,
Of all the land the Lord;
Veszprem his court—but over all
Was spread a Nemet horde.

The messenger to Veszprem came,
The Polish Count to see;
And bow'd his head in reverence,
And thus spoke cunningly:

"I came to see thy land and thee,
And, Herczeg, this the cause
That I resort to Veszprem's court:—
To learn thy people's laws."

This pleased the Count, and nobly he
The Magyar entertain'd;
And much he saw of Lord and law,
And much instruction gain'd.

An empty flask he dar'd to ask,
Where Duna's waters pass;
The flask he filled, some earth he took,
And pluck'd a little grass.

And hastened back to Erdely,
And sought the chief, Arpād;
And much joyed he, the things to see,
The faithful Magyar had.

He called together all the chiefs,
He shewed the water clear,
The bit of earth, the blades of grass,
And held a council there.

And then decreed, a snow-while steed
The Magyar should convey;
With golden bit, and saddle rich,
And thus be charged to say:

"The men who out of Scythia came,
Have sent this steed to thee;
And from thy grace, they ask a place
To settle quietly."

The Count saw nought of what was thought
By those the steed who sent;
And for the love of snow-white steed,
His land was from him rent.

"Go, messenger," he said; "declare"—
His folly went so far—
"I give whatever lands they ask,
To the brave Magyār."

The messengers delighted heard;
Their bosoms fill'd with glee,
They said, "Farewell!" and went to tell
Their tale in Erdély.

They made a call on heroes all,
And straight a council held;
And summoned every man to meet
The Herczeg in the field.

And thrice on Isten's name they called,
The Deus of their prayer;
And then the Godhead's title gave
To Szamos' city there.

And yet we recollect the day,
And in all bargains we
Still loudly "Deus! Deus!" say,
In that time's memory.

And when the bands were ready all,
They order'd heralds three;
The Polish Lord, with this bold word,
To visit speedily:

"Remember, Herczeg! what thou dost—
To leave the land prepare;
Which thou hast sold to Magyars bold—
The Magyars hasten here."

The heralds sought the Polish Count,
And bent them low and meek;
Yet free from fright, they spoke outright,
As Arpād bade them speak.

"For snow-white steed thou gav'st the land;
For golden bit, the grass;
For the rich saddle, Duna's stream—
Now bring the deed to pass."

The Herczeg laugh'd at first, nor cared
For what the heralds brought;
But soon his rage o'ercame his mirth,
And thus he spoke his thought:

"'Twere better to have slain the steed,
Than sport such dangerous wit;
The saddle hide 'neath Duna's stream—
Beneath the grass, the bit."

The heralds to the Herczeg said,
"Your Highness need not storm;
The bargain made with Magyar men,
Your Highness must perform.

"We give not milk-white steed to hounds,
To fish, no saddles gay;
To reapers give no golden bits—
We know not what they'd say."

And so the heralds hasten back;
While, fill'd with dread alarms,
Retreating wide to Duna's side,
The Count his army arms.

At Kelemfold, Arpād the bold
O'er Duna's waters goes;
At Cseke's land his forces mann'd—
In Tetem were the foes.

The Magyar throng in Érd was strong,
And on Szászhalom's plain:
In those proud wars, the Magyars,
By God upheld, their foemen quell'd,
And mighty was their gain.

His brave-ones dead, the Herczeg fled—
Alone he fled—alone:
The Magyar ranks reach'd Duna's banks—
The Polish Count was gone.

Alone he ran, poor flying man!
What could he do but leap—
To save himself in Duna's stream,
And hide him in the deep?

Arpād look'd round with joy to see
His conquests fair and far;
And more while from a mountain's top
He look'd on Fejervár.

The kingdom thus was won by us,
And Magyar-ország hight;
From Nemet men we won it then,
And still 'tis ours by right.

Of those who gain'd the Magyar land,
A chief as bold as any,
Was Buda, who when Arpād died,
Was Magyar's Kapitany.

He rear'd his throne by Duna's banks,
Near Pesth along the hill;
And Buda's city, fair and rich,
Preserves his memory still.