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diff --git a/39028-0.txt b/39028-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..e0e333e --- /dev/null +++ b/39028-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,5476 @@ +The Project Gutenberg eBook, Servian Popular Poetry, by John Bowring + + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + + + + +Title: Servian Popular Poetry + + +Author: John Bowring + + + +Release Date: March 2, 2012 [eBook #39028] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + + +***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK SERVIAN POPULAR POETRY*** + + +Transcribed from the 1827 Baldwin, Cradock and Joy edition by David +Price, email ccx074@pglaf.org + + + + + + НАРОДНЕ СРПСКЕ ПЈЕСМЕ. + + + * * * * * + + SERVIAN POPULAR POETRY, + + TRANSLATED BY + + JOHN BOWRING. + + * * * * * + + [Picture: Serbian italic text, possibly Гошпе, братіа, да вам рцјеч + Кажец!] + + * * * * * + + LONDON: + PRINTED FOR THE AUTHOR: + SOLD BY BALDWIN, CRADOCK, AND JOY, PATERNOSTER-ROW: + AND ROWLAND HUNTER, ST. PAUL’S CHURCHYARD. + + * * * * * + + 1827. + + * * * * * + + LONDON: + PRINTED BY THOMAS DAVISON, WHITEFRIARS. + + + + +TO +DR. STEPH. VUK KARADJICH. + + + MY friend! it is thou, it is thou + Who hast usher’d these gems into day; + ’Tis my pride and my privilege now + To honour—I fain would repay + Thy toils, and would bind round thy brow + The laurels that grow o’er thy lay. + + We knew that the sun-light shone fair + On thy Servia;—we knew ’twas a clime + Of mountains and streams, where the air + Was fragrant,—though history and time + Had rear’d not their pyramids there: + But we knew not the spirit sublime + + Of music, and pathos, and song, + Look’d down from the towers of Belgrad, + Had dwelt in the Mōrava long, + In the garb of Trebunia was clad; + We welcome thee now to the throng + Of _our_ muses, rejoicing and glad. + + Unborrow’d the light thou hast shed, + Though mild as the light of the moon: + Thy flowers, from thine own native bed, + Thou hast gather’d and given: Not soon + Shall they fade; and thy music shall spread, + And voices unnumber’d attune. + + My song will but fall on thine ear, + As a voice that appeals to the grave: + In vain I invite thee to hear: + Go, happy enthusiast! and save + From time’s storm the memorials so dear, + Which had else been o’erwhelm’d in its wave. + + Thy tenement is but of clay; + Thou art frailer than most of us be: + Yet a sunshine has lighted thy way, + Whose effluence is sunshine to me:— + And ’tis sweet o’er thy Servia to stray, + And to listen, pale minstrel! to thee. + + + + +INTRODUCTION. + + +IN the middle of the seventh century, a number of Slavonian tribes +stretched themselves along the Sava and the Danube, down to the Black +Sea, and founded, at different times, no less than six separate kingdoms, +those of Bulgaria, Croatia, Servia, Bosnia, Slavonia, and Dalmatia; under +the name _Srb_, the four last of these nations must be considered as +comprised. Their earlier history it is not easy to trace. Slavonian +writers are disposed to represent the Maestidæ, who made an incursion +into Italy during the age of Claudius Tacitus (A.D. 276), as synonymous +with the Sarmatæ; and Kopitar (a high authority) has gathered much +evidence to prove that the dialect spoken in the district to the east of +Sparta is of Slavonic origin. Leake has remarked, that many of the names +of places in the Morea are Slavonian,—Kastanika, Sitina, Gorica, and +others. In the neighbourhood of Sparta is a town called Σηλαφοχωρὶ, and +it is notorious, that the language of several of the islands of the +Grecian Archipelago, Hydra for example, is Slavonic. The original +meaning of the word _Srb_, it is not easy to fix. Some derive it from +_Srp_, a _sickle_, _others from Sibir_, _Sever_, _the north_; others from +_Sarmat_, or _Sarmatian_; some from the Latin _Servus_; but Dobrowsky +says, “Significatum radicis _Srb_, consultis etiam dialectis omnibus, +nondum licuit eruere.” {0a} In the year 640, the Servians built, with +the permission of Heraclius, the city of Servica, on the banks of the +Danube. Little can be traced of their history till, under Vlastimir, at +the end of the ninth century, they were the tributaries of the Greeks. +At this period, they appear to have been engaged in wars with the +Bulgarians, whom they subdued. At the beginning of the 11th century, +Vladimir assumed the title of king of Servia. Afterwards, during the +reign of Tzedomil, the Servians acknowledged the Roman authority, and +leagued themselves with its emperors against Comnenus the Grecian +monarch, in consequence of which Comnenus marched upon Servia (in 1151), +subdued its inhabitants, and led their leader Tzedomil into captivity. +The submission of the latter obtained his release; but the Servians, +impatient of foreign control, made another attempt to free themselves, +but were defeated on the banks of the Morava, by Isaac Angelos, in 1192, +when Stephen Nemana was proclaimed monarch, with the title of _Despot_. +His successor, Stephen Nemanich, was driven from his throne by the +Hungarians, and his brother Vuk Nemanich was proclaimed king or _Kral_ of +Servia, under Hungarian authority. He reigned for a very short period, +and the regal power again reverted to Stephen. At this period, however, +separate from, and almost independent of monarchical authority, a number +of dukes, princes, and _Bans_, exercised a sway in Servia; Bosnia, then +called Rama, South Bosnia or Herzegovina, and Rascia, that part of +southern Servia, through which the river Raska flows, were frequently +detached from, and as frequently re-united to Servia proper. Milutin +Urosh, who reigned from 1275 to 1321, was subdued by Charles the First of +Hungaria. Soon after arose the monarch who is one of the most +illustrious names in Servian song and Servian story, Dushan Silni (Dushan +the mighty), who carried on several successful campaigns against the +Greeks, and recovered many of the lost provinces of his country. He took +the title of Tzar, {0b} and was succeeded by that ill-fated Lazar, whose +defeat by the sultan Murad (Amurath), on the field of Kosova (June 15, +1389), is the subject of so many of the melancholy ballads of the +Servians. Murad was stabbed by the Servian Molosh Obilich, and Lazar was +executed in the Mussulmans’ camp. Murad’s brother (Bajazet), divided +Servia between the two sons of Lazar, who did homage and paid heavy +tribute. Since then, no dawn of liberty has shone upon Servia. Reduced +to be the bloody theatre of the fierce wars which have been carried on +between the Turks and Hungarians, every struggle for freedom—each feebler +than the former one, has only served to deteriorate her condition, and to +destroy her hopes. In 1459, Servia was treated solely as a conquered +province,—her most respectable families banished or destroyed, while, +from time to time, vast numbers of Servians emigrated into Hungary. In +1481, prince Pavo Brankovich made an irruption into Servia, and after +defeating the Turks in several battles, headed 50,000 Servians, who fixed +themselves as colonists under the protection of Hungary. In 1689, many +thousand Servians flocked to the army of Leopold the First. The +following year, the patriarch Tzernovich led into Sirmia and Slavonia +nearly sixty thousand Servian families. By the treaty of Passarovich, in +1718, the greater part of Servia was transferred to the Austrians. It +reverted back to the Porte in 1739. In 1759, a vast number of Servians +emigrated into Russia, and peopled Newservia, but they have since been +completely blended with the Russians, whose language they soon adopted. +At the beginning of the present century, Servia was again released from +the Turkish sway, and under the auspices of the Austrian emperor, is now +governed by a _Knes_, or prince, whose name is Milosh Obrenowich. {0c} + + * * * * * + +There are four provinces or governments (Sandshaks), Semendria, Perserin, +Veltshterin, and Aladshahissar, consisting of nearly a million of +Servians, subjected to Turkish authority. The greater part of these are +Christians of the Greek Church. The number of Servians who recognise the +_Greek Church_ is estimated by Schaffarik at 2,526,000. {0d} + + * * * * * + +The various idioms of the Slavonian language may, without exception, be +traced up to one single stem, the old or church Slavonic. From this one +source, two great streams flow forth; the northern, comprehending the +Bohemian, Polish, and Russian; and the southern, composed of the +Hungarian, Bulgarian, and Servian tongues. The latter branches were much +less extensively employed than the former. About a million and a half of +men speak the Hungarian; not more than half a million the Bulgarian, +which in Macedonia has been superseded by the Romaic, the Albanian, and +the Turkish; while the Servian idiom, the most cultivated, the most +interesting, and the most widely spread of all the southern Slavonian +dialects, is the language of about five millions, of whom about two +millions are Mahommedans. {0e} + + * * * * * + +The vicinity of Greece and Italy modified and mellowed the language of +Servia, which is, in fact, the Russian hellenized, deprived of its +hardiness and its consonant terminations, and softened down into a +perfect instrument for poetry and music. {0f} Of the descendants from +the ancient Slavonic, it is more closely allied to the Russian and +Windish idioms, than to the Bohemian or Polish. Vuk Karadjich divides it +into three distinct dialects, the _Herzegovinian_, or that spoken in +Bosnia, Montenegro, Dalmatia, and Croatia; the _Sirmian_, which is used +in Sirmia and Slavonian and the _Resavian_. No doubt the Servian +language has been considerably influenced by the Turkish, but though it +has been enriched by oriental words, it has not adopted an oriental +construction. Schaffarik, in describing the different Slavonic tongues, +says, fancifully but truly, that “Servian song resembles the tune of the +violin; Old Slavonian, that of the organ; Polish, that of the guitar. +The Old Slavonian in its psalms, sounds like the loud rush of the +mountain stream; the Polish, like the bubbling and sparkling of a +fountain; and the Servian like the quiet murmuring of a streamlet in the +valley.” + + * * * * * + +The Servian alphabet consists of only twenty-eight letters, which is +twenty less than the old Slavonic, and seven less than the Russian. The +letters Ъ (dj), Ђ (tj), and Џ the soft g of the Italians, are unknown to +the Russians, and the Servians have added two letters to their alphabet, +by combining the Ь of the Russians with А and Н, making Љ and Њ, which +are equivalent to the Italian gl and gn, the Spanish ll and ñ, and the +Portuguese lh and nh. They have wholly dismissed the Б, which so +constantly and so uselessly occurs in the church Slavonic and Russian. + +No traces of Servian literature go beyond the thirteenth century. {0g} +The Hexaemeron of Basil, the Bulgarian exarch, written in 1263, and the +Epistle of Damian, in 1324, are both in the old church Slavonian tongue. +The first Servian literary record is the _Rodoslov_ of Daniel, archbishop +of Servia, which is a chronicle of the four kings who were his +contemporaries (from 1272 to 1336), beginning with Urosh. This book is a +valuable register of the laws enacted during his life, and throws much +light on early Servian history. An almanack, entitled _Ljetopis_, of +this period, also exists; and of a somewhat later period, the +_Tzarostavnik_, or _Register of Princes_, by an unknown author. Dushan, +with whose name the Servians associate all that is glorious, caused a +book of laws to be written for the use of his kingdom, which breathe a +milder and kinder spirit than would be expected in an age and among a +people so little instructed. They contain some remarkable provisions in +favour of travellers and strangers; and not only compel hospitality, but +protect property, by making the host responsible for its security. The +battle of Kosova introduced a long night of darkness and desolation into +Servia; and though a few religious books were published soon after the +invention of printing, no one work of the slightest interest appeared +till the end of the 17th century, when George Brankovich, {0h} the last +of the Servian _despots_, wrote a history of Servia, bringing it down to +the time of Leopold the First. In 1758, Demetrius Theodosijev +established a Servian press. In 1796, the Austrian government granted a +monopoly of all Servian literature to the university of Ofen, by +suppressing all printing-presses elsewhere. + + * * * * * + +Though it is not my intention to write a general history of the +literature of Servia, in introducing one interesting branch of it to the +English reader, I cannot but slightly refer to the essential services it +has received from a few distinguished writers. + + * * * * * + +_John Raich_ was born in Karlovitz in 1726, and died in 1801. He +received his elementary education from the Jesuits in Komorn, removed to +the evangelical school at Oedenburg, and completed his studies at Kiev. +He afterwards visited the famous convent of Chilendar (on Mount Athos), +which was built and endowed by Shupan Nemana, who died there as a monk, +having taken the name of Simeon. Raich was ultimately chosen +archimandrite of the convent of Kovil, in Chaskisten bataillon. His +principal work, printed at Vienna (1792–5), is his history of the +Slavonian people. {0i} He also wrote a history of Servia, Rasza, Bosnia, +and Rama (Vienna, 1793); a tragedy on the death of the Tzar Urosh (Ofen, +1798); and many theological treatises. He uses the church Slavonian +dialect, but his style is full of Servian and Russian phraseology, which +he perhaps adopted as likely to recommend his productions. + + * * * * * + +_Dosithei Obradovich_, who was born in 1739, and died in 1811, was the +first who ventured to apply the popular language to the purposes of +literature. His birth-place was Chakovo in the _Banat_ of Temeshvar, and +at the age of fourteen he became a monk in the Opovo convent. Here he +was too restless to remain, and having determined to see foreign +countries, he travelled for a quarter of a century, and visited Greece, +Albania, Italy, Turkey, Russia, Germany, France, and England. The love +of home had mastered the desire of change, and he returned to Servia, +when he was made a senator at Belgrad, and appointed to superintend the +education of the children of Tzerny George. He published at Leipzig, in +1783, an auto-biography, entitled “_Tzivot i prikliuchenjia D. +Obranovicza_,” besides sundry poems and fables, and moral treatises. + + * * * * * + +_Demetrius Davidovich_ has greatly assisted in elevating the language of +the Servian people to the best purposes of literary instruction. He is +(I believe at this time) the secretary to Milosh, the hospodar of Servia. +For many years he edited a Servian newspaper at Vienna, and has annually +published a Servian almanack (_Zabavnik_), in which are many interesting +particulars respecting the literary and political history of his country. +The indisposition on the part of the superintendents of schools in +Servia, to employ the popular tongue as the instrument of education, has +been long the ban of civilization, and the barrier to national +improvement. But of late the influence of those who have endeavoured to +make literature subserve the interests and the happiness of the many +rather than the few, has led to the dismissal of Slavonian, and the +substitution of Servian books. A controversy, with much controversial +bitterness, is at the present moment carried on in Servia (where, as +elsewhere, to be dignified is by some thought better than to be useful, +and to please a few pedants is deemed more worthy of ambition than to +instruct a whole people), between the advocates of the antiquated +Slavonic, and those whose simple and intelligible maxim is, “write as you +speak, if you would be understood;” and of the latter every year adds +greatly to the numbers. + + * * * * * + +But of all the writers of Servia, he from whom the volumes emanate whence +these translations are taken, is beyond comparison the most attractive +and the most popular. + + * * * * * + +_Stephanovich Karadjich Vuk_ was born on the 26th October, O. S., in the +year 1787, at _Trshich_, an obscure village in Turkish Servia (Iadar), +near the town of Losnitza and the river Drina, at a short distance from +the Austrian and Hungarian frontier, where, however, the Servian language +is spoken with far more purity than in the larger towns. In his early +youth he passed the borders, and received his education at the Gymnasium +of the dissidents from the Greek church at Karlovitz. There his school +instruction began and ended; but having visited Vienna, intercourse there +with intelligent and instructed men led to the development of the natural +powers of his mind, and directed his inquiries to the hidden stores of +popular literature which his country possessed. A feeble and crippled +frame unfitted him for bodily labour, and all his thoughts and all his +ardour attached themselves to intellectual exertions. He began his +literary career at Vienna, and published in 1814 his Servian Grammar, and +a century of Servian songs; but the embarrassments of the censorship +induced him to seek a freer field for the publication of his works, and +he removed to Leipzig, where the edition, in three volumes, of his +popular Servian poetry, appeared in 1823–4. He soon obtained high +reputation there, and received the diploma of doctor in philosophy, and +was elected to many literary distinctions. The emperor Nicholas, in that +spirit so honourable to many of the autocrats of Russia, has conferred on +him a yearly pension of 100 ducats; and he now pursues his interesting +inquiries, and from time to time exerts that creating and regenerating +power which has called the poetry of Servia into existence, and +established for it a permanent reputation. {0j} + + * * * * * + +The Servians must be reckoned among those races who vibrated between the +north and the east; possessing to-day, dispossessed to-morrow; now fixed, +and now wandering: having their head-quarters in Sarmatia for many +generations, in Macedonia for following ones, and settling in Servia at +last. But to trace their history, as to trace their course, is +impossible. At last the eye fixes them between the Sava and the Danube, +and Belgrade grows up as the central point round which the power of +Servia gathers itself together, and stretches itself along the right bank +of the former river, southwards to the range of mountains which spread to +the Adriatic and to the verge of Montengro. Looking yet closer, we +observe the influence of the Venetians and the Hungarians on the +character and the literature of the Servians. We track their connexion +now as allies, and now as masters; once the receivers of tribute from, +and anon as tributaries to, the Grecian empire; and in more modern times +the slaves of the Turkish yoke. Every species of vicissitude marks the +Servian annals,—annals represented only by those poetical productions of +which these are specimens. The question of their veracity is a far more +interesting one than that of their antiquity. Few of them narrate events +previous to the invasion of Europe by the Turks in 1355, but some refer +to facts coeval with the Mussulman empire in Adrianople. More numerous +are the records of the struggle between the Moslem and the Christian +parties at a later period; and last of all, they represent the quiet and +friendly intercourse between the two religions, if not blended in social +affections, at least associated in constant communion. {0k} + + * * * * * + +The earliest poetry of the Servians has a heathenish character; {0l} that +which follows is leagued with Christian legends. But holy deeds are +always made the condition of salvation. The whole nation, to use the +idea of Göthe, is imaged in poetical superstition. Events are brought +about by the agency of angels, but the footsteps of Satan can be nowhere +traced;—the dead are often summoned from their tombs;—awful warnings, +prophecies, and birds of evil omen, bear terror to the minds of the most +courageous. + + * * * * * + +Over all is spread the influence of a remarkable and, no doubt, antique +mythology. An omnipresent spirit—airy and fanciful—making its dwelling +in solitudes—and ruling over mountains and forests—a being called the +_Vila_, is heard to issue its irresistible mandates, and pour forth its +prophetic inspiration: sometimes in a form of female beauty—sometimes a +wilder Diana—now a goddess gathering or dispersing the clouds, and now an +owl among ruins and ivy. The Vila, always capricious, and frequently +malevolent, is a most important actor in all the popular poetry of +Servia. The _Trica polonica_ is sacred to her. She is equally renowned +for the beauty of her person and the swiftness of her step:—“Fair as the +mountain Vila,” is the highest compliment to a Servian lady—“Swift as the +Vila,” is the most eloquent eulogium on a Servian steed. + + * * * * * + +Of the amatory poems of the Servians, Göthe justly remarks, that, when +viewed all together, they cannot but be deemed of singular beauty; they +exhibit the expressions of passionate, overflowing, and contented +affection; they are full of shrewdness and spirit; delight and surprise +are admirably pourtrayed; and there is, in all, a marvellous sagacity in +subduing difficulties and in obtaining an end; a natural, but at the same +time vigorous and energetic tone; sympathies and sensibilities, without +wordy exaggeration, but which, notwithstanding, are decorated with +poetical imagery and imaginative beauty; a correct picture of Servian +life and manners,—everything, in short, which gives to passion the force +of truth, and to external scenery the character of reality. + + * * * * * + +The poetry of Servia was wholly traditional, until within a very few +years. It had never found a pen to record it, but has been preserved by +the people, and principally by those of the lower classes, who had been +accustomed to listen and to sing these interesting compositions to the +sound of a simple three-stringed instrument, called a _Gusle_; and it is +mentioned by Göthe, that when some Servians who had visited Vienna were +requested to write down the songs they had sung, they expressed the +greatest surprise that such simple poetry and music as theirs should +possess any interest for intelligent and cultivated minds. They +apprehended, they said, that the artless compositions of their country +would be the subject of scorn or ridicule to those whose poetry was so +polished and so sublime. And this feeling must have been ministered to +by the employment, even in Servia, of a language no longer spoken, for +the productions of literature, though it is certain the natural +affections, the everyday thoughts and associations could not find fit +expression in the old church dialect: + + “The talk + Man holds with week-day man in the hourly walk + Of the mind’s business, is the undoubted stalk + “_True song_” doth grow on.” + +The collection of popular songs, _Narodne __srpske pjesme_, from which +most of those which occupy this volume are taken, was made by Vuk, and +committed to paper either from early recollections, or from the +repetition of Servian minstrels. These, he informs us, and his statement +is corroborated by every intelligent traveller, form a very small portion +of the treasure of song which exists unrecorded among the peasantry. How +so much of beautiful anonymous poetry should have been created in so +perfect a form, is a subject well worthy of inquiry. Among a people who +look to music and song as a source of enjoyment, the habit of +improvisation grows up imperceptibly, and engages all the fertilities of +imagination in its exercise. The thought which first finds vent in a +poetical form, if worth preservation, is polished and perfected as it +passes from lip to lip, till it receives the stamp of popular approval, +and becomes as it were a national possession. There is no text-book, no +authentic record, to which it can be referred, whose authority should +interfere with its improvement. The poetry of a people is a common +inheritance, which one generation transfers sanctioned and amended to +another. Political adversity, too, strengthens the attachment of a +nation to the records of its ancient prosperous days. The harps may be +hung on the willows for a while, during the storm and the struggle, but +when the tumult is over, they will be strung again to repeat the old +songs, and recall the time gone by. + + * * * * * + +The historical ballads, which are in lines composed of five trochaics, +are always sung with the accompaniment of the _Gusle_. At the end of +every verse, the singer drops his voice, and mutters a short cadence. +The emphatic passages are chanted in a louder tone. “I cannot describe,” +says Wessely, “the pathos with which these songs are sometimes sung. I +have witnessed crowds surrounding a blind old singer, and every cheek was +wet with tears—it was not the music, it was the words which affected +them.” As this simple instrument, the Gusle, is never used but to +accompany the poetry of the Servians, and as it is difficult to find a +Servian who does not play upon it, the universality of their popular +ballads may be well imagined. + + * * * * * + +Independently of the measure of ten syllables, universally used in the +ballads of the Servians, they have verses of seven syllables, consisting +of two trochaics and one dactyl: + + Wĭlt thoŭ lōve thy̆ Mīlĭtză? + +Of eight syllables, consisting of four trochaics: as, + + Hāstăn ōnwărd tō thě wēddĭng. + +And of one trochaic between two dactyls: + + Mērrĭly̆, dāncĭng, mērrĭly̆. + +Of ten syllables, two trochaics and two dactyls: + + Mōrăvă’s bānks ăre trōd by̆ thě māidĕn. + +Of twelve syllables, composed of two trochaics and one iambic: + + Gō thěn, Kūm, thŏu lōv’d ŏne, wāits shě fŏr thēe. + +And of thirteen syllables, namely, four trochaics, a dactyl, and a +closing trochaic: + + Lōok ăroūnd, thŏu lōvěly Crētă, smīlĭngly lŏok rōund. + +The translations which have appeared in Germany under the name of Talvj +are the work of an amiable woman (Theresa von Jacob), who having passed +the earlier part of her life in Russia, and possessing a mind cultivated +by literature, and captivated by the natural beauties of Servian poetry, +has most successfully devoted herself to their diffusion. + + * * * * * + +Professor Eugenius Wessely, of Vinkovcze in Slavonia, has also published +a small volume of Translations from the Nuptial Songs of the Servians; +{0m} the renderings have the merit of perfect fidelity, and his +introduction contains many interesting illustrations of Servian manners. + + * * * * * + +In the following translations I have, in all the narrative poetry, +preserved the original measure. _Rhyme_ is seldom used by the Servians. +It is found in some of the shorter lyrical pieces, in the rendering of +which I have allowed myself some latitude of expression. But the wish, +above all things, to preserve most faithfully the character of the +original, has prevented my introducing many very obvious decorations, and +my veiling many equally obvious defects. To fidelity, at least, this +volume may lay an honest claim. I have endeavoured to avail myself of +all the authors who have written on the subject, particularly of the +valuable criticisms of Dr. Kopitar in the Vienna _Iahrbuch der +Litteratur_, of the works of Göthe, Grimm, and Vater. The notes attached +to Talvj’s translation I have employed, without any special reference to +them. + + + + +HISTORICAL, TRADITIONAL, AND RELIGIOUS BALLADS. + + +ABDUCTION OF THE BEAUTIFUL ICONIA. + + + GOLDEN wine drinks Theodore of Stalach, {3} + In his Castle Stalach, on Morava; + Pours him out the wine his aged mother. + While the wine-fumes to his head were rising, + Thus his mother spoke unto the hero: + + “Son of mine! thou Theodore of Stalach! + Tell me, wherefore hast thou not espoused thee? + Thou art in thy youthful days of beauty; + In thy dwelling now thine aged mother + Fain would see thy children play around her.” + + And he answer’d—Theodore of Stalach— + “God is witness, O my aged mother! + I have roamed through many a land and city, + But I never found the sought-for maiden; + Or, when found the maiden, found I never + Friendly feelings in thy mind towards her; + And where thou hast shown thy friendly feeling, + There I found the maiden false and faithless. + But, as yesterday, at hour of sunset, + I was wandering near Resava’s river, + Lo! I glanced on thirty lovely maidens + On its banks their yarn and linen bleaching: + ’Midst them was the beauteous Iconia, + Fairest daughter of the Prince Milutin, + He the princely sovereign of Resava. + She, indeed, would be a bride to cherish; + She, indeed, were worthy of thy friendship: + But that maiden is betrothed already; + She is promised unto George Irēnē— + To Irene, for Sredoi, his kinsman. + But I’ll win that maiden—I will win her, + Or will perish in the deed, my mother!” + + But his mother counsell’d him and warn’d him— + “Say not so, my son! the maid is promised; + ’Tis no jest! she is of monarchs’ kindred.” + + But the hero cared not for his mother: + Loud he called to Dōbrivi, his servant— + “Dobrivi! come hither, trusty servant! + Bring my brown steed forth, and make him ready— + Make him ready with the silver saddle; + Rein him with the gold-embroider’d bridle.” + When the steed was ready, forth he hasten’d, + Flung him on his back, and spurr’d him onward + To the gentle river of Morava, + Flowing through Resava’s quiet levels. + + And he reach’d Resava’s gentle river: + There again he saw the thirty maidens— + There he saw the beauteous Iconia. + Then the hero feign’d a sudden sickness; + Ask’d for help; and sped her courteous greeting— + “God above be with thee, lovely maiden!” + And the loveliest to his words made answer, + “And with thee be bliss, thou stranger-warrior!” + + “Lovely maiden! for the love of heaven, + Wilt thou give one cup of cooling water? + For a fiery fever glows within me; + From my steed I dare not rise, fair maiden! + For my steed, he hath a trick of evil— + Twice he will not let his rider mount him.” + + Warm and earnest was the maiden’s pity, + And, with gentle voice, she thus address’d him: + “Nay! not so—not so, thou unknown warrior! + Harsh and heavy is Resava’s water; + Harsh and heavy e’en for healthful warriors; + How much worse for fever-sickening tired ones! + Wait, and I a cup of wine will bring thee.” + + Swiftly tripp’d the maiden to her dwelling; + With a golden cup of wine return’d she, + Which she reach’d to Theodore of Stalach. + Out he stretch’d his hand; but not the wine cup, + But the maiden’s hand, he seized, and flung her, + Flung her on his chesnut steed behind him; + Thrice he girt her with his leathern girdle, + And the fourth time with his sword-belt bound her; + And he bore her to his own white {7} dwelling. + + + +THE STEPSISTERS. + + + NEAR each other grew two verdant larches, + And, between, a high and slender fir-tree: + Not two larches were they—not two larches, + Not a high and slender fir between them— + They were brothers, children of one mother. + One was Paul; the other brother, Radul. + And, between them, Jēlitza, their sister. + Cordial was the love her brothers bore her; + Many a token of affection gave her, + Many a splendid gift and many a trifle, + And at last a knife, in silver hafted, + And adorn’d with gold, they gave their sister. + + When the youthful wife of Paul had heard it, + Jealousy swell’d up within her bosom: + And she call’d, enraged, to Radul’s lady: + “Sister mine! thou in the Lord my sister, {9} + Dost thou know some plant of demon-virtue, + Which may bring our sister to perdition?” + Radul’s wife her sister swiftly answered— + “In the name of God, what mean’st thou sister? + Of such cursed weeds I know not.—Did I, + Never would I tell thee of them, never; + For my brothers love me; yes! they love me— + To their love full many a gift bears witness.” + + When Paul’s youthful wife had heard her sister, + To the steed she hastened in the meadow, + Gave the steed a mortal wound, and hurried + To her husband, whom she thus accosted:— + “Evil is the love thou bear’st thy sister, + And thy gifts are worse than wasted to her; + She has stabb’d thy courser in the meadow.” + + Paul inquired of Jelitza, his sister, + “Why this deed, as God shall recompense thee!” + + High and loudly then the maid protested, + “By my life, it was not I, my brother; + By my life, and by thy life, I swear it!” + And the brother doubted not his sister. + Which when Paul’s young wife perceived, at even + To the garden secretly she hasten’d, + Wrung the neck of Paul’s grey noble falcon,— + To her husband sped she then and told him: + “Evil is the love thou bear’st thy sister, + And thy gifts to her are worse than wasted; + Lo! she has destroy’d thy favourite falcon.” + + Paul inquired of Jelitza his sister, + “Tell me why, and so may God reward thee!” + + But his sister swore both high and loudly, + “’Twas not I, upon my life, my brother; + On my life and thine, I did not do it!” + And the brother still believed his sister. + When the youthful bride of Paul discover’d + This, she slunk at evening,—evening’s meal-time, + Stole the golden knife, and with it murder’d, + Murder’d her poor infant in the cradle! + And when morning’s dawning brought the morning, + She aroused her husband by her screaming + Shrieking woe; she tore her cheeks, exclaiming: + “Evil is the love thou bear’st thy sister, + And thy gifts to her are worse than wasted; + She has stabb’d our infant in the cradle! + Will thine incredulity now doubt me? + Lo! the knife is in thy sister’s girdle.” + + Up sprang Paul, like one possess’d by madness; + To the upper floor he hasten’d wildly; + There his sister on her mats was sleeping, + And the golden knife beneath her pillow. + Swift he seized the golden knife,—and drew it— + Drew it, panting, from its silver scabbard;— + It was damp with blood—’twas red and gory! + + When the noble Paul saw this, he seized her,— + Seized her by her own white hand, and cursed her: + “Let the curse of God be on thee, sister! + Thou didst murder, too, my favourite courser; + Thou didst murder, too, my noble falcon; + But thou should’st have spared the helpless baby.” + + Higher yet his sister swore, and louder— + “’Twas not I, upon my life, my brother; + On my life, and on thy life, I swear it! + But if thou wilt disregard my swearing, + Take me to the open fields—the desert; + Bind thy sister to the tails of horses; + Let four horses tear my limbs asunder.” + But the brother trusted not his sister: + Furiously he seized her white hand—bore her + To the distant fields—the open desert: + To the tails of four fierce steeds he bound her, + And he drove them forth across the desert;— + But, where’er a drop of blood fell from her, + There a flower sprung up,—a fragrant flow’ret; + Where her body fell when dead and mangled, + There a church arose from out the desert. + + Little time was spent, ere fatal sickness + Fell upon Paul’s youthful wife;—the sickness + Nine long years lay on her,—heavy sickness! + ’Midst her bones the matted dog-grass sprouted, + And amidst it nestled angry serpents, + Which, though hidden, drank her eyelight’s brightness. + Then she mourn’d her misery—mourn’d despairing; + Thus she spoke unto her lord and husband: + “O convey me, Paul, my lord and husband! + To thy sister’s church convey me swiftly; + For that church, perchance, may heal and save me.” + + So, when Paul had heard his wife’s petition, + To his sister’s church he swiftly bore her. + Hardly had they reach’d the church’s portal, + When a most mysterious voice address’d them: + “Come not here, young woman! come not hither! + For this church can neither heal nor save thee.” + Bitter was her anguish when she heard it; + And her lord the woman thus entreated: + “In the name of God! my lord! my husband! + Never, never bear me to our dwelling. + Bind me to the wild steeds’ tails, and drive them; + Drive them to the immeasurable desert; + Let them tear my wretched limbs asunder.” + + Paul then listened to his wife’s entreaties: + To the tails of four wild steeds he bound her; + Drove them forth across the mighty desert. + Wheresoe’er a drop of blood fell from her, + There sprang up the rankest thorns and nettles. + Where her body fell, when dead, the waters + Rush’d and form’d a lake both still and stagnant. + O’er the lake there swam a small black courser: + By his side a golden cradle floated: + On the cradle sat a young grey falcon: + In the cradle, slumbering, lay an infant: + On its throat the white hand of its mother: + And that hand a golden knife was holding. + + + +THE BROTHERS. + + + Two young boys a happy mother nurtured; + Nurtured them through years of dearth and sorrow; + Ever toiling at her restless spindle. + Sweetest names she gave her hopeful children; + One was named Predrāg, {15a}—Nenād {15b} the other. + When Predrag could spring upon his courser, + Rein his courser, and his weapon brandish, + Lo! he left his home and aged mother, + To the mountain fled, and join’d the bandits: + And Nenad alone was left to cheer her. + Of his brother’s fate he nothing guess’d at; + But, as soon as he could mount his courser, + Rein his courser, and his weapon brandish, + He too left his home, and aged mother, + To the mountains fled, and join’d the bandits. + + Three long years he dwelt among the bandits: + He was full of wisdom and discretion; + And in every fray him fortune favour’d: + He became the leader of the bandits. + Full three years he bore him as their leader; + Then did mother-longings move his spirit, + And he thus address’d his fellow-robbers: + + “Comrades mine! mine own beloved comrades! + I have heartfelt longings for my mother. + Let us, comrades! now divide our treasures, + And let each go home and seek his mother.” + Willingly they listened to his counsel; + And, as each received his destined portion, + Many a loud oath swore they in their gladness: + By their brothers swore they, and their sisters. + And Nenad, their leader, piled his treasure, + And again address’d his fellow-robbers: + + “Comrades mine! mine own beloved comrades! + I no brother have—no sister have I; + But I swear by the eternal heaven, + Be my right hand smitten by the palsy, + Let my good steed’s mane be shrunk and shrivell’d, + My sharp sabre rust within its scabbard, + If I add one para to my treasure!” + + So the robbers all their gold partition’d. + Sprung Nenad upon his own good courser, + And he hasten’d to his aged mother. + + Cordial was the greeting, great the gladness; + Hospitality made cheerful welcome: + And, while seated at the feast together, + Nenad whisper’d to his aged mother: + “Mother mine! thou venerable woman! + If it be no shame before the people, + If it be no sin in God’s high presence, + I will ask one question, O my mother! + Tell me why thou gav’st me not a brother? + Tell me why I had no little sister? + When we each received our treasure-portion, + Each in earnest and in eager language + By his brother swore, or by his sister; + I could only swear by my good weapon, + By myself, and by the steed I mounted.” + + Then his mother laugh’d, and laughing answer’d, + “Thou, my son, dost talk a little wildly; + For, indeed, a brother have I given thee; + Long before thy birth Predrag had being: + Only yesterday the sad news reach’d me, + That he is become a highway robber, + In the verdant forest Garevitza, + Where he is the leader of the bandits.” + Then Nenad his mother answer’d quickly, + “Mother dear! O thou most honour’d woman! + Now thou must another dress prepare me, + Skirted-short, and forest-green the colour, + That the forest trees I may resemble. + I will go, and I will see my brother, + So my inner longings may be silenced.” + + Then his aged mother made him answer: + “Play not, son Nenad, with words so idle; + So thou wilt be sacrificed.”—But, reckless, + Little cared Nenad for mother-counsels; + But he did whate’er his spirit prompted. + He was clad in new short-skirted vestment + Of green cloth, the green that dyes the forests; + So a forest tree Nenad resembled. + Then he sprung upon his faithful courser; + On they sped, to seek his distant brother, + And to still his spirit’s inward longings. + + And he spoke not—no! his lips were silent; + Spoke not to his steed, nor to his falcon. + When he reach’d the forest Garevitza, + Loud he cried, as cries the grizzled falcon, + “Garevitza! verdant mountain forest! + Dost thou then possess a youthful hero? + Dost thou hide Predrag, my only brother? + Are there other heroes in thy thickets? + Are there fellow-comrades of my brother?” + Near at hand, beneath a shading fir-tree, + Sat Predrag, the golden wine enjoying. + + When he heard that voice within the forest, + Thus he call’d upon his bandit-comrades: + “Now, ye comrades mine! beloved brothers! + Hide ye in your ambuscades, and listen + To that voice,—the voice of unknown warrior; + Smite him not; but take his treasures from him, + And then bring him to your chief in safety. + Woe to him who does not thus obey me!” + + So they issued forth, just thirty bandits, + In three companies; in each ten bandits:— + By the first ten, lo! he pass’d unheeded; + No one moved to interrupt his progress; + No one bade him halt, or bade his courser: + Each one bent his bow and held his arrow; + And Nenad, with courtesy address’d them: + “Draw not! draw not! brothers of the forest! + God preserve you from the impassion’d longing + That impels me now to seek my brother + O’er the weary world, a tired one, wandering.” + So in peace and undisturb’d he passes; + To the next embattled ten advances. + All their bows are bent, their arrows ready; + And Nenad thus speaks, and passes forward: + “Draw not! draw not! brothers of the forest! + God preserve you from the impassion’d longing + That impels me now to seek my brother + O’er the weary world, a tired one, wandering.” + So in peace and undisturb’d he passes; + To the next embattled ten advances, + With their bows all bent, their arrows ready. + Then impatient rage the youth possesses, + And he rushes on the thirty heroes. + Ten his trusty sabre soon has vanquish’d, + Ten his steed into the dust has trampled, + And the third ten drives he to the forest, + To the forest by the frigid water. + Then Predrag, the bandit chieftain, heard it. + “Help us, now, Predrag! our valiant leader! + For there is a brave and unknown warrior: + He has overwhelm’d thy valiant comrades.” + Swiftly sprung Predrag upon his feet, and + Seized his bow, and seized his arrows swiftly; + To the ambuscade he straightway hastens: + Draws his arrow,—makes his bow-string ready:— + Oh! sad destiny! ill-fated arrow! + Wing’d by fate, the hero’s heart it pierces! + Like a falcon springs Nenad, loud screaming. + Loudly scream’d he to his starting courser: + “Woe! woe! woe! thou hero of the forest! + Brother! brother! woe! the Lord will smite thee! + Thy right hand shall be struck dead with palsy; + That right hand which sped the arrow forward! + Thy right eye shall leap forth from thy forehead; + That right eye which saw my heart blood sprinkled! + Let the impassion’d longings for a brother + Trouble thee as they a brother troubled! + O’er the weary world, a lone one, wandering, + Now has stumbled on his own perdition!” + + When Predrag had heard these words unwonted, + Lo! he sprung up from the pine, inquiring, + “Who art thou, and who thy fathers, hero?” + Then the wounded youth thus feebly answer’d: + “Ask’st thou who I am, and who my fathers? + Wilt thou own me? wilt thou claim my kindred? + I am young Nenad—a hapless hero! + I had once one venerable mother, + And one brother, too, Predrag—one brother: + He my elder and my only brother, + Whom to seek through all the world I wander + Forth, to still my soul’s impassion’d longings; + But to-day ’tis ended—and I perish!” + + When Predrag thus heard his brother’s language, + Misery-stricken pull’d he forth the arrow; + Bent him o’er the young and wounded hero; + Took him from his horse, and gently seated + Nenad on the grass:—“And is it, brother! + Is it thou, indeed?—Thine elder brother, + Thy Predrag, am I:—but sure not mortal + Are thy wounds:—O let me tear asunder— + Let me tear thy shirt—and let me bind them! + Let me bind thy wounds—O let me heal them!” + + Then to him the wounded youth:—”Thank heaven! + Thou, thou art Predrag—thou art my brother— + And my eyes may dwell upon thy visage! + God hath still’d my soul’s impassion’d longings: + I shall die—I know the wounds are mortal: + But to thee my blood shall be forgiven!” + + So he cried,—and soon he sunk in slumber— + And despair possess’d his brother’s spirit. + “O Nenad! Nenad! my light—my sunshine! + Early and serene was thy uprising; + Early, too, and clouded thy downsitting, + O thou sweetest flow’ret of my garden! + Early was thy opening, beauteous flow’ret; + Earlier, earlier far, alas! thy fading!” + + Then he took a dagger from his girdle: + Deep he plunged the dagger in his bosom, + And sank down in death beside his brother. + + + +DUKA LEKA. + + + YESTERDAY was married Duka Leka: + Comes to-day a mandate from the emperor: + “Duka! on—on, Leka! to the army.” + Duka’s steed caparisons he quickly;— + His love holds him by the bridle, weeping:— + “Woe is me!—woe’s me! thou voivode {25} Leka! + Goest thou with thy noble steed to battle, + Leav’st alone thy young bride inexperienced?” + ‘With thy mother, and with mine I leave thee.’ + “Woe is me! woe’s me! thou voivode Leka!— + Thee away—and what avail two mothers?” + + Duka Leka arms him for the battle: + His young bride stands by his courser, weeping:— + “Woe is me! woe’s me! thou voivode Leka! + Goest thou with thy noble steed to battle? + And with whom dost leave thy bride untutor’d?” + ‘With thy father, and with mine I leave thee.’ + “Woe, my Duka! woe! thou voivode Leka!— + Thee away—and what avail two fathers?” + + Duka Leka girds him for the battle; + Weeping holds his wife his horse’s bridle:— + “Woe is me! woe, Duka!—voivode Leka! + Dost equip thy good steed for the battle? + Who shall care about the unpractised loved one?” + + ‘To thy brother, and to mine, I leave thee.’ + “Woe! O Duka, woe! thou voivode Leka! + Thee away—and what avail two brothers?” + + + +AJKUNA’S MARRIAGE. + + + NEVER, since the world had its beginning, + Never did a lovelier flow’ret blossom + Than the flow’ret we ourselves saw blooming + In the white court of the Bey Liubōvich. + High above the level Nevesin̄a {27} + Tower’d the fascinating maid Ajkuna; + She, the Bey Liubōvich’s lovely sister. + + She was lovely—nothing e’er was lovelier; + She was tall and slender as the pine tree; + White her cheeks, but tinged with rosy blushes, + As if morning’s beam had shone upon them, + Till that beam had reach’d its high meridian; + And her eyes, they were two precious jewels; + And her eyebrows, leeches from the ocean; + And her eyelids, they were wings of swallows; + Silken tufts the maiden’s flaxen ringlets; + And her sweet mouth was a sugar casket; + And her teeth were pearls array’d in order; + White her bosom, like two snowy dovelets; + And her voice was like the dovelet’s cooing; + And her smiles were like the glowing sunshine; + And the fame, the story of her beauty + Spread through Bosnia and through Herzgovina. {28} + Many a suitor on the maiden waited: + Two were unremitting in their service; + One, the old gray-headed Mustaph Aga— + He of Uraine, from the Novi fortress; {29a} + And the other, Suko of Ubdinia. {29b} + Both together met the self-same evening, + When they came to court the lovely maiden. + Thousand golden coins the old man proffer’d, + And, besides, a golden drinking vessel: + Round the vessel twined a mighty serpent, + From whose forehead shone so bright a diamond, + That at midnight, just as well as noonday, + By its light you might indulge your feastings. + Suko offered but a dozen ducats; + All the youth possessed, except his sabre— + His good sabre, and his steed so trusty. + Suko dwelt upon the country’s border, + As the falcon dwells among the breezes. + Then his brother thus address’d Ajkuna: + “Lo! Ajkuna, my beloved sister! + When my mother bore thee, she betrothed thee— + She betrothed thee to another lover. + Many a lover, maiden! now would woo thee; + But the best of all those wooing lovers + Are those twain to-day that seek thy presence. + One the venerable Mustaph Aga; + He that comes from Uraine out of Novi. + Countless are the old Mustapha’s treasures: + He will clothe thee all in silk and satin, + Will with honey and with sugar feed thee. + Suko of Ubdinia is the other: + But this Suko nothing more possesses + Than his trusty steed and his good sabre. + Now, then, choose, Ajkuna; choose, my sister; + Say to which of these I shall betrothe thee.” + + Thus his sister answer gave her brother: + “Thine shall be the choice, my brother! only; + Him alone I’ll wed whom thou wilt give me; + But I’d rather choose a youthful lover, + Howsoever small that youth’s possessions, + Than be wedded to old age, though wealthy. + Wealth—it is not gold—it is not silver; + Wealth—is to possess what most we cherish.” + Little did he listen to his sister, + For he gave the maid to Mustaph Aga; + To that old white-bearded man he gave her. + He with speed to his own court departed, + Brought the bridal guests, to lead the maiden + To his dwelling; and among them Suko + Lifted o’er the rest the bridal banner; + And they hasten’d to the maiden’s dwelling. + + At the dwelling of the lovely maiden, + Three white days the bridal crowd had linger’d,— + When the fourth day dawn’d, at early morning, + Forth they led the maiden from her dwelling; + And ere yet far off they had proceeded, + Ere they reach’d the flat and open country, + Turn’d the lovely maiden to the leader, + And into his ear these words she whisper’d: + “Tell me now, my golden ring, my brother! {32} + Who is chosen for the maiden’s bridegroom?” + Softly did the marriage-leader answer: + “Sweetest sister! fairest maid, Ajkuna! + Look to right, and look to left, about thee; + Dost thou see that old man in the distance, + Who like an effendi sits so proudly + In the farthest palanquin of scarlet, + Whose white beard o’ercovers all his bosom? + Lo! it is the aged Mustaph Aga; + He it is who’s chosen for thy bridegroom.” + + And the maiden look’d around the circle + And within her sad heart sighing deeply, + Once again she ask’d the marriage-leader: + “Who is he upon that white horse seated, + He who bears so high aloft the banner, + On whose chin that sable beard is growing?” + And the leader answers thus the maiden: + “He’s the hero Suko of Urbinia; + He who for thee with thy brother struggled,— + Struggled well indeed, but could not win thee.” + When the lovely maiden heard the leader, + On the black, black earth, anon she fainted: + All to raise her, hastening, gather round her, + And the last of all came Mustaph Aga; + None could lift her from the ground, till Suko + Sticks into the earth his waving banner, + Stretches out his right hand to the maiden. + See her, see her! from the ground upspringing, + Swift she vaults upon his steed behind him; + Rapidly he guides the courser onwards, + Swift they speed across the open desert, + Swift as ever star across the heavens. + + When the old man saw it, Mustaph Aga, + Loud he screamed with voice of troubled anger: + “Look to this, ye bidden to the wedding! + He, the robber! bears away my maiden: + See her, see her borne away for ever.” + But one answer met the old man’s wailings: + “Let the hawk bear off the quail in safety,— + Bear in safety—she was born to wed him; + Thou, retire thee to thy own white dwelling! + Blossoms not for thee so fair a maiden!” + + + +ILLNESS OF PRINCE MUJO. + + + To the baths the noble Turks are going; + From the baths are coming Turkish ladies. + Lo! before the Turks Prince Mujo marches; + Mahmoud Pasha’s bride before the ladies. + O how wond’rous fair is princely Mujo! + Fairer yet the bride of Mahmoud Pasha! + How magnificent their flowing dresses! + There the Tzar’s son, princely Mujo sicken’d, + Smitten by the bride of Mahmoud Pasha. + Ill he wended to his own white dwelling, + Threw him down upon his silken pillow. + All the ladies to the Prince’s mother, + All in order to the Tzaress crowded; + All, except the bride of Mahmoud Pasha. + + Then the Mother-tzaress thus address’d her: + “Noble woman! bride of Mahmoud Pasha! + Think’st thou then thyself of higher lineage? + In death-sickness is my Mujo lying: + All the ladies of the court have sought him: + Thou, and thou alone, of all, art absent!” + + When the bride of Mahmoud Pasha heard it, + Soon she girt her raiments—in her sleevelets + She prepared medicaments the choicest; + Rosy-sweets, wrapp’d up in golden vestments; + Yellow honey-comb in silver dishes, + And spring-cherries all preserv’d in honey; + Peaches with the earliest dew-drops gather’d; + Figs of Ocean, and the grapes of Mostar: {36a} + These she hid beneath her richest garments, + And she hasten’d to the Prince’s dwelling. + + All unask’d and unobserved she enter’d: + No salām {36b} she gave—but hurried forward + To the balcony, where, sick and sorrowing, + Lay Prince Mujo:—at his head she fix’d her; + With her gold-wrought kerchief from his forehead + Lo! she wiped the hot, the feverish dew-drop, + And thus spoke she to the Empress-mother: + + “Such a sickness as has seized the hero, + May it seize upon my only brother! + May it seize me, bride of Mahmoud Pasha! + ’Tis not sickness—it is love hath seized him!” + + When the princely Mujo heard this language, + From his slumb’ring bed he sprung swift-footed, + Hurried to the chamber door and closed it. + Three white days he kiss’d the bride unceasing; + When the fourth day dawn’d, did Mahmoud Pasha + Send a beautifully-written letter + To the Tzar; and this the letter’s language: + + “Sultan!” said he, “noble Tzar and master! + Lo! a golden duck its flight has taken, + And has wander’d, monarch! to thy dwelling. + Three white days with thee that duck hath lingered; + Give it back—as thou on God dependest.” + + Then the Tzar made answer to the Pasha: + “Nay! by God! my servant, Mahmoud Pasha! + I have caught a wild and untamed falcon; + What he seizes never will he loosen.” {38} + + + +FINDING OF THE HEAD OF LAZAR. + + + WHEN Lazār’s head, from his body sever’d, + Lay upon the battle-field Kossova, + ’Twas not found by any of the Servians: + But a Turkish boy—a young Turk found it. + ’Twas a Turk,—a Turk in slavery nurtured; + But he was the child of Servian mother; + And thus spake the Turkish boy who found it: + + “Hear, ye Moslems! hear, my Turkish brethren! + This was once the head of high-rank’d Servian; {39} + And, by God! it were a shame and scandal + If profaned by eagles or by ravens, + If ’twere trod upon by man or courser.” + So he took the head of th’ holy emp’ror, + Wrapt it carefully within his mantle, + Bore it to a neighbouring water-fountain, + And he threw it in the crystal water. + + There long time it lay, all unmolested: + Happy time! it lay for forty summers. + On Kossova lay the headless body; + But the eagles touch’d it not, nor ravens, + Nor the foot of man, nor hoof of courser; + Therefore let the God of peace be worshipp’d! + + Lo! a caravan of youthful travellers, + From the city white, the lovely Skoplja, {40a} + Leading on; both Grecians and Bulgarians + Travellers they, bound to Vidīn and Nissa: {40b} + And they make their halting on Kossova, + On Kossova take their meal as wonted; + And, when thirsty, ere the meal was over, + Lo! they light the splinters of the fir-tree; + Made a torch to light them as they wander, + Seeking all around a water fountain. + Lo! a strange and wond’rous fate awaits them! + Swift they speed them to the crystal water. + + Then exclaim’d one of the youthful travellers— + “Lo! the moon is on the waters shining!” + And another traveller thus retorted— + “Brother! it is not the moon that shineth.” + But the third is silent—no word utters— + Turns him to the east—the sun’s uprising— + Then he speaks, and prays to God the righteous; + Prays to God and to the holy Nicholas— + “Help me, God! and thou, O father Nicholas!” + And he sought again the fountain-water; + Drew the holy head from out the water— + Holy head of holy Servian monarch; + Threw it on the verdant turf, and pouring + Water, swiftly fill’d the travelling vessel. + + They had quench’d their thirst, and all were seated— + Seated round the head, and look’d about them. + On the verdant turf it lies no longer; + O’er the field the head is slowly moving— + Holy head seeks out the holy body; + Joins it, where that body lay untainted. + + When the dawning of the morn had broken, + To the aged priests the youths reported— + To the aged priests, the wond’rous story. + Lo! a crowd of priests are hastening thither— + Crowds of ancient priests—above three hundred, + And twelve high and dignified archbishops, + And four patriarchs, the most exalted: + Him of Pechki, {42a} and the Tzarigrader {42b} + Of Jerusalem, and Vassiljēnski. + All were habited in priestly vestments; + Camilanks their holy heads enshrouded; + In their hands they held old sacred writings— + And they pour’d their fervent prayers to heaven, + And performed their holiest solemn vigils + Through three days, and through three nights of darkness; + Nor for rest they stopp’d, nor for refreshment, + Nor for sleep, nor any interruption: + And they ask’d the holy dead, unceasing, + Where his grave should be—his corpse be buried; + In Opōvo, or in Krushedōli, + Or in Jāssak, or in Beshenōvi, + Or Racōvatz, or in Shisatōvatz, + Or in Jivski, or in Kurejdini, {43} + Or in distant Macedonia rather. + But Lazar will choose no foreign cloister; + He will lie among his own loved kindred, + In his own, his beauteous Ravanītza, {44} + On the mountain forest, broad Kushaja, + In the convent he himself erected; + In his days of life and youthful glory, + He erected for his soul’s salvation; + With his bread and with his gold he raised it; + Not with tears nor wealth from poor men wrested. + + + +JELITZA AND HER BROTHERS. + + + NINE fair sons possess’d a happy mother; + And the tenth, the loveliest and the latest, + Was Jelitza,—a beloved daughter. + They had grown together up to manhood, + Till the sons were ripe for bridal altars, + And the maid was ready for betrothing. + Many a lover ask’d the maid in marriage; + First a _Ban_; {45} a chieftain was the other; + And the third, a neighbour from her village. + So her mother for the neighbour pleaded; + For the far-off-dwelling ban her brothers. + Thus they urged it to their lovely sister: + “Go, we pray thee, our beloved sister, + With the ban across the distant waters: + Go! thy brothers oft will hasten to thee; + Every month of every year will seek thee; + Every week of every month will seek thee.” + So the maiden listened to her brothers, + With the ban she cross’d the distant waters: + But, behold! O melancholy marvel! + God sent down the plague, and all the brothers, + All the nine, were swept away, and lonely + Stood their miserable sonless mother. + + Three long years had pass’d away unheeded; + Often had Jelitza sighed in silence: + “Heaven of mercy! ’tis indeed a marvel! + Have I sinn’d against them?—that my brothers, + Spite of all their vows, come never near me.” + Then did her stepsisters scorn and jeer her: + “Cast away! thy brothers must despise thee! + Never have they come to greet their sister.” + + Bitter was the sorrow of Jelitza, + Bitter from the morning to the evening, + Till the God of heaven took pity on her, + And he summon’d two celestial angels: + “Hasten down to earth,” he said, “my angels! + To the white grave, where Jovān is sleeping,— + Young Jovan, the maiden’s youngest brother. + Breathe your spirit into him; and fashion + From the white grave-stone a steed to bear him: + From the mouldering earth his food prepare him: + Let him take his grave-shroud for a present! + Then equip and send him to his sister.” + + Swiftly hasten’d God’s celestial angels + To the white grave where Jovan was sleeping. + From the white grave-stone a steed they fashion’d; + Into his dead corpse they breathed their spirit; + From the ready earth the bread they moulded; + For a present his grave-shroud they folded; + And equipp’d, and bade him seek his sister. + + Swiftly rode Jovan to greet his sister. + Long before he had approach’d her dwelling, + Far, far off his sister saw and hail’d him; + Hastened to him—threw her on his bosom, + Loosed his vest, and stamp’d his cheeks with kisses. + Then she sobb’d with bitterness and anguish, + Then she wept, and thus address’d her brother: + “O! Jovan! to me—to me, a maiden, + Thou, and all my brothers, all, ye promised + Oft and oft to seek your distant sister: + Every month in every year to seek her,— + Every week in every month to seek her. + Three long years have sped away unheeded, + And ye have not sought me.”—For a moment + She was silent; and then said, “My brother! + Thou art deadly pale! why look so deadly + Pale, as if in death thou hadst been sleeping?” + But Jovan thus check’d his sister: “Silence, + Silence, sister! as in God thou trustest; + For a heavy sorrow has o’erta’en me. + When eight brothers had prepared their nuptials, + Eight stepsisters ready to espouse them, + Hardly was the marriage service ended + Ere we built us eight white dwellings, sister! + Therefore do I look so dark, Jelitza.” + + Three white days had pass’d away unheeded, + And the maid equipped her for a journey. + Many a costly present she provided + For her brothers and her bridal sisters: + For her brothers, fairest silken vestments; + For her bridal-sisters, rings and jewels. + But Jovan would fain detain her—“Go not, + Go not now, I pray thee—my Jelitza! + Wait until thy brothers come and greet thee.” + But she would not listen to her brother: + She prepared the costliest, fairest presents. + So the young Jovan began his journey, + And his sister travell’d patient by him. + + So as they approach’d their mother’s dwelling, + Near the house a tall white church was standing, + Young Jovan he whisper’d to his sister— + “Stop, I pray thee, my beloved sister! + Let me enter the white church an instant. + When my middle brother here was married, + Lo! I lost a golden ring, my sister! + Let me go an instant—I shall find it.” + + Jovan went—into his grave he glided— + And Jelitza stood—she stood impatient— + Wondering—wondering—but in vain she waited. + Then she left the spot to seek her brother. + Many and many a grave was in the church-yard + Newly made—Jovan was nowhere—Sighing, + On she hasten’d—hastened to the city, + Saw her mother’s dwelling, and press’d forward + Eager to that old white dwelling. + + Listen + To that cuckoo’s cry within the dwelling! + Lo! it was not the gray cuckoo’s crying— + ’Twas her aged, her gray-headed mother. + To the door Jelitza press’d—outstretching + Her white neck, she call’d—“Make ope, my mother! + Hasten to make ope the door, my mother!” + But her mother to her cries made answer: + “Plague of God! avaunt! my sons have perish’d— + All—all nine have perish’d—Wilt thou also + Take their aged mother!” Then Jelitza + Shriek’d, “O open—open, dearest mother! + I am not God’s plague—I am thy daughter, + Thine own daughter—thy Jelitza, mother!” + Then the mother push’d the door wide open, + And she scream’d aloud, and groan’d, and flung her + Old arms round her daughter—All was silent— + Stiff and dead they fell to earth together. + + + +HASSAN AGA’S WIFE’S LAMENT. + + + WHAT’S so white upon yon verdant forest? + Is it snow, or is it swans assembled? + Were it snow, it surely had been melted; + Were it swans, long since they had departed. + Lo! it is not swans, it is not snow there: + ’Tis the tent of Aga, Hassan Aga; + He is lying there severely wounded, + And his mother seeks him, and his sister; + But for very shame his wife is absent. + + When the misery of his wounds was soften’d, + Hassan thus his faithful wife commanded: + “In my house thou shalt abide no longer— + Thou shalt dwell no more among my kindred.” + When his wife had heard this gloomy language, + Stiff she stood, and full of bitter sorrow. + + When the horses, stamping, shook the portal, + Fled the faithful wife of Hassan Aga— + Fain would throw her from the castle window. + Anxious two beloved daughters follow’d, + Crying after her in tearful anguish— + “These are not our father Hassan’s coursers; + ’Tis our uncle Pintorōvich coming.” + + Then approached the wife of Hassan Aga— + Threw her arms, in misery, round her brother— + “See the sorrow, brother, of thy sister: + He would tear me from my helpless children.” + + He was silent—but from out his pocket, + Safely wrapp’d in silk of deepest scarlet, + Letters of divorce he drew, and bid her + Seek again her mother’s ancient dwelling— + Free to win and free to wed another. + + When she saw the letter of divorcement, + Kisses on her young boy’s forehead, kisses + On her girls’ red cheeks she press’d—the nursling— + For there was a nursling in the cradle— + Could she tear her, wretched, from her infant? + But her brother seized her hand, and led her— + Led her swiftly to the agile courser; + And he hastened with the sorrowing woman + To the ancient dwelling of her fathers. + + Short the time was—not seven days had glided— + Short indeed the time—and many a noble + Had our lady—though in widow’s garments— + Had our lady ask’d in holy marriage. + + And the noblest was Imoski’s Cadi; + And our lady, weeping, pray’d her brother: + “I exhort thee, on thy life exhort thee, + Give me not, oh, give me not in marriage! + For the sight of my poor orphan’d children + Sure would break the spirit of thy sister!” + + Little cared her brother for her sorrows; + He had sworn she should espouse the Cadi. + But his sister pray’d him thus unceasing: + “Send at least one letter, O my brother! + With this language to Imoski’s Cadi: + ‘Friendly greetings speeds the youthful woman; + But entreats thee, by these words entreats thee, + When the _Suates_ {55} shall conduct thee hither, + Thou a long and flowing veil wilt bring me, + That, in passing Hassan’s lonely dwelling, + I may hide me from my hapless orphans.’” + + Hardly had the Cadi read the letter, + Than he gather’d his Suates together, + Arm’d himself, and hasten’d t’wards the lady, + Home to bring her as his bridal treasure. + + Happily he reach’d the princely dwelling, + Happily were all returning homeward, + When toward Hassan’s house they were approaching, + Her two daughters saw her from the window, + Her two sons rush’d on her from the portal: + And they cried, “Come hither! O come hither! + Take thy night’s repast with thine own children!” + + Sorrowfully Hassan’s consort heard them; + To the Sarisvat she thus address’d her: + “Let the Suates stay, and let the horses + Tarry here at this beloved portal, + While I make a present to the children.” + + As they stopp’d at the beloved portal, + Presents gave she unto all the children. + To the boys, boots all with gold embroider’d; + To the girls, long and resplendent dresses; + And to the poor baby in the cradle, + For the time to come; a little garment. + + Near them sat their father, Hassan Aga, + And he call’d in sorrow to his children: + “Come to me, poor children! to your father; + For your mother’s breast is turn’d to iron, + Closed against you, harden’d ’gainst all pity.” + + When these words were heard by Hassan’s consort, + On the ground she fell, all pale and trembling, + Till her spirit burst her heavy bosom + At the glances of her orphan children. {57} + + + +JAKSHICH’S PARTITIONING. {58} + + + HARK! the moon is to the day-star calling: + “Morning star! say, where hast thou been wandering; + Tell me where thou hast so long been lingering; + Where hast white days three so wasted,—tell me?” + To the moon, anon, the day-star answer’d: + “I have wander’d, moon! and I have linger’d, + Lingered o’er Belgrad’s white towers, and wondered + At the marvellous things which I have witness’d: + How two brothers have their wealth partitioned, + Jakshich Dmitar and Jakshich Bogdana. + They had thus arranged the shares allotted, + Well their father’s substance had divided: + Dmitar took Wallachia {59a} for his portion, + Took Wallachia and entire Moldavia; {59b} + Banat also, to the river Danube. + Bogdan took the level plains of Sermia, + And the even country of the Sava; + Servia, too, as far as Ujitz’s fortress. + Dmitar took the lower fortress’d cities, + And Neboisha’s tower upon the Danube; + Bogdan took the upper fortress’d cities, + And the church-possessing town, Rujitza. + Then a strife arose about a trifle,— + Such a trifle; but a feud soon follow’d,— + A black courser and a grey-wing’d falcon! + Dmitar claims the steed, as elder brother + Claims the steed, and claims the grey-wing’d falcon. + Bogdan will not yield or horse or falcon. + When the morning of the morrow waken’d, + Dmitar flung him on the sable courser, + Took upon his hand the grey-wing’d falcon, + Went to hunt into the mountain-forest; + And he call’d his wife, fair Angelīa: + “Angelia! thou my faithful lady! + Kill with poison thou my brother Bogdan; + But if thou refuse to kill my brother, + Tarry thou in my white court no longer.” + + When the lady heard her lord’s commandments, + Down she sat all sorrowful and gloomy; + To herself she thought, and said in silence, + —“And shall I attempt it?—I, poor cuckoo! + Shall I kill my brother—kill with poison!— + ’Twere a monstrous crime before high heaven, + ’Twere a sin and shame before my people. + Great and small would point their fingers at me, + Saying,—‘That is the unhappy woman, + That is she who kill’d her husband’s brother!’ + But if I refuse to poison Bogdan, + Never will my husband come to bless me!” + Thus she thought, until a thought relieved her; + She descended to the castle’s cavern, + Took the consecrated cup of blessing. + ’Twas a cup of beaten gold her father + Had bestow’d upon his daughter’s nuptials; + Full of golden wine she fill’d the vessel, + And she bore it to her brother Bogdan. + Low to earth she bow’d herself before him, + And she kiss’d his hands and garments meekly. + + “Lo! I bring to thee this cup, my brother! + This gold cup, with golden wine o’erflowing. + Give me for my cup a horse and falcon.” + Bogdan heard the lady speak complacent, + And most cheerfully gave steed and falcon. + + Meanwhile through the day was Dmitar wandering + In the mountain-forest; nought he found there; + But chance brought him at the fall of evening + To a green lake far within the forest, + Where a golden-pinion’d duck was swimming. + Dmitar loosen’d then his grey-winged falcon, + Bade him seize the golden-pinion’d swimmer. + Faster than the hunter’s eye could follow, + Lo! the duck had seized the grey-wing’d falcon, + And against his sides had crush’d his pinion. + Soon as Dmitar Jakshich saw, he stripp’d him— + Stripp’d him swiftly of his hunting garments; + Speedily into the lake he plunged him, + And he bore his falcon from its waters. + Then with pitying voice he ask’d his falcon: + “Hast thou courage yet, my faithful falcon! + Now thy wings are from thy body riven?” + + Whispering, said the falcon to his master: + “I without my pinions nought resemble, + But a brother riven from a brother.” + Then the thought pierced through the breast of Dmitar, + That his wife was charged to kill his brother. + Swift he threw him on his mighty courser— + Swift he hurried to Bijōgrad’s {62} fortress, + Praying that his brother had not perished. + + He had hardly reach’d the bridge of Chekmel, {63} + When he spurr’d his raven steed so fiercely, + That the impetuous courser’s feet sank under, + And were crushed and broken on the pavement. + In his deep perplexity and trouble, + Dmitar took the saddle off his courser, + Flung it on the courser’s nether haunches, + And he fled alone to Belgrad’s fortress. + First he sought, impatient, for his lady— + “Angelia! thou my bride all faithful! + Tell me, tell me, hast thou kill’d my brother?” + Sweet indeed was Angelia’s answer: + “No! indeed, I have not killed thy brother; + To thy brother have I reconciled thee.” + + + +THE BUILDING OF SKADRA. {64a} + + + BROTHERS three combined to build a fortress, + Brothers three, the brothers Mrljavchēvich, + Kral {64b} Vukāshin was the eldest brother; + And the second was Uglēsha-Voivode; {64c} + And the third, the youngest brother, Goiko. + Pull three years they labour’d at the fortress, + Skadra’s fortress on Bojana’s river; + Full three years three hundred workmen labour’d. + Vain th’ attempt to fix the wall’s foundation. + Vainer still to elevate the fortress: + Whatsoe’er at eve had raised the workmen + Did the Vila raze ere dawn of morning. + + When the fourth year had begun its labours, + Lo! the Vila from the forest-mountain + Call’d—“Thou King Vukashin! vain thine efforts!— + Vain thine efforts—all thy treasures wasting! + Never, never wilt thou build the fortress, + If thou find not two same-titled beings, + If thou find not Stojan and Stojana: {65} + And these two—these two young twins so loving, + They must be immured in the foundation. + Thus alone will the foundations serve thee: + Thus alone can ye erect your fortress.” + + When Vukashin heard the Vila’s language, + Soon he call’d to Dēssimir, his servant: + “Listen, Dessimir, my trusty servant! + Thou hast been my trusty servant ever; + Thou shalt be my son from this day onward. + Fasten thou my coursers to my chariot: + Load it with six lasts of golden treasures: + Travel through the whole wide world, and bring me, + Bring me back those two same-titled beings: + Bring me back that pair of twins so loving: + Bring me hither Stojan and Stojana: + Steal them, if with gold thou canst not buy them. + Bring them here to Scadra or Bojana: + We’ll inter them in the wall’s foundation: + So the wall’s foundations will be strengthened: + So we shall build up our Scadra’s fortress.” + + Dessimir obey’d his master’s mandate; + Fasten’d, straight, the horses to the chariot; + Fill’d it with six lasts of golden treasures; + Through the whole wide world the trusty servant + Wander’d—asking for these same-named beings— + For the twins—for Stojan and Stojana: + Full three years he sought them,—sought them vainly: + Nowhere could he find these same-named beings: + Nowhere found he Stojan and Stojana. + Then he hasten’d homewards to his master; + Gave the king his horses and his chariot; + Gave him his six lasts of golden treasures: + “Here, my sov’reign, are thy steeds and chariot: + Here thou hast thy lasts of golden treasures: + Nowhere could I find those same-named beings: + Nowhere found I Stojan and Stojana.” + + When Vukashin had dismiss’d his servant, + Straight he call’d his builder, master Rado. + Rado call’d on his three hundred workmen; + And they built up Scadra on Bojana; + But, at even did the Vila raze it: + Vainly did they raise the wall’s foundation; + Vainly seek to build up Scadra’s fortress. + And the Vila, from the mountain-forest, + Cried, “Vukashin, listen! listen to me! + Thou dost spill thy wealth, and waste thy labour: + Vainly seek’st to fix the wall’s foundations; + Vainly seek’st to elevate the fortress. + Listen now to me! Ye are three brothers: + Each a faithful wife at home possesses:— + Her who comes to-morrow to Bojana, + Her who brings the rations to the workmen— + Her immure within the wall’s foundations:— + So shall the foundations fix them firmly: + So shalt thou erect Bojana’s fortress.” + + When the king Vukashin heard the Vila, + Both his brothers speedily he summon’d: + “Hear my words, now hear my words, my brothers! + From the forest-hill the Vila told me, + That we should no longer waste our treasures + In the vain attempt to raise the fortress + On a shifting, insecure foundation. + Said the Vila of the forest-mountain, + ‘Each of you a faithful wife possesses; + Each a faithful bride that keeps your dwellings: + Her who to the fortress comes to-morrow, + Her who brings their rations to the workmen— + Her immure within the wall’s foundations; + So will the foundations bear the fortress: + So Bojana’s fortress be erected.’ + Now then, brothers! in God’s holy presence + Let each swear to keep the awful secret; + Leave to chance whose fate ’twill be to-morrow + First to wend her way to Skadra’s river.” + And each brother swore, in God’s high presence, + From his wife to keep the awful secret. + + When the night had on the earth descended, + Each one hasten’d to his own white dwelling; + Each one shared the sweet repast of evening; + Each one sought his bed of quiet slumber. + + Lo! there happen’d then a wond’rous marvel! + First, Vukashin on his oath he trampled, + Whisp’ring to his wife the awful secret: + “Shelter thee! my faithful wife! be shelter’d! + Go not thou to-morrow to Bojana! + Bring not to the workmen food to-morrow! + Else, my fair! thy early life ’twill cost thee: + And beneath the walls they will immure thee!” + + On his oath, too, did Uglesha trample! + And he gave his wife this early warning: + “Be not thou betray’d, sweet love! to danger! + Go not thou to-morrow to Bojana! + Carry not their rations to the workmen! + Else in earliest youth thy friend might lose thee: + Thou might’st be immured in the foundation!” + + Faithful to his oath, young Goiko whisper’d + Not a breath to warn his lovely consort. + + When the morning dawn’d upon the morrow, + All the brothers roused them at the day-break, + And each sped, as wont, to the Bojana. + + Now, behold! two young and noble women; + They—half-sisters—they, the eldest sisters— + One is bringing up her snow-bleach’d linen, + Yet once more in summer sun to bleach it. + See! she comes on to the bleaching meadows; + There she stops—she comes not one step farther. + Lo! the second, with a red-clay pitcher; + Lo! she comes—she fills it at the streamlet; + There she talks with other women—lingers— + Yes! she lingers—comes not one step farther. + + Goiko’s youthful wife at home is tarrying, + For she has an infant in the cradle + Not a full moon old, the little nursling: + But the moment of repast approaches; + And her aged mother then bestirs her; + Fain would call the serving maid, and bid her + Take the noon-tide meal to the Bojana. + “Nay, not so!” said the young wife of Goiko; + “Stay, sit down in peace, I pray thee, mother! + Rock the little infant in his cradle: + I myself will bear the food to Scadra. + In the sight of God it were a scandal, + An affront and shame among all people, + If, of three, no one were found to bear it.” + + So she staid at home, the aged mother, + And she rock’d the nursling in the cradle. + Then arose the youthful wife of Goiko; + Gave them the repast, and bade them forward. + Call’d around her all the serving maidens; + When they reach’d Bojana’s flowing river, + They were seen by Mrljavchevich Goiko, + On his youthful wife, heart-rent, he threw him; + Flung his strong right arm around her body; + Kiss’d a thousand times her snowy forehead: + Burning tears stream’d swiftly from his eyelids, + As he spoke, in melancholy language: + + “O my wife, my own! my full heart’s-sorrow! + Didst thou never dream that thou must perish? + Why hast thou our little one abandoned? + Who will bathe our little one, thou absent? + Who will bare the breast to feed the nursling?” + More, and more, and more, he fain would utter; + But the king allow’d it not. Vukashin, + By her white hand seizes her, and summons, + Master Rado,—he the master-builder; + And he summons his three hundred workmen. + + But the young-espoused one smiles, and deems it + All a laughing jest,—no fear o’ercame her. + Gathering round her, the three hundred workmen + Pile the stones and pile the beams about her. + They have now immured her to the girdle. + + Higher rose the walls and beams, and higher; + Then the wretch first saw the fate prepared her, + And she shriek’d aloud in her despairing; + In her woe implored her husband’s brothers: + + “Can ye think of God?—have ye no pity? + Can ye thus immure me, young and healthful?” + But in vain, in vain were her entreaties; + And her brothers left her thus imploring. + + Shame and fear succeeded then to censure, + And she piteously invoked her husband: + “Can it, can it be, my lord and husband, + That so young, thou, reckless, would’st immure me? + Let us go and seek my aged mother: + Let us go—my mother she is wealthy: + She will buy a slave,—a man or woman, + To be buried in the walls’ foundations.” + + When the mother-wife—the wife and mother, + Found her earnest plaints and prayers neglected, + She address’d herself to Neimar {74} Rado: + “In God’s name, my brother, Neimar Rado, + Leave a window for this snowy bosom, + Let this snowy bosom heave it freely; + When my voiceless Jovo shall come near me, + When he comes, O let him drain my bosom!” + Rado bade the workmen all obey her, + Leave a window for that snowy bosom, + Let that snowy bosom heave it freely + When her voiceless Jovo shall come near her, + When he comes, he’ll drink from out her bosom. + + Once again she cried to Neimar Rado, + “Neimar Rado! in God’s name, my brother! + Leave for these mine eyes a little window, + That these eyes may see our own white dwelling, + When my Jovo shall be brought towards me, + When my Jovo shall be carried homeward.” + Rado bade the workmen all obey her, + Leave for those bright eyes a little window, + That her eyes may see her own white dwelling, + When they bring her infant Jovo to her, + When they take the infant Jovo homeward. + + So they built the heavy wall about her, + And then brought the infant in his cradle, + Which a long, long while his mother suckled. + Then her voice grew feeble—then was silent: + Still the stream flow’d forth and nursed the infant: + Full a year he hung upon her bosom; + Still the stream flow’d forth—and still it floweth. {75a} + Women, when the life-stream dries within them, + Thither come—the place retains its virtue— + Thither come, to still their crying infants. {75b} + + + +BATTLE OF KOSSOVA. + + + FROM Jerusalem, the holy city, + Lo! there flew a gray and royal falcon; + With him came a little flitting swallow. + No! it was no gray and royal falcon; + ’Twas Elias! ’twas the holy prophet; + And he brought no little flitting swallow, + But a letter from God’s holy mother + To the Emperor, from Polje Kossova; {76} + At the Emperor’s feet he drops the letter: + And the letter thus address’d the Emperor! + + “Tzar Lasar! thou tzar of noble lineage! + Tell me now, what kingdom hast thou chosen? + Wilt thou have heaven’s kingdom for thy portion, + Or an earthly kingdom? If an earthly, + Saddle thy good steed—and gird him tightly; + Let thy heroes buckle on their sabres, + Smite the Turkish legions like a tempest, + And these legions all will fly before thee. + But if thou wilt have heaven’s kingdom rather, + Speedily erect upon Kossova, + Speedily erect a church—of marble; + Not of marble, but of silk and scarlet; {77} + That the army, to its vespers going, + May from sin be purged—for death be ready: + For thy warriors all are doom’d to stumble; + Thou, too, prince, wilt perish with thy army!” + + When the Tzar Lasar had read the writing, + Many were his thoughts and long his musings. + “Lord my God! what—which shall be my portion, + Which my choice of these two proffer’d kingdoms? + Shall I choose heaven’s kingdom? shall I rather + Choose an earthly one?—for what is earthly + Is all fleeting, vain, and unsubstantial; + Heavenly things are lasting, firm, eternal.” + So the Tzar preferr’d a heavenly kingdom + Rather than an earthly.—On Kossova + Straight he builds a church, but not of marble; + Not of marble, but of silk and scarlet: + Then he calls the patriarch of Servia, + Calls around him all the twelve archbishops, + Bids them make the holy supper ready, + Purify the warriors from their errors, + And for death’s last conflict make them ready. + + So the warriors were prepared for battle, + And the Turkish hosts approach’d Kossova. + Bogdan leads hit valiant heroes forward, + With his sons—nine sons—the Jugovichi, + Sharp and keen—nine gray and noble falcons. + Each led on nine thousand Servian warriors; + And the aged Jug led twenty thousand. + + With the Turks began the bloody battle. + Seven pashas were overcome and scattered, + But the eighth pasha came onwards boldly. + And the aged Jug Bogdan has fallen— + Fallen with his sons—nine Jugovichi, + Nine gray noble falcons—all have fallen; + And the host has fallen with its leaders! + + Forward press the Mrljashevich warriors, + Ban Uglesha and the Voivode Goiko; + And with them the monarch Tzar Vukashin: + Each one leads full thirty thousand warriors. + With the Turks begins the bloody battle; + Eight pashas are soon o’erwhelm’d and perish, + But the ninth pasha comes boldly onwards— + Brothers Mrljashevich twain have fallen, + Ban Uglesha and the Voivode Goiko, + With a grievous wound sinks down Vukashin, + He is trodden on by Turkish horses, + And the warriors perish with their leaders. + + Now the ducal Stephan presses forward: + Strong and mighty is the ducal army; + Strong and powerful; sixty thousand warriors. + And the battle with the Turks is raging; + Nine pashas are soon o’erwhelm’d and perish; + But the tenth pasha comes boldly onward; + And the ducal Stephan is o’erpower’d, + And his warriors perish with their leader. + + Then Lasar, the noble lord of Servia; + Seeks Kossova with his mighty army; + Seven and seventy thousand Servian warriors. + How the infidels retire before him, + Dare not look upon his awful visage! + Now indeed begins the glorious battle. + He had triumph’d then,—had triumph’d proudly, + But that Vuk—the curse of God be on him! + He betray’d his father at Kossova. + + So the Turks the Servian monarch vanquish’d, + So Lasar he fell, the Tzar of Servia— + With Lasar fell all the Servian army. + But they have been honour’d, and are holy, + In the keeping of the God of heaven. + + + +THE HOLY NICHOLAS. + + + GOD of mercy! what a wond’rous wonder! + Such a wonder ne’er before was witness’d. + In Saint Paul’s—within the holy cloister, + Gather’d round a golden table, seated + In three ranks, the saints are all collected; + O’er them sits the thunderer Elias; {81a} + In the midst are Sava and Maria; + At the ends are Petka and Nedelia; + And their health the holy Nicholas pledges, + Pledges them their health to Jesus’ glory. {81b} + But behold, behold the saint!—he slumbers; + From his hand the cup of wine has fallen, + Fallen from it on the golden table: + Yet the wine’s unspilt,—the cup unbroken. + Then laugh’d out the thunderer Elias: + “O my brother! O thou holy Nicholas: + Often drank we cooling wine together; + But it was our duty not to slumber, + Not to drop the cup—And tell me, brother, + Why to-day does slumber’s power subdue thee?” + + Him thus answer’d Nicholas the holy: + “Jest not thus with me, thou sainted thunderer! + For I fell asleep, and dreamt three hundred, + Dreamt three hundred friars had embark’d them + In one vessel on the azure ocean; + Bearing offerings to the holy mountain, + Offerings,—golden wax, and snowy incense. + From the clouds there broke a furious tempest, + Lash’d the blue waves of the trembling ocean, + Scooping watery graves for all the friars. + Then I heard their blended voices call me, + ‘Help, O God! and help, O holy Nicholas! + Would that thou, where’er thou art, wert with us!’ + So I hurried down to help the suppliants— + So I saved the whole three hundred friars— + So I shipped them full of joy and courage; + Brought their offerings to the holy mountain, + Brought their golden wax, their snowy incense;— + And meanwhile I seem’d in gentle slumber, + And my cup fell on the golden table.” + + + +ERDELSKA’S BANITZA. + + + Lo! Erdelska’s lady {84a} reared a fir-tree, + And invoked the fir-tree—thus invok’d it: + “Grow thou, fir-tree, to the height of heaven! + To the green grass bend thy spreading branches; + Let me mount upon thy branches, fir-tree! + From those branches see the white-wall’d Buda, + And in Buda see the Budan Jovan. + Does he bear himself as once he bore him; + Does the feather wave upon his Kalpak; {84b} + Does his steed still bear his high head proudly?” + Thus she spoke and thought that no one heard her; + But the Ban of Transylvania heard her, + Even her lord, the Ban, and thus address’d her: + “Now, by heaven, thou Erdelskan Banitza; + Why is Buda fairer than Erdelska? + Why is Jovan nobler than thy husband?” + Thus replied the Erdelskan Banitza: + “Buda is not fairer than Erdelska, + Jovan is not nobler than my husband. + But my first, my earliest joy, was Jovan; + My first joy—a cup with flowers full laden, + Second joy—a cup with wine o’erflowing, + My third joy—a cup fill’d up with wormwood.” + + + +THE MOORISH KING’S DAUGHTER. + + + ONCE the mother of the princely Marko + Thus address’d her son:—“Now, Marko, tell me + Why hast thou so many a shrine erected? + Is it for thy sins in lowly penance? + Is it that thy wealth is overflowing?” + + Then the noble prince address’d his mother: + “Now, by Heav’n, I’ll tell thee! Erst I travell’d, + Aged mother! in the Moorish country: + To the water-cisterns sped me early, + To refresh my Sharaz:—round the cisterns + Were a dozen Moorish men assembled: + Through the Moors I fain would reach the water— + Reach the water to refresh my Sharaz: + But the dozen Moorish men opposed me, + And we there began a bloody struggle— + There my trusty club aloft I lifted: + One of the black Moors with earth I levell’d: + One I struck to earth,—eleven assail’d me: + Two I struck to earth,—and ten attack’d me: + Three I struck to earth,—and nine engaged me: + Four I struck to earth,—and twice four smote me: + Five I struck to earth, and strove with seven: + Six I struck to earth, and faced as many: + But the six o’erpower’d the weary Marko; + And they bound my hands, and bore me swiftly, + Bore me swiftly to the Moorish palace; + And the monarch sent me to a prison. + + “Seven long years I dwelt within my dungeon: + Nothing knew I of the summer’s dawning; + Nothing knew I of returning winter; + Nothing knew I, mother, but that snow-balls, + Snow-balls oft were thrown into my prison— + Thrown into my prison by the maidens: + So I knew it was the winter season. + Sometimes maidens flung me Basil-garlands, + So I knew it was the dawn of summer. + When the eighth year broke upon thy Marko, + It was not my dungeon that distress’d me: + ’Twas the sorrow of a Moorish maiden, + And she was the Moorish monarch’s daughter. + When the morn return’d, and when the ev’ning, + To my dungeon-window came she greeting:— + “Nay! thou shalt not perish in thy prison, + Thou poor Marko! give me but thy promise + That thou wilt espouse the Moorish maiden, + When the maiden has unlock’d thy prison— + When she has released thy faithful Sharaz. + I will bring a heap of golden ducats: + All the ducats thou canst wish for, Marko.” + + “When I heard her in my misery, mother! + From my head I took my cap, and laid it + On my knees,—and twice I swore upon it: + ‘By my faith! I’ll never leave thee, maiden! + By my faith! I never will betray thee! + E’en the golden sun is sometimes treach’rous— + Shines not out in winter as in summer— + But my word, my faith, shall be unchanging!” + + And the maiden drank the dear delusion: + She believed the oath that I had sworn her; + And when ev’ning’s fall the earth had shaded, + She flung ope the portals of my dungeon: + From my prison-house she brought me, mother, + Brought me to my proud and prancing Sharaz: + For herself she brought a steed yet nobler: + Both were loaded well with bags of ducats: + And she brought my bright and faithful sabre. + On our steeds we sprung, and swiftly sped us, + In the darkness, from that Moorish country. + + “But at last the twilight dawn’d upon us, + And I flung me on the ground to slumber: + And the Moorish maiden laid her near me: + And she threw her ebon arms around me: + But, as daylight came, and I, O mother! + Saw how black her face, her teeth how ivory, + Such a fright, and such a shuddering seized me, + That I drew the sabre from its scabbard, + Plunged it deeply through her silken girdle; + Through and through the bloody sabre smote her. + “Then I sprung upon the back of Sharaz, + And I heard the maiden’s lips address me: + ‘Thou in God my brother! thou, O Marko! + Leave me not!—thus wretched do not leave me!” + + “Therefore, mother! do I lowly penance: + Thus, my mother! have I gold o’erflowing: + Therefore seek I righteous deeds unceasing.” + + + +MARKO AND THE TURKS. + + + VISIR Amurath is gone a-hunting; + Hunting in the leafy mountain-forest: + With him hunt twelve warriors, Turkish heroes: + With the heroes hunts the noble Marko: + White days three they hunted in the mountain; + Nothing found they in the mountain-forest. + But, behold! while in the forest hunting, + They a lake, a green-faced lake, discover, + Where a flock of gold-winged ducks are swimming. + + There the proud Visir lets loose his falcon, + Bids him pounce upon a gold-wing’d swimmer; + But the falcon turned his glances upwards, + And he mounted to the clouds of heaven. + To the proud Visir said princely Marko: + “Visir Amurath! is it allowed me + To let loose my own, my favourite falcon? + He a gold-wing’d duck shall doubtless bring thee.” + And the Moslem swiftly answer’d Marko: + “’Tis allow’d thee, Marko! I allow thee.” + Then the princely Marko loosed his falcon; + To the clouds of heaven aloft he mounted; + Then he sprung upon the gold-wing’d swimmer— + Seized him—rose—and down they fell together. + When the bird of Amurath sees the struggle, + He becomes indignant with vexation: + ’T was of old his custom to play falsely— + For himself alone to gripe his booty: + So he pounces down on Marko’s falcon, + To deprive him of his well-earn’d trophy, + But the bird was valiant as his master; + Marko’s falcon has the mind of Marko: + And his gold-wing’d prey he will not yield him. + Sharply turns he round on Amurath’s falcon, + And he tears away his proudest feathers. + + Soon as the Visir observes the contest, + He is fill’d with sorrow and with anger; + Rushes on the falcon of Prince Marko, + Flings him fiercely ’gainst a verdant fir-tree, + And he breaks the falcon’s dexter pinion. + Marko’s noble falcon groans in suffering, + As the serpent hisses from the cavern. + Marko flies to help his favourite falcon, + Binds with tenderness the wounded pinion, + And with stifled rage the bird addresses: + “Woe for thee, and woe for me, my falcon! + I have left my Servians—I have hunted + With the Turks—and all these wrongs have suffer’d.” + Then the hunters in their course pass’d by him— + Pass’d him by, and left him sad and lonely. + There his falcon’s wounds to heal he tarried— + Tarried long amidst the mountain-forests. + When the wounds were heal’d, he sprung on Sharaz, + Spurr’d his steed, and gallop’d o’er the mountain; + Sped as swiftly as the mountain Vila. + Soon he leaves the mountain far behind him: + Reaching then the gloomy mountain’s borders; + On the plain beneath him, with his heroes— + Turkish heroes twelve, the princely Marko + The Visir descries, who looks around him, + Sees the princely Marko in the distance, + And thus calls upon his twelve companions: + + “Ye, my children! ye, twelve Turkish heroes! + See ye yonder mountain-mist approaching, + From the darksome mountain travelling hither? + In that mountain-mist is princely Marko; + Lo! how fiercely urges he his courser! + God defend us now from every evil!” + Soon the princely Marko reach’d the Moslems, + From the sheath he drew his trusty sabre, + Drove that arm’d Visir and all his warriors— + Drove them from him—o’er the desert scatters, + As the vulture drives a flock of sparrows. + Marko soon overtakes the flying warriors, + From his neck their chieftain’s head he sever’d; + And the dozen youths his trusty sabre + Into four-and-twenty halves divided. + + Then he stood a while in doubtful musing; + Should he go to Jedren {95a} to the sultan— + Should he rather seek his home at Prilip? {95b} + After all his musings he determined: + “Better is it that I seek the sultan; + And let Marko tell the deeds of Marko— + Not the foes of Marko—not the Moslems!” + + So the hero Marko speeds to Jedren. + To the sultan in divan he enter’d; + And his fiery eyes look’d fiercely round him, + As the hungry wolves around the forest; + Look’d as fiercely as if charged with lightnings. + And the sultan ask’d the hero Marko, + “Tell me what hath vex’d thee, princely Marko? + Say in what the sultan has annoy’d thee? + Tell me what misfortune has disturb’d thee?” + Then the princely Marko tells the sultan + What with Amurath visir had happened; + And the sultan feign’d a merry laughter: + And with agitated brow responded, + “Blessings be upon thee, princely Marko! + Hadst thou not behaved thee thus, my Marko, + Son of mine I would no longer call thee. + Any Turk may get a visir’s title, + But there is no hero like my Marko.” + + From his silken vestments then the sultan + From his purse drew out a thousand ducats, + Threw the golden ducats to the hero: + “Take these ducats from thy master, Marko, + Drink to my prosperity, thou hero!” + + Marko took the purse of gold in silence, + Walk’d away in silence from the palace; + ’T was no love of Marko—no intention + That the hero’s lips should pledge the sultan: + ’T was that he should quit the monarch’s presence, + For his fearful wrath had been awaken’d. + + + +DEATH OF KRALEVICH MARKO. + + + AT the dawn of day the noble Marko + Rode in sunlight on the Sabbath morning; + By the sea, along the Urvinian mountain, + Towards the mountain-top as he ascended; + Suddenly his trusty Sharaz stumbled; + Sharaz stumbled, and began to weep there. + Sad it fell upon the heart of Marko, + And he thus address’d his favourite Sharaz— + “Ah! my faithful friend, my trusty Sharaz, + We have dwelt a hundred years and sixty, + Dwelt together as beloved companions, + And till now have never, never stumbled. + Thou hast stumbled now, my trusty Sharaz, + Thou hast stumbled, and thine eyes are weeping. + God alone can tell what fate awaits me;— + One of us is surely doom’d to perish, + And my life or thine is now in peril.” + + While the prince apostrophized his Sharaz, + Lo! the Vila from Urvina’s mountain + Call’d aloud unto the princely Marko: + “Brother, listen—listen, princely Marko! + Know’st thou why thy faithful Sharaz stumbled? + Know that he was mourning for his master; + Know that ye ere long must be divided.” + Marko answer’d thus the mountain Vila: + “Thou white Vila, let a curse be on thee! {98} + Now shall I be parted from my Sharaz, + Who through many a land and town hath borne me, + From the sun’s uprising to his setting. + Better steed ne’er trod the earth than Sharaz, + As than Marko never better hero. + While my head stays firmly on my shoulders, + Never will I from my steed be sever’d.” + + The white Vila answer’d princely Marko: + “Brother, listen!—listen, princely Marko! + Force will never tear thy Sharaz from thee; + Vainly ’gainst thee would the arm of hero + Be uplifted—not the shining sabre, + Not the battle-club—nor lance of warrior. + Earth no hero holds who can alarm thee;— + But the brave must die—and thou art mortal; + God will smite thee—God, the old blood-shedder. {99} + But if thou would’st doubt the mountain Vila, + Hasten to the summit of the mountain, + Look to right and look to left around thee: + Thou wilt see two tall and slender fir-trees, + Fir-trees towering o’er the mountain forests; + They with verdant leaves are cover’d over; + And between the fir-trees is a fountain. + Look! and afterwards rein back thy Sharaz, + Then alight, and bind him to the fir-tree: + Bend thee down,—and look into the fountain; + Look—as if the fountain were a mirror; + Look, and thou shalt see when death awaits thee.” + + Marko did, as counsell’d by the Vila. + When he came upon the mountain summit, + To the right and left he look’d around him; + Then he saw two tall and slender fir-trees, + Fir-trees towering high above the forest, + Covered all with verdant leaves and branches. + Then he rein’d his faithful Sharaz backwards, + Then dismounted—tied him to the fir-tree; + Bent him down, and looked into the fountain, + Saw his face upon the water mirror’d, + Saw his death-day written on the water. + + Tears rush’d down the visage of the hero: + “O thou faithless world!—thou lovely flow’ret! + Thou wert lovely—a short pilgrim’s journey— + Short—though I have seen three centuries over— + And ’tis time that I should end my journey!” + + Then he drew his sharp and shining sabre, + Drew it forth—and loosed the sabre-girdle; + And he hasten’d to his faithful Sharaz: + With one stroke he cleft his head asunder, + That he never should by Turk be mounted, + Never be disgraced in Turkish service, + Water draw, or drag a Moslem’s Jugum. {101} + Soon as he had cleaved his head asunder, + Graved a grave he for his faithful Sharaz, + Nobler grave than that which held his brother. + Then he broke in four his trusty sabre, + That it might not be a Moslem’s portion, + That it might not be a Moslem’s triumph, + That it might not be a wreck of Marko, + Which the curse of Christendom should follow. + Soon as he in four had broke his sabre, + Next he broke his trusty lance in seven; + Threw the fragments to the fir-trees’ branches. + Then he took his club, so terror-striking, + In his strong right hand, and swiftly flung it, + Flung it from the mountain of Urvina, + Far into the azure, gloomy ocean. + To his club thus spake the hero Marko: + “When my club returneth from the ocean, + Shall a hero come to equal Marko.” + + When he thus had scatter’d all his weapons, + From his breast he drew a golden tablet; + From his pocket drew unwritten paper, + And the princely Marko thus inscribed it: + “He who visits the Urvina mountain, + He who seeks the fountain ’neath the fir-trees, + And there finds the hero Marko’s body, + Let him know that Marko is departed. + When he died, he had three well-fill’d purses;— + How well fill’d?—well fill’d with golden ducats. + One shall be his portion, and my blessing, + Who shall dig a grave for Marko’s body: + Let the second be the church’s portion; + Let the third be given to blind and maim’d ones, + That the blind through earth in peace may wander, + And with hymns laud Marko’s deeds of glory.” + + And when Marko had inscribed the letter, + Lo! he stuck it on the fir-tree’s branches, + That it might be seen by passing travellers. + In the fount he threw his golden tablets, + Doff’d his vest of green, and spread it calmly + On the grass, beneath a sheltering fir-tree; + Cross’d him, and lay down upon his garment; + O’er his eyes he drew his samur-kalpak, {103} + Laid him down,—yes! laid him down for ever. + + By the fountain lay the clay-cold Marko + Day and night;—a long, long week he lay there. + Many travellers pass’d, and saw the hero,— + Saw him lying by the public path-way; + And while passing, said, “The hero slumbers!” + Then they kept a more than common distance, + Fearing that they might disturb the hero. + + Fortune is the leader of misfortune, + As misfortune oft is fortune’s leader: + ’T was a happy fortune, then, that Vaso, + He the _Iguman_ {104a} of the _Holy Mountain_, {104b} + From the white church bound of Vilindari, + With his scholar, with the young Isaja, + Thither came and saw the sleeping Marko. + His right hand then beckon’d to his scholar: + “O, my son, be cautious, lest thou wake him! + When disturb’d he rages full of fury, + And without remorse he might destroy us.” + Then he look’d in anxious terror round him, + Saw the letter on the fir-tree branches; + Read it from a distance;—as he trembled, + Read that Marko had in death departed. + From his horse the astonish’d monk alighted, + Seized the hand of Marko;—Marko moved not! + Long he had been dead,—long since departed! + + Tears rush’d swiftly from the eye of Vaso, + Marko’s fate fill’d all his thoughts with sorrow. + From the girdle then he took the purses, + Which he hid beneath his own white girdle: + Round and round inquired Iguman Vaso + Where he should entomb the hero Marko; {105} + Round and round he look’d in fond inquiry. + On his horse he flung the hero’s body, + Brought it safely to the ocean’s borders, + Thence he shipped it for the Holy Mountain; + Near the white church, Vilindari, landed, + To that white church he convey’d the body; + And, as wont, upon the hero’s body + Funeral hymns were sung; and he was buried + In the white church aisle, the very centre,— + There the old man placed the hero’s body. + But no monument he raised above him, + Lest when foes should mark the hero’s grave-stone, + Theirs should be the joy, and theirs the triumph. {106} + + + + +LYRICS, SONGS, AND OCCASIONAL POEMS. + + +THE CURSE. + + + I HEARD a sprightly swallow say + To a gray cuckoo t’ other day,— + “Thou art a happy bird indeed; + Thou dost not in the chimney breed, + Thou dost not hear the eternal jarring, + Of sisters and step-sisters warring; + Their woes and grievances rehearsing, + Cursing themselves, and others cursing. + A young step-sister once I saw, + Foul language at the elder throw; + “Perdition’s daughter! hence depart; + Thou hast no fruit beneath thy heart.” + And thus the elder one replied: + “Curse thy perverseness and thy pride! + Mijailo is a son of thine; + Now thou shalt bring forth daughters nine, + And madness shall their portion be. + Thy son shall cross the parting sea; + He never shall return to thee, + But, bathed in blood and wounded, pine!” + + And thus she cursed;—the curse was true; + Her sister’s nine fair daughters grew; + And madness seized them,—seized them all: + Mijailo,—far away, and wounded, + By solitude and woe surrounded, + I heard him on his mother call: + “O mother! mother! send me now + A bandage of that snowy linen + Which you so thoughtlessly were spinning, + When curses wander’d to and fro. + In your rage you wove it,—now remove it; + Tear it for bandages, as you tore + Love and affection all asunder. + Where it was bleach’d thy son lies under; + With it cover his hot wounds o’er. + Rend it, mother! and send it, mother! + May it thy suffering son restore!” + + + +FAREWELL. {112} + + + AGAINST white Buda’s walls, a vine + Doth its white branches fondly twine: + O, no! it was no vine-tree there; + It was a fond, a faithful pair, + Bound each to each in earliest vow— + And, O! they must be severed now! + And these their farewell words:—“We part— + Break from my bosom—break—my heart! + Go to a garden—go, and see, + Some rose-branch blushing on the tree; + And from that branch a rose-flower tear, + Then place it on thy bosom bare; + And as its leavelets fade and pine, + So fades my sinking heart in thine.” + And thus the other spoke: “My love! + A few short paces backward move, + And to the verdant forest go; + There’s a fresh water-fount below; + And in the fount a marble stone, + Which a gold cup reposes on; + And in the cup a ball of snow— + Love! take that ball of snow to rest + Upon thine heart within thy breast. + And as it melts unnoticed there, + So melts my heart in thine, my dear!” + + + +THE VIOLET. + + + How captivating is to me, + Sweet flower! thine own young modesty! + Though did I pluck thee from thy stem, + There’s none would wear thy purple gem. + I thought, perchance, that Ali Bey— + But he is proud and lofty—nay! + He would not prize thee—would not wear + A flower so feeble though so fair: + His turban for its decorations + Had full blown roses and carnations. + + + +SMILIA. {116} + + + SWEET Smilia-flowers did Smilia pull, + Her sleevelets and her bosom full; + By the cool stream she gather’d them, + And twined her many a diadem— + A diadem of flowery-wreaths;— + One round her brows its fragrance breathes; + One to her bosom-friend she throws; + The other where the streamlet flows + She flings, and says in gentlest tone— + “Swim on, thou odorous wreath! swim on, + Swim to my Juris’ home, and there + O whisper in his mother’s ear: + ‘Say, wilt thou not thy Juris wed?— + Then give him not a widow’s bed; + But some sweet maiden, young and fair.’” + + + +HARVEST SONG. + + + TAKE hold of your reeds, youths and maidens! and see + Who the kissers and kiss’d of the reapers shall be. + Take hold of your reeds, till the secret be told, + If the old shall kiss young, and the young shall kiss old. + Take hold of your reeds, youths and maidens! and see + What fortune and chance to the drawers decree: + And if any refuse, may God smite them—may they + Be cursed by Paraskev, the saint of to-day! + Now loosen your hands—now loosen, and see + Who the kissers and kiss’d of the reapers shall be. {117} + + + +MAIDEN’S PRAYER. + + + BEAUTY’S maiden thus invoked the Heavens: + “Send me down a whirlwind! let it scatter + Yonder stony tower—its halls lay open! + Let me look on Gertshich Manoīlo. + If the otter on his knee is playing— + If the falcon sits upon his shoulder— + If the rose is blooming on his kalpak.” {118} + + What she pray’d for speedily was granted: + And a storm-wind came across the ocean; + And the stony tower fell down before it: + And she look’d on Gertshich Manoīlo: + Saw the otter on his knees disporting: + Saw the falcon sitting on his shoulder: + Saw the rose upon his kalpak blooming. + + + +KISSES. + + + WHAT’S the time of night, my dear? + For my maiden said, “I’ll come”— + Said “I’ll come,”—but is not here: + And ’tis now the midnight’s gloom. + Lone and silent home I turn’d; + But upon the bridge I met her— + Kiss’d her:—How my hot lips burned!— + How forget it—how forget her! + In one kiss full ten I drew: + And upon my lips there grew, + From that hour, a honey-dew, + As if sugar were my meat, + And my drink metheglin sweet. + + + +HARVEST SONG. + + + LORD and master! let us homewards, let us homewards haste: + Far, far distant are our dwellings—far across the waste. {120a} + + Some have aged mothers threat’ning—“Ne’er allow another:” + Some male-children {120b} in the cradle, crying for their mother: + Some impatient lovers chiding;—dearer they than brother. + + + +CURSE. + + + THE maiden cursed her raven eyes, + She cursed them for their treacheries. + “Be blinded now, to you if heaven + All that is visible has given! + If ye see all, ye traitors, say + Why saw ye not my love to day:— + He pass’d my door,—but, truants, ye + Gave not the gentlest hint to me. + He had a nosegay in his hand,— + He wore a gold embroider’d band,— + ’Twas made by other hands than mine! + Upon it wreathing branches twine: + May every branch embroidered there, + A miserable heart-wound bear;— + Upon each branch, may every leaf + Bring and betoken toil and grief.” + + + +SALUTATION OF THE MORNING STAR. + + + Lo! the maiden greets the day-star! “Sister! + Sister star of morning! well I greet thee; + Thou dost watch the world from thine uprising + To thy sinking hour. In Herzgovina, {122} + Tell me didst thou see the princely Stephan? + Tell me, was his snowy palace open, + Were his steeds caparisoned, and ready; + And was he equipp’d his bride to visit?” + + Gently then the morning star responded: + “Lovely sister! beautiful young maiden, + True, I watch the world from my uprising + To my setting;—and in Herzgovina + Saw the palace of the princely Stephan; + And that snowy palace was wide open, + And his horse was saddled, and was ready, + And he was equipp’d his bride to visit: + But not thee—not thee—another maiden; + False tongues three have whisper’d evil of thee; + One has said—thine origin is lowly; + One, that thou art treacherous as a serpent; + And the third, that thou art dull and dreamy.” + + Then the maiden pour’d her imprecations: + “He who said my origin was lowly, + Never let a child of love be born him; + He who called me treacherous as a serpent, + Round his heart, O! let a serpent wreathe it; + Through hot summers in his hair be tangled, + Through cold winters in his bosom nestle; + He who dar’d to call me dull and dreamy, + Nine long years may he be worn by sickness, + And no sleep renew his strength to bear it.” + + + +THE KNITTER. + + + THE maiden sat upon the hill, + Upon the hill and far away, + Her fingers wove a silken cord, + And thus I heard the maiden say: + “O with what joy, what ready will, + If some fond youth, some youth adored, + Might wear thee, should I weave thee now! + The finest gold I’d interblend, + The richest pearls as white as snow. + But if I knew, my silken friend, + That an old man should wear thee, I + The coarsest worsted would inweave, + Thy finest silk for dog-grass leave, + And all thy knots with nettles tie.” + + + +ROYAL CONVERSE. + + + THE king from the queen an answer craves; + “How shall we now employ our slaves?” + The maidens in fine embroidery, + The widows shall spin flax-yarn for me, + And the men shall dig in the fields for thee. + + The king from the queen an answer craves; + “How shall we, lady, feed our slaves?” + The maidens shall have the honey-comb sweet, + The widows shall feed on the finest wheat, + And the men of maize-meal bread shall eat. + + The king from the queen an answer craves; + “Where for the night shall rest our slaves?” + The maidens shall sleep in the chambers high, + The widows on mattress’d beds shall lie, + And the men on nettles under the sky. + + + +ROSA. + + + UNDER roses slept the maiden Rosa, + And a rose fell down and waken’d Rosa; + To the flower-rose, said the maiden Rosa— + “Rose of mine! O fall not on the maiden, + I am in no tune of soul to love thee, + For a heavy grief o’erwhelms my spirit; + Youth would have me,—but old age hath won me. + An old bridegroom is a worthless maple; + When the wind is up it faints and trembles; + When the rain descends, decay decays it: + But a young bride, is a roselet budding; + When the wind is up, its fair leaves open, + When the rain descends, it shines in beauty,— + When the sun comes forth, it smiles and glories.” + + + +THE MAIDEN AND THE SUN. + + + A MAIDEN proudly thus the sun accosted: + “Sun! I am fairer far than thou,—far fairer; + Fairer than is thy sister {127a} or thy brethren,— + Fairer than yon bright moon at midnight shining, + Fairer than yon gay star in heav’n’s arch twinkling, + That star, all other stars preceding proudly, + As walks before his sheep the careful shepherd.” + The sun complain’d to God of such an insult: + “What shall be done with this presumptuous maiden?” + And to the sun God gave a speedy answer: + “Thou glorious Sun! thou my beloved daughter! {127b} + Be joyous yet! say, why art thou dejected? + Wilt thou reward the maiden for her folly— + Shine on, and burn the maiden’s snowy forehead. + But I a gloomier dowry yet will give her; + Evil to her shall be her husband’s brother; + Evil to her shall be her husband’s father. + Then shall she think upon the affront she gave thee.” + + + +THE MAIDEN’S WISH. + + + IF I had, ah Laso! + All the emp’ror’s treasures, + Well I know, ah Laso! + What with these I’d purchase; + I would buy, ah Laso! + Garden on the Sava; + Well I know, ah Laso! + What my hands would plant there; + I would plant, ah Laso! + Hyacinths, carnations. + If I had, ah Laso! + All the emp’ror’s treasures, + Well I know, ah Laso! + What with these I’d purchase; + I would buy, ah Laso! + I would purchase Laso, + He should be, ah Laso! + Gardener in my garden. + + + +THE FALCON. + + + THE falcon soars both far and high, + He spreads his pinions in the sky; + Then from his cloudy heights he lowers, + And seats him on the city’s towers: + He sees a laughing girl of grace, + In crystal water bathe her face; + And looks with open, eager eye + Upon her neck of ivory: + White as the snow upon the mountain; + And there he hears a youth recounting + His tale of love.—“Now bend thy head + Upon thy snowy neck,” he said; + “Its whiteness is too bright for me: + And ’neath it sorrowing heart may be.” + + + +HEROES SERVED. + + + UPON the silent Danube’s shore, + When ev’ning wastes, ’tis sweet to see + (Their golden wine cups flowing o’er); + Our heroes in their revelry. + + A youthful beauty pours the wine, + And each will pledge a cup to her; + And each of charms that seem divine, + Would fain become a worshiper. + + “Nay! heroes, nay!” the virgin cried, + “My service—not my love—I give: + For one alone—for none beside: + For one alone I love and live.” + + + +YOUTH AND AGE. + + + Lo! the maid her rosy cheeks is laving. + Listen! while she bathes her snowy forehead: + “Forehead! if I thought an old man’s kisses + Would be stamp’d upon thee, I would hasten + To the forest, and would gather wormwood: + Into boiling water press its bitters: + With it steep my forehead ev’ry morning, + That the old man’s kiss might taste of wormwood. + But, if some fair youth should come to kiss me, + I would hurry to the verdant garden: + I would gather all its sweetest roses, + Would condense their fragrance,—and at morning, + Every morning, would perfume my forehead: + So the youth’s sweet kiss would breathe of fragrance, + And his heart be gladden’d with the odour. + Better dwell with youth upon the mountains, + Than with age in luxury’s richest palace: + Better sleep with youth on naked granite, + Than with eld on silks howe’er voluptuous!” + + + +CHOICE. + + + IN my court the morning’s twilight found me; + At the chase the early sun while rising, + I upon the mountain—and behind it, + On that mountain, ’neath a dark-green pine tree, + Lo! I saw a lovely maiden sleeping; + On a clover-sheaf her head was pillow’d; + On her bosom lay two snowy dovelets; + In her lap there was a dappled fawnkin. + There I tarried till the fall of ev’ning: + Bound my steed at night around the pine-tree: + Bound my falcon to the pine-tree branches: + Gave the sheaf of clover to my courser: + Gave the two white dovelets to my falcon: + Gave the dappled fawn to my good greyhound: + And, for me,—I took the lovely maiden. + + + +ANXIETY. + + + I FAIN would sing—but will be silent now, + For pain is sitting on my lover’s brow; + And he would hear me—and, though silent, deem + I pleased myself, but little thought of him, + While of nought else I think; to him I give + My spirit—and for him alone I live: + Bear him within my heart, as mothers bear + The last and youngest object of their care. + + + +INQUIRY. + + + SAY, heavenly spirit! kindly say, + Where tarries now this youth of mine; + Say, is he speeding on his way, + Or doth he linger, drinking wine? + + If he be speeding on,—elated + With joy and gladness let him be: + If quaffing wine,—in quiet seated, + O! his be peace and gaiety! + + But if he love another maiden, + I wish him nought but sorrow:—No! + Then be his heart with anguish laden! + And let Heaven smite his path with woe! + + + +FROZEN HEART. + + + THICK fell the snow upon St. George’s day; + The little birds all left their cloudy bed; + The maiden wander’d bare-foot on her way; + Her brother bore her sandals, and he said: + “O sister mine! cold, cold thy feet must be.” + “No! not my feet, sweet brother! not my feet— + But my poor heart is cold with misery. + There’s nought to chill me in the snowy sleet: + My mother—’tis my mother who hath chill’d me, + Bound me to one who with disgust hath fill’d me.” + + + +UNION IN DEATH. + + + FONDLY lov’d a youth and youthful maiden, + And they wash’d them in the self-same water, + And they dried them with the self-same linen: + Full a year had pass’d, and no one knew it: + Yet another year—’twas all discover’d, + And the father heard it, and the mother; + But the mother check’d their growing fondness, + Banish’d love, and exiled them for ever. + + To the stars he look’d, and bade them tell her: + “Die, sweet maiden! on the week’s last even; + Early will I die on Sabbath morning.” + As the stars foretold th’ event, it happen’d: + On the eve of Saturday the maiden + Died—and died the youth on Sunday morning: + And they were, fond pair, together buried; + And their hands were intertwined together: + In those hands they placed the greenest apples: + When, behold! ere many moons had shone there, + From the grave sprung up a verdant pine-tree, + And a fragrant crimson rose-tree follow’d: + Round the pine the rose-tree fondly twined it, + As around the straw the silk clings closely. + + + +DEER AND VILA. + + + A YOUNG deer tracked his way through the green forest, + One lonely day—another came in sadness; + And the third dawn’d, and brought him sighs and sorrow: + Then he address’d him to the forest Vila: + “Young deer!” she said, “thou wild one of the forest, + Now tell me what great sorrow has oppress’d thee? + Why wanderest thou thus in the forest lonely: + Lonely one day,—another day in sadness,— + And the third day with sighs and anguish groaning?” + + And thus the young deer to the Vila answer’d: + “O thou sweet sister! Vila of the forest! + Me has indeed a heavy grief befallen; + For I had once a fawn, mine own beloved, + And one sad day she sought the running water: + She enter’d it, but came not back to bless me: + Then tell me, had she lost her way and wander’d? + Was she pursued and captured by the huntsman? + Or has she left me?—has she wholly left me?— + Loving some other deer—and I forgotten. + O! if she has but lost her way, and wanders, + Teach her to find it—bring her back to love me. + O! if she has been captured by the huntsman, + Then may a fate as sad as mine await him. + But if she has forsaken me—if, faithless, + She loves another deer—and I forgotten— + Then may the huntsman speedily o’ertake her.” + + + +VIRGIN AND WIDOW. + + + OVER Sarajevo flies a falcon, + Looking round for cooling shade to cool him. + Then he finds a pine on Sarejevo; + Under it a well of sparkling water; + By the water, Hyacinth, the widow, + And the Rose, the young, unmarried virgin. + He look’d down—the falcon—and bethought him: + “Shall I kiss grave Hyacinth, the widow; + Or the Rose, the young, unmarried virgin?” + Thinking thus—at last the bird determined— + And he whisper’d to himself sedately, + “Gold—though long employ’d, is far, far better + Than the finest silver freshly melted.” + So he kiss’d—kiss’d Hyacinth, the widow. + Very wroth wax’d then young Rose, the virgin: + “Sarejevo! let a ban be on thee! + Cursed be thy strange and evil customs! + For thy youths they love the bygone widows, + And thy aged men the untried virgins.” + + + +NIGHTINGALES. + + + ALL the night two nightingales were singing + At the window of th’ affianced maiden; + And th’ affianced maiden thus addressed them: + “Tell me, ye two nightingales, O tell me! + Are ye brothers? are ye brothers’ children?” + + Thus the nightingales made speedy answer: + “Brothers are we not, nor brother’s children: + We are friends—friends of the verdant forest. + Once we had another friend—another— + But that friend is lost to us for ever. + We have heard that nuptial bliss awaits him; + And we came the youthful bride to look on, + And to offer her a golden spindle, + With the flax of Egypt bound around it.” + + + +THE RING. + + + THE streamlet ripples through the mead, beneath the maple tree; + There came a maid that stream to draw—a lovely maid was she; + From the white walls of old Belgrade that maid came smilingly. + Young Mirko saw, and offer’d her a golden fruit, and said: + “O take this apple, damsel fair! and be mine own sweet maid!” + She took the apple—flung it back—and said, in angry tone, + “Neither thine apple, Sir! nor thee—presumptuous boy, be gone!” + + The streamlet ripples through the mead, beneath the maple tree; + There came a maid that stream to draw—a lovely maid was she; + From the white walls of old Belgrade that maid came smilingly. + Young Mirko saw, and proffer’d her a golden brooch, and said: + “O take this brooch, thou damsel fair! and be mine own sweet maid!” + She took the brooch, and flung it back, and said, in peevish tone, + “I’ll neither have thee nor thy brooch—presumptuous boy, be gone!” + + The streamlet ripples through the mead, beneath the maple tree; + There came a maid that stream to draw—the loveliest maid was she; + From the white walls of old Belgrade that maid came smilingly. + Young Mirko saw, and proffer’d her a golden ring, and said: + “O take this ring, my damsel fair! and be mine own sweet maid!” + She took the ring—she slipp’d it on—and said, in sprightliest tone, + “I’ll have thee and thy golden ring, and be thy faithful one.” + + + +THE FRATRICIDE. + + + BETWEEN two mountains sank the sun— + Between two maids the enamour’d one. + He gave his kiss to one alone; + The other maid grew jealous then: + “Most faithless thou of faithless men!” + She said—and he replied—“Fair maid! + I fain would kiss thy cheeks of red, + But thou hast got a bickering brother, + Who loves to quarrel with another, + And I no quarrel seek, my love!” + + She hied her to the darksome grove— + Silent—she turn’d o’er many a rock, + And look’d ’neath many a broken stock; + Probed weeds and briars, till she found + A poisonous serpent on the ground. + She smote it with her golden ring, + Tore from its mouth the venomy fang; + Its poisonous juice her hands did wring + Into a wine cup—and she sprang + On swiftest feet to Raduli— + Her own—her only brother he— + Her hands the fatal cup supplied— + He drank the poison—and he died. + + Then sped she to the youth—“A kiss— + At least one kiss of love for this— + For this—for thee—I dress’d the cup + With poison—and he drank it up— + The brother that thou lov’st not—he + I poison’d—for a kiss from thee”— + + “Away! away! thou murd’rous maid! + Avaunt! avaunt!”—the lover said: + “What fame—what courage could confide + In thee—a heartless fratricide!” + + + +LOVE. + + + THE youth he struck on the tambourine, + And nought was so bright as its golden sheen; + Of the hair of maidens twined together + Its strings, which he struck with a falcon’s feather. + The maid look’d down from the balcony, + And thus to her inner self said she:— + + “O heaven! what a noble youth is he! + Would’st thou but give this youth to me, + I would make of the garden-pinks his bed, + I would lay fair roses under his head; + And waked by perfume, with what delight + Would he kiss the maiden’s forehead white!” + + + +MAPLE TREE. + + + O THOU brotherly maple tree! + Wilt thou be a friend to me? + Be a brother, and be a friend! + To the green grass thy branches bend, + That I may climb to their highest tip! + Look o’er the sea, and see the ship, + Where my lover sits smiling now; + He binds the turban round his brow, + And over his shoulders the shawl he flings, + Which is full of mine own embroiderings. + For three long years my hands inwove + Those golden flowers to deck my love: + The richest silk of the brightest dyes + I work’d for him, and now my eyes + Would fain my absent lover see: + Assist me, brotherly maple tree! + And tell me, if he thinks of me! + + + +SEMENDRIAN BEAUTY. + + + LOVELY maiden of Semendria! {152} + Turn again thy footsteps hither; + Let me see thy countenance! + + Hail thee, youth! and health be with thee! + Hast thou visited the markets? + Saw’st thou there a sheet of paper? + Like that paper is my forehead. + Hast thou ever seen the vineyard, + Seen the rosy wine that flows there? + Youth! my cheeks that wine resemble. + Didst thou ever walk the meadows, + Hast thou seen the black sloe-berry? + That black sloe my eyes will paint thee: + Hast thou wandered near the ocean? + Hast thou seen the _pijavitza_? {153} + Like it are the maiden’s eye-brows. + + + +SELF-ADMIRATION. + + + A MAIDEN to the fountain went; + I saw her overhang the place— + And—she was young and innocent— + I heard her say with simple grace, + “Indeed she has a pretty face; + And if she had a spring-flower wreath, + How well ’twould sit upon her brow; + And she might hear the shepherd breathe, + Yes! thou shalt be my maiden now! + The shepherd—’midst his fleecy drove, + Goes like a moon the stars above.” + + + +ASSIGNATION. + + + MAIDEN! let us share each other’s kisses! + Tell me, tell me, where shall be our meeting, + In thy garden, or in mine, sweet maiden? + Under thine, or under my green rose-tree; + Thou shalt be a rose, my gentle angel: + I to a fond butterfly will change me, + Everlastingly o’er thee to flutter— + On thy flowers untired I will suspend me, + Living blest upon mine own love’s kisses. + + + +FOOLISH VOW. + + + THE maiden made a foolish vow: + “I’ll never wear a flow’ret now;— + No flow’ret shall be ever mine— + I’ll never drink the proffer’d wine, + No wine I’ll drink—no friend I’ll kiss, + No, never more—my vow is this.” + So rashly, rashly spoke the maid, + But soon—ah, soon—repentance said: + + “A flowery garland o’er me, + How beautiful ’twould be: + And wine—it would restore me, + My heart’s own gaiety: + And love might play before me, + If one sweet kiss were free.” + + + +VILAS. + + + VISHNIA! {157a} lovely vishnia! + Lift thy branches higher; + For beneath thy branches, + Vilas {157b} dance delighted: + While Radisha {157c} dashes + From the flow’rs the dewdrops. + Vilas two conveying, + To the third he whispers: + “O be mine, sweet Vila! + Thou, with mine own mother, + In the shade shalt seat thee; + Silken vestments spinning, + Weaving golden garments.” + + + +LEPOTA. {158} + + + LEPOTA went forth to the harvest—she held + A sickle of silver in fingers of gold: + And the sun mounted high o’er the parched harvest field; + And the maiden in song all her sympathies told. + “I’ll give my white forehead to him who shall bind + All the sheaves which my sickle leaves scatter’d behind: + I’ll give my black eyes to the friend who shall bring + A draught of sweet water just fresh from the spring; + And to him who shall bear me to rest in the shade, + I will be—and for aye—an affectionate maid.” + + And she thought that her words were all wasted in air: + But a shepherd—just watching his sheepfold, was there; + And he flew, and with sedges he bound all the sheaves; + And he made her an arbor of haslewood leaves; + And he ran to the spring, and he brought the sweet water; + And he look’d on the face of Beauty’s young daughter, + And he said, “Lovely maiden, thy promise I claim;” + But the cheeks of the maiden were cover’d with shame, + And she said to the shepherd, while blushing—“Not so! + Go back to thy sheepfold—thou wanderer, go! + For if thou didst bind the loose sheaves, thou hast left + Thy sheep in the stubble, to wander bereft; + And if from the fountain the water thou beared’st, + Its freshness and coolness thou equally shared’st; + And if thou hast reared up an arbor of shade, + For thyself as for me its refreshment was made.” + + + +IMPRECATIONS. + + + THROUGH the long night a falcon cried, + “Awake, awake thee! youth! anon + Thy maiden will become a bride: + She puts her marriage garments on. + Awake! awake thee, youth! and send + A marriage blessing to thy friend.” + + “What! shall I be a marriage guest? + And shall I bid the maid be blest? + Hear then my marriage blessing, hear! + No son her barren womb shall bear: + May every bit of bread she breaks + Bring with it wretchedness and woe,— + For every drop her thirst that slakes + May tears of bitter anguish flow!” + + + +SECRETS DIVULGED. + + + Two lovers kiss each other in the meadows; + They think that no one sees the fond betrayal, + But the green meadows see them, and are faithless; + To the white flocks incontinent they say all; + And the white flocks proclaim it to the shepherd, + The shepherd to a high-road traveller brings it; + He to a sailor on the restless ocean tells it, + The sailor to his spice-ship thoughtless sings it; + The spice-ship whispers it upon the waters, + The waters rush to tell the maiden’s mother. + + And thus impassioned spoke the lovely maiden— + “Meadows! of spring-days never see another! + Flocks! may the cruel ravenous wolves destroy ye. + Thee, shepherd! may the cruel Moslem slaughter. + Wanderer! may oft thy slippery footsteps stumble. + Thee, sailor! may the ocean billows smother. + Ship! may a fire unquenchable consume thee; + And sink into the earth, thou treacherous water!” + + + +WISHES. + + + O THAT I were a little stream, + That I might flow to him—to him! + How should I dance with joy, when knowing + To whom my sparkling wave was flowing! + Beneath his window would I glide, + And linger there till morning-tide; + When first he rouses him to dress + In comely garb his manliness,— + Then should he weak, or thirsty be, + O he might stoop to drink of me! + Or baring there his bosom, lave + That bosom in my rippling wave. + O what a bliss, if I could bear + The cooling power of quiet there! + + + +LOVER ASLEEP. + + + O NIGHTINGALE! thy warblings cease, + And let my master sleep in peace: + ’Twas I who lull’d him to repose, + And I will wake him from his rest; + I’ll seek the sweetest flower that grows, + And bear it to his presence blest; + And gently touch his cheeks, and say, + “Awake, my master! for ’tis day.” + + + +EARLY SORROWS + + + O NIGHTINGALE! sweet bird—they say, + That peace abides with thee; + But thou hast brought from day to day + A triple woe to me. + The first, first woe my spirit knew, + My first, first woe was this, + My mother never train’d me to + A lover’s early bliss. + My second woe, my second woe, + Was that my trusty steed, + Whene’er I mounted, seem’d to show + Nor eagerness nor speed. + My third, third woe—of all the worst, + Is that the maid I woo, + The maid I lov’d the best—the first, + Is angry with me too. + Then grave an early grave for me, + Yon whiten’d fields among; + In breadth two lances let it be, + And just four lances long. + And o’er my head let roses grow, + There plant the red-rose tree; + And at my feet a fount shall flow, + O scoop that fount for me! + So when a youthful swain appears, + The roses he shall wreathe; + And when an old man bent with years, + He’ll drink the stream beneath. + + + +THE YOUNG SHEPHERDS. + + + THE sheep, beneath old Buda’s wall, + Their wonted quiet rest enjoy; + But ah! rude stony fragments fall, + And many a silk-wool’d sheep destroy; + Two youthful shepherds perish there, + The golden George, and Mark the fair. + + For Mark, O many a friend grew sad, + And father, mother wept for him: + George—father, friend, nor mother had, + For him no tender eye grew dim: + Save one—a maiden far away, + She wept—and thus I heard her say: + + “My golden George—and shall a song, + A song of grief be sung for thee— + ’Twould go from lip to lip—ere long + By careless lips profaned to be; + Unhallow’d thoughts might soon defame + The purity of woman’s name. + + “Or shall I take thy picture fair, + And fix that picture in my sleeve? + Ah! time will soon the vestment tear, + And not a shade, nor fragment leave: + I’ll give not him I love so well + To what is so corruptible. + + “I’ll write thy name within a book; + That book will pass from hand to hand, + And many an eager eye will look, + But ah! how few will understand! + And who their holiest thoughts can shroud + From the cold insults of the crowd?” {168} + + + +THOUGHTS OF A MOTHER. + + + Lo! a fir-tree towers o’er Sarajevo, + Spreads o’er half the face of Sarajevo— + Rises up to heaven from Sarajevo: + Brothers and half-sisters there were seated; + And the brother cuts a silken garment, + Which he holds, and questions thus his sister: + + “Brother’s wife! thou sweet and lovely dovelet! + Wherefore art thou looking at the fir-tree? + Art thou rather dreaming of the poplar, + Or art thinking of my absent brother?” + + To her brother thus the lady answer’d: + “Golden-ring of mine! my husband’s brother! + Not about the fir-tree was I dreaming, + Nor the noble stem of lofty poplar; + Neither was I dreaming of my brother. + I was thinking of my only mother, + She with sugar and with honey reared me; + She for me the red wine pour’d at even, + And at midnight gave the sweet metheglin; + In the morning milk, with spirit chasten’d, + So to give me cheeks of rose and lily; + And with gentle messages she waked me, + That her child might grow both tall and slender.” + + + +COUNSEL. + + + “MY Misho! tell me, tell me, pray, + Where wert thou wandering yesterday?” + ‘I did not ramble—did not roam; + A wretched head-ache kept me home.’ + “A thousand times I’ve said, I think, + No widows love—no water drink! + But thou, a thoughtless unbeliever, + Wilt water drink, and get a fever; + Wilt give to widows thine affection, + And find remorse, or find rejection; + Now take my counsel,—drink of wine, + And be a virgin maiden thine!” + + + +DESOLATION. + + + GLOOMY night! how full thou art of darkness! + Thou, my heart! art fuller yet of sorrow, + Sorrow which I bear, but cannot utter! + I have now no mother who will hear me, + I have now no sister who will soothe me,— + Yet I had a friend—but he is absent! + Ere he comes, the night will be departed; + Ere he wakes, the birds will sing their matins; + Ere his kiss, the twilight hour will brighten: + Go thy way, my friend! the day is dawning! + + + +APPREHENSION. + + + “SWEET maiden mine! thou blushing rose! + Sweet, blushing roselet mine! + For me, what thought of honey flows + From those sweet lips of thine?” + ‘I dare not speak with thee, my dear, + My mother has forbid me.’ + “Sweet maid! thy mother is not here.” + ‘She saw me once, and chid me. + Sir, she is in the garden there, + Plucking the evergreen:— + O may her heart like mine decay, + Like mine decay unseen,— + Ere love’s sweet power has pass’d away, + As it had never been.’ + + + +MILITZA. + + + LONG and lovely are Militza’s eyebrows, + And they overhang her cheeks of roses— + Cheeks of roses, and her snowy forehead. + Three long years have I beheld the maiden, + Could not look upon her eyes so lovely— + On her eyes—nor on her snowy forehead. + To our country dance I lured the maiden, + Lured Militza,—lured her to our dances, + Hoping to look on her eyes so lovely. + + While they danced upon the greensward, verdant + In the sunshine, sudden darkness gather’d, + And the clouds broke out in fiery lightning, + And the maidens all look’d up to heaven,— + All the maidens—all, except Militza. + She still look’d on the green grass, untrembling, + While the maidens trembled as they whisper’d: + + “O Militza! thou our friend and playmate, + Art thou overwise—or art thou silly? + Thus to look upon the grass beneath us, + And not look up to the heaven above us, + To the clouds, round which the lightnings wind them.” + + And Militza gave this quiet answer: + “I am neither overwise nor silly. + Not the _Vila_, {176} not the cloud-upgatherer; + I am yet a maid—and look before me.” + + + +THE CHOICE. + + + HE slept beneath a poplar tree: + And three young maidens cross’d the way; + I listened to the lovely three, + And heard them to each other say:— + “Now what is dearest, love! to thee?” + The eldest said—‘Young Ranko’s ring + Would be to me the dearest thing.’ + “No! not for me,” the second cried; + “I’d choose the girdle from his side.” + ‘Not I,’ the youngest said—‘In truth, + I’ll rather have the sleeping youth. + The ring, O sister! will grow dim, + The girdle will ere long be broken; + But this is an eternal token,— + His love for me, and mine for him.’ + + + +FOR WHOM? + + + SWEET fountain, that so freshly flows! + And thou, my own carnation-rose, + That shinest like a shining gem! + And shall I tear thee from thy stem? + For whom? my mother? ah! for whom? + My mother slumbers in the tomb. + For whom? my sister? she has fled, + To seek a foreign bridal bed. + For whom? my brother? he is far, + Far off, in dark and bloody war. + For whom, for whom, but thee, my love? + But thou art absent far above, + Above these three green mountains, + Beyond these three fresh fountains! + + + +LIBERTY. + + + NIGHTINGALE sings sweetly + In the verdant forest; + In the verdant forest, + On the slender branches. + + Thither came three sportsmen, + Nightingale to shoot at. + She implored the sportsmen, + “Shoot me not, ye sportsmen! + + “Shoot me not, ye sportsmen! + I will give you music, + In the verdant garden, + On the crimson rose-tree.” + + But the sportsmen seize her; + They deceive the songster, + In a cage confine her, + Give her to their loved one. + + Nightingale will sing not— + Hangs its head in silence: + Then the sportsmen bear her + To the verdant forests. + + Soon her song is waken’d; + “Woe! woe! woe betides us, + Friend from friend divided, + Bird from forest banish’d!” + + + +THE DANCE. + + + OMER’S court is near to Sarajevo; {181a} + All around it is a woody mountain: + In the midst there is a verdant meadow; + There the maidens dance their joyous Kolo. {181b} + In the Kolo there is Damian’s loved one; + O’er the Kolo her fair head uprises, + Rises gay and lustrous in her beauty. + ’Midst the Kolo Nicholas address’d her: + “Veil your face, thou Damian’s best beloved! + For to-day death’s summons waits on Damian. + Half thy face veil over, lovely maiden!” + Hardly the prophetic words were utter’d, + Ere a gun was heard from the green forest; + Damian, wounded, fell amidst the Kolo— + Damian fell, and thus his love address’d him: + “O my Damian! O my sun of springtime! + Wherefore, wherefore didst thou shine so brightly, + Thus so soon to sink behind the mountain?” + “My beloved! O thou rose all beauteous! + Wherefore didst thou bloom so fair, so lovely, + And I never can enjoy, nor wear thee?” + + + +ELEGY. + + + KONDA died—his mother’s only offspring. + O what grief was hers the youth to bury + Far away from his own natural dwelling! + So she bore him to a verdant garden, + And ’neath gold pomegranate trees interr’d him. + Every, every day she wandered thither: + “Doth the earth, sweet son, lie heavy on thee? + Heavy are the planks of maple round thee?” + From his grave the voice of Konda answers: + “Lightly presses the green earth upon me, + Lightly press the planks of maple round me. + Heavy is the virgins’ malediction; + When they sigh, their sighs reach God’s high presence; + When they curse, the world begins to tremble; + When they weep, even God is touch’d with pity.” + + + +INQUIRY. + + + A MAIDEN sat on th’ ocean shore, + And held this converse with herself: + “O God of goodness and of love! + What’s broader than the mighty sea, + And what is longer than the field, + And what is swifter than the steed, + What sweeter than the honey dew, + What dearer than a brother is?” + A fish thus answer’d from the sea: + “O maid! thou art a foolish girl. + The heaven is broader than the sea; + The sea is longer than the field; + The eye is swifter than the steed; + Sugar more sweet than honey dew; + Dearer than brother is thy love.” + + + +DOUBT. + + + THREE young travellers travell’d forth to travel: + On their travels met a lovely maiden: + Each will give the lovely maid a present: + One presents her with a fresh-pluck’d apple: + One presents her with _bosilka_ {185a} flowering: + One a gold ring for the maiden’s finger. + He who gave the maiden the bosilka + Said, “The maid is mine—I claim the maiden.” + He who gave the maid the fresh-pluck’d apple + Said, “The maid is _mine_—I claim the maiden.” + He who gave the gold ring to the maiden + Said, “We’ll go and seek the judge {185b} together: + He shall say to whom belongs the maiden.” + So they went and sought the judge’s presence: + “Judge, thou honourable judge! between us: + We three travellers travell’d forth together, + And we met a maiden in our travels, + And we gave her—gave her each a present: + One of us a green and fresh-pluck’d apple: + One presented her bosilka flowering; + And the third a gold ring for her finger:— + Now decide to whom belongs the maiden.” + + Thus the honourable judge decided: + “We present bosilka for its odour: + As a pledge of love we give an apple: + But to give a ring is a betrothing;— + He who gave the ring must have the maiden.” + + + +THE SULTANESS. + + + LISTEN! I hear a cry, a cry! + The bells are ringing lustily; + And the hens are cackling all in riot. + No! no! no! the bells are quiet; + The hens at rest with one another: + ’Tis the sister calls the brother: + + “Brother! I am a Moslem slave: + Tear me from my Turkish grave. + Small the price which sets me free: + Of pearls two measures—of gold but three.” + + In vain she calls her brother.—‘O no! + My treasures to my apparel go: + The gold my horse’s bridle must deck: + My pearls must grace my maiden’s neck; + Must buy a kiss—must buy a kiss.’ + The maid her brother answer’d with this: + “I am no slave! I am no less + Than the sultan’s chosen sultaness.” + + + +BETROTHING. + + + HERE there is a maiden, + Young, and yet a virgin: + Give her then a husband, + Or give us the maiden, + And we will betroth her + To Ivan the student. + He’s our parson’s nephew— + He has art to write on + Pinions of the eagle. + What shall be his subject? + What—but bright-eyed maidens + And the brows of heroes? + + + +CAUTIONS. + + + O THOU lovely maiden! + Lo! thy praise has mounted + To the monarch’s city! + Maiden! thou hast planted + The six-branch’d _kaloper_ {190a} + And bosilka {190b} early. + But the youths unmarried + Long have been in waiting + To tear up thy balsam— + Thy bosilka pillage. + Know’st thou not they linger + Just to steal thy kisses? + Maiden! maiden! never + Let those youths betray thee! + + + +MAIDEN’S CARES. + + + O SLEEP! sweet sleep! in vain, in vain + I bid thee visit me: + The anxious thought disturbs my brain— + Whose shall the maiden be? + My mother says, “The goatherd, child! + The goatherd, child! for thee.” + Nay, mother, nay! not he, not he; + That were no happiness for me: + He tracks the mountains steep and wild + Where rocks and dangers be. + + O sleep! sweet sleep! in vain, in vain + I bid thee visit me: + The anxious thought disturbs my brain— + Whose shall the maiden be? + My mother says, “The shepherd, maid! + The shepherd, maid! for thee.” + Nay, mother, nay! not he, not he; + That were no happiness for me: + He wanders through the distant glade + Where wolves and perils be. + + O sleep! sweet sleep! in vain, in vain + I bid thee visit me: + The anxious thought disturbs my brain— + Whose shall the maiden be? + My mother says, “The tradesman, dear! + The tradesman, dear! for thee.” + Nay, mother, nay! not he, not he; + That were no happiness for me: + He is a wanderer far and near, + His house no home may be. + + O sleep, sweet sleep! in vain, in vain + I bid thee visit me: + The anxious thought disturbs my brain— + Whose shall the maiden be? + My mother says, “The tailor, then, + The tailor, then, for thee!” + Nay! mother! nay; not he, not he! + That were no happiness for me; + The tailor’s needle may be keen, + His children hungry be. + + O sleep, sweet sleep! in vain, in vain + I bid thee visit me; + The anxious thought disturbs my brain, + Whose shall the maiden be? + My mother says;—“The peasant, take + The peasant, child! for thee.” + Yes! mother, yes! in him I see + Both love and happiness for me; + For though his labouring hands are black, + The whitest bread eats he. + + + +MAHOMMEDAN SONG. + + + HIS breath is amber,—sharp his reed; + The hand which holds it, O! how white. + He writes fair talismans,—a creed, + For maidens doth the loved one write: + “Of him that will not have thee,—think not! + From him that fain would have thee, shrink not.” + + + +MINE EVERY WHERE. + + + “COME with me, thou charming maiden! + Be my love and come with me.” + ‘Wherefore play with words so foolish? + That can never, never be; + I had rather in the tavern + Bear the golden cup, than ever,— + Ever promise to be thine.’ + “I am the young tavern-keeper, + So thou wilt indeed be mine.” + + ‘Wherefore play with words so foolish? + No such fate will e’er befall; + In the coffee-house I’d rather + Serve, envelop’d in my shawl, + Rather than be thine at all.’ + “But I am the coffee boiler, + Thee, my maiden, will I call.” + + ‘Wherefore play with words so foolish? + That can never, never be; + Rather o’er the field I’ll wander, + Changed into a quail, than ever, + Ever give myself to thee.’ + “But I am a vigorous sportsman, + And thou wilt belong to me.” + + ‘Play not, youth! with words so foolish, + That can never, never be; + Rather to a fish I’d change me, + Dive me deep beneath the sea, + Rather than belong to thee.’ + “But I am the finest network, + Which into the sea I’ll cast; + Mine thou art, and mine thou shalt be,— + Yes! thou must be mine at last; + Be it here, or be it there, + Mine thou must be every where.” + + + +MAID AWAKING. + + + LOVELY maiden gather’d roses, + Sleep overtook her then; + Pass’d a youth and call’d the maiden, + Waked the maid again: + “Wake! O wake! thou lovely maiden, + Why art slumbering now? + All the rosy wreaths are fading, + Fading on thy brow. + He, thy heart’s own love, will marry; + He will break his vow!” + ‘Let him marry, let him marry, + I shall not complain; + But the thunderbolt of heav’n + Shall destroy him then.’ + + + +MOTHER’S LOVE. + + + ON the balcony young Jovan sported, + While he sported, lo! it crash’d beneath him, + And he fell,—his right arm broke in falling! + Who shall find a surgeon for the sufferer? + Lo! the Vila of the mountain sends one, + But the recompense he asks is heavy; + Her white hand demands he of the mother,— + Of the sister all her silken ringlets,— + Of the wife he asks her pearl-strung necklace. + + Freely gave her hand young Jovan’s mother, + Freely gave her silken hair his sister, + But his wife refus’d her pearly treasure:— + “Nay! I will not give my pearl-strung necklace, + For it was a present of my father.” + Anger then incens’d the Mountain-Vila, + Into Jovan’s wounds she pour’d her poison, + And he died,—Alas! for thee, poor mother! + + Then began the melancholy cuckoos,—{199} + Cuckoos then began their funeral dirges; + One pour’d out her mournful plaints unceasing, + One at morning mourn’d, and mourn’d at ev’ning, + And the third whene’er sad thoughts came o’er her. + Tell me which is the unceasing mourner? + ’Tis the sorrowing mother of young Jovan. + Which at morning mourns and late at evening? + ’Tis the grieving sister of young Jovan. + Which when melancholy thoughts come o’er her? + ’Tis the youthful wife,—the wife of Jovan. + + + +THE GREYBEARD. + + + I HEARD young Falisava say: + “I’ll have no ancient greybeard, nay! + A sprightly beardless youth for me.” + An aged man the maiden heard, + He shaves his long and snowy beard, + And paints his chin like ebony: + To Falisava then he goes— + “My heart! my soul! my garden rose! + A beardless youth is come for thee.” + And then she listen’d—they were wed— + And to the old man’s home they sped. + + Then twilight came, and evening’s shade— + And said the old man to the maid: + “Sweet Falisava! maiden fair! + Our bed beside the stove prepare, + And the warm feather-mattress bear”— + The maiden heard—the maiden went, + And gather’d flowers of sweetest scent— + Of sweetest scent and fairest hue, + Which on the old man’s bed she threw, + And like a strong-wing’d eagle then + Flew to her father’s home again. + + + +MAHOMMEDAN TALE. + + + WHO is mourning there in Glamotz’s fortress? + ’Tis the Vila—’tis an angry serpent? + ’Tis no Vila—’tis no angry serpent! + ’Tis the maid Emina there lamenting— + There lamenting, for her woe is grievous! + Lo! the _Ban_ the maiden hath imprison’d— + Hath imprison’d her, and will baptize her; + But Emina never will be faithless— + From the white-wall’d tower will fling her rather. + + Thus the unbelieving Ban address’d she: + “Unbelieving Ban! a moment tarry, + While I hasten to the upper story.” + And she hasten’d to the upper story; + Look’d around her from the white-wall’d fortress: + In the distance saw her father’s dwelling— + Saw the white school where she pass’d her childhood. + “O my father’s home! my poor heart’s sorrow! + School of childhood! once that childhood’s terror! + Many a day of weariness and sorrow + Did thy small-writ lessons give Emina.” + Then she wrapp’d her snowy robes around her— + Thought not of the band that bound her tresses, + And she flung her from the fortress turret. + But her hairband caught the open window— + From the window, ah! she hung suspended— + Hung a week suspended from the window— + Then her hair gave way—and then the maiden + On the greensward fell. + The Christian heard it— + He, the Christian Ban, and hasten’d thither; + Oft and oft he kiss’d the dead Emina; + And he peacefully entomb’d the maiden. + O’er her grave a chapel he erected, + And with golden apples he adorn’d it. + Ere a week had pass’d away, descended + On her tomb a beauteous light from heaven; + At her head a beauteous light was kindled; + At her feet another light shone sweetly; + And her aged mother saw and wonder’d. + From her chain she took her knife, and plunged it— + Plunged it deep within her troubled bosom— + Fell, and died—O melancholy mother! + + + +LOVE’S DIFFICULTIES. + + + I LOVED her from her infancy, + Lado! Lado! + From childhood to maturity, + Lado! Lado! + And when I claim’d the smiling maid, + Lado! Lado! + “Ye are of kindred blood!” they said, + Lado! Lado! + “Brother and sister’s children ye, + Lado! Lado! + It were a sin to steal a kiss,” + Lado! Lado! + Oh what a sacrifice is this! + Lado! Lado! + I’ll steal a kiss though I be riven, + Lado! Lado! + From every, every hope of heaven, + Lado! Lado! + For what would heaven become to me, + Lado! Lado! + When the long nights of autumn flee, + Lado! Lado! {206} + + + +WITCHES. + + + THE sky is cover’d with stars again: + The plains are cover’d with flocks of sheep: + But where is the shepherd? On the plain + The shepherd is lost in careless-sleep: + The youthful Rādoje sleeps:—Arise! + Awake! his sister Jania cries. + + “Jania! sister! nay! depart! + My body to witches is plighted: + My mother has torn away my heart, + And my aunt my mother lighted.” + + + +PLEDGES. + + + THE wind was with the roses playing: + To Ranko’s tent it blew their leaves: + Militza, Ranko, there were staying; + And Ranko writes—Militza weaves. + His letter done, he drops his pen: + Her finish’d web she throws aside: + And lo! I heard the lover then + Low whisper to his promised bride: + “Militza! tell me truly now + And dost thou love me—love me best? + Or heavy is thy nuptial vow?”— + And thus the maid the youth address’d: + “O trust me—thou my heart—my soul! + That thou art dearer far to me— + Far dearer, Ranko! than the whole + Of brothers—many though they be: + And that the vows we pledged together + Are lighter than the lightest feather.” + + + +COMPLAINT. + + + O FLOWER! so lovely in thy bloom, + Be evil fate thy mother’s doom! + Thy mother, who so kindly nurst, + And sent thee to our village first. + Where heroes o’er their cups romancing, + And our young striplings stones are flinging, + And our delighted brides are dancing, + And our gay maidens songs are singing— + ’Twas then I saw thee, lovely flower! + And lost my quiet from that hour. + + + +SONG. + + + The winter is gone, + Beloved, arise! + The spring is come on, + The birds are all singing: + Beloved, arise! + + The roses are springing; + Earth laughs out in love: + Beloved, arise! + And thou, my sweet dove! + O waste not thy time: + Beloved, arise! + + Enjoy the sweet bliss + Of a kiss—of a kiss: + Beloved, arise! + In the hour of thy prime, + Beloved, arise! + + + +MAHOMMEDAN SONG. + + + I HAVE piercing eyes—the eyes of falcons: + I am of undoubted noble lineage: + I can read the heart of Osman Aga: + I was ask’d by Osman Aga’s mother: + “Cursed witch: and yet most lovely maiden! + Why with white and red dost paint thy visage? + Fascinate no longer Osman Aga! + I will speed me to the verdant forest, + Build me up of maple-trees a dwelling, + And lock up within it Osman Aga.” + + Then the maid replied to Osman’s mother: + “Lady Anka! Osman Aga’s mother— + I have falcon eyes—and eyes of devils: + With them I can ope thy maple dwelling— + With them visit, too, thy Osman Aga.” + + + +BROTHERLESS SISTERS. + + + TWO solitary sisters, who + A brother’s fondness never knew, + Agreed, poor girls, with one another, + That they would make themselves a brother: + They cut them silk, as snow-drops white; + And silk, as richest rubies bright; + They carved his body from a bough + Of box-tree from the mountain’s brow; + Two jewels dark for eyes they gave; + For eyebrows, from the ocean’s wave + They took two leeches; and for teeth + Fix’d pearls above, and pearls beneath; + For food they gave him honey sweet, + And said, “Now live, and speak, and eat.” + + + +MISFORTUNES. + + + ON the hill, the fir-tree hill, + Grows a tall fir-tree: + There a maiden, calm and still, + Sits delightedly. + To a youthful swain she pledges + Vows: “O come to me: + Lightly spring across the hedges: + Come—but silently. + Come at eve—lest harm betide thee. + If any home thou seek, + In our quiet dwelling hide thee; + Not a whisper speak.” + As he o’er the hedges sprung, + Lo! a twig he tore: + When the house-door ope he flung, + Noisy was the door. + When he enter’d in, there fell + Shelves upon the floor, + ’Twas the broken china’s knell— + O the luckless hour! + Then her mother comes afeard, + Trips and cuts her knee; + And her father burns his beard + In perplexity. + And the youth must quench the fire, + And the maiden must retire. + + + +TIMIDITY. + + + Lo! upon the mountain green + Stands a fir tree tall and thin— + ’Tis no fir tree—none at all— + ’Tis a maiden thin and tall. + Three long years the enamour’d one + Fed upon her eyes alone; + On the fourth, he sought the bliss + Of the maiden’s primal kiss: + “Why, thou witching maid! repel me— + Why with foot of scorn dost tread, + On my feet, my boots of red! + Why despise me, maiden! tell me.” + + “No, my friend, I will not tread + On thy feet, thy boots of red! + Come at evening—come and string + Pearls for me—and thou shalt fling + O’er me my embroider’d shawl. + We will go at morning’s call + To the Kolo—Friend! but thou + Must not touch the maiden _now_— + Know’st thou not that busy slander + Follows us where’er we wander? + Evil tongues are ever talking; + Calumny abroad is walking. + Know’st thou that a simple kiss + Ample food for slander is? + ‘Never did we kiss,’ you’ll say, + ‘Till last evening and to-day.’ + Come at evening—come my dear! + Sisters’ eyes will watch thee here.” + + + +YOUTH ENAMOURED. + + + “WHERE wert thou, Misho! yesterday?” + ‘O ’twas a happy day to me! + A lovely maiden cross’d my way, + A maiden smiling lovelily. + And those sweet smiles for me were meant; + I claimed her—mother answer’d ‘No!’ + Would steal her—vain was the intent, + For many guardians watch’d her so. + There grows a verdant almond-tree + Before her house—its boughs I’ll climb; + Wail like a cuckoo mournfully, + And swallow-like, at evening time, + Pour forth my woe in throbbings deep, + And like a sorrowing widow sigh, + And like a youthful maiden weep. + So may her mother turn her eye, + Pitying my grief, her heart may move, + And she may give me her I love.’ + + + +BLUE AND BLACK EYES. + + + I WISH the happy time were nigh, + When youths are sold, that I might buy. + But for an azure-eyed _Milinar_, {219} + I would not give a single dinar, + Though for a raven-black eyed youth, + A thousand golden coins, in truth. + Alas! alas!—and is it true? + My own fair youth has eyes of blue; + Yes! they are blue—yet dear to me— + Will he forgive my levity? + Ye maidens! pray him to forgive me; + Nay! spare me now—and rather leave me + To tell him “I am yours”—and smile + In fond affection all the while. + + + +THE WIDOW. + + + ROSE! O smile upon the youth no longer; + He, in his impatience to be wedded, + Chose a widow for his years unsuited, + And where’er she goes, where’er she tarries, + She is mourning for her ancient husband. + + “O my husband! first and best possession! + Happy were the days we spent together! + Early we retired and late we waken’d. + Thou didst wake me kissing my white forehead, + ‘Up, my heart! the sun is high in heaven, + And our aged mother is arisen.’” + + + +ALARMS. + + + FAIREST youths are here—but not the fairest! + Could I hear him now, or could I see him,— + Could I know if he be sick, or faithless! + Were he sick, my ears would rather hear it, + Than that he had loved another maiden. + Sickness may depart, and time restore him,— + If enamour’d,—never! never! never! + + + +FOND WIFE. + + + O! if I were a mountain streamlet, + I know where I would flow; + I’d spring into the crystal Sava, + Where the gay vessels go, + That I might look upon my lover— + For fain my heart would know + If, when he holds the helm, he ever + Looks on my rose, and thinks + Of her who gave it;—if the nosegay + I made of sweetest pinks + Is faded yet, and if he wear it. + On Saturday I cull + To give him for a Sabbath present + All that is beautiful. + + + +UNHAPPY BRIDE. + + + THE maiden gave the ring she wore + To him who gave it her before: + “O take the ring,—for thou and thine + Are hated,—not by me,—but mine:— + Father and mother will not hear thee, + Brother and sister both forswear thee: + Yet, think not, youth,—O think not ill + Of her who needs must love thee still! + I am a poor unhappy maid, + Whose path the darkest clouds o’ershade; + I sowed sweet basil, and there grew + On that same spot the bitterest rue: + And wormwood, that unholy flower, + Is now alone my marriage dower; + The only flower which they shall wear + Who to the maiden’s marriage come, + When for my marriage altar there + The guests shall find the maiden’s tomb.” + + + +LAST PETITION. + + + UPON her mother’s bosom lay + Young Mira, and she pined away. + ’T was in her own maternal shed; + And thus the anxious mother said:— + “What ails thee, tell me, Mira! pray?” + + “O ask me not, my mother dear! + I feel that death approaches near; + I shall not rise from this my bed; + But, mother mine! when I am dead— + O mother mine! call round me all + My playmates to my funeral: + And let the friends I loved receive + The little gifts that I shall leave; + Then let me sleep in peace beneath.— + There’s one, my mother, I should grieve + To be divided from in death. + Then call around me priests divine, + And pious pilgrims, mother mine! + The forehead of thy dying daughter + Steep in the rose’s fragrant water. + And, mother, let my forehead be + Dried with the rose-leaves from the tree; + And pillow not thy daughter’s head, + O mother! with the common dead; + But let me have a quiet tomb + Adjacent to my Mirjo’s home, + And near my Mirjo’s nightly bed; + So when he wakes his thoughts shall dwell + With her he loved, and loved so well.” + + + +LOVE FOR A BROTHER. + + + THE sun sank down behind the gold-flower’d hill; + The warriors from the fight approach the shore: + There stood young George’s wife, serene and still: + She counted all the heroes o’er and o’er, + And found not those she loved—though they were three:— + Her husband, George; her marriage friend, another, + Who late had led the marriage revelry; + The third, her best-beloved, her only brother. + + Her husband, he was dead; she rent her hair + For him.—Her friend was gone,—for him she tore + Her cheeks.—Her only brother was not there: + For him she pluck’d her eye-balls from their bed. + Her hair grew forth as lovely as before; + Upon her cheeks her former beauties spread; + But nothing could her perish’d sight restore: + Nought heals the heart that mourns a brother dead. + + + +REBUKE. + + + “MAIDEN! hast thou seen my steed?” + ‘Faithless one! not I, indeed! + But I heard that thou hadst tied him + To the mountain-maple tree; + When a stranger pass’d beside him, + Full of scorn and rage was he: + With his hoofs the ground he beat; + Of his master’s guilt he knew. + Not one maiden did he cheat: + No; that master cheated two: + One has borne a wretched child; + One with grief and shame is wild!’ + + + +MAN’S FAITH. + + + SAY! dost thou remember when under the vine, + Thy tears fell in streams on the breast of thy maid; + When thy heart burst in joy as I own’d thee for mine? + Alas! for the maiden whose peace is betray’d, + By the tears and the vows of a falsehood like thine! + As the changeable sky—now o’erclouded, now bright, + Is the faith of thy race—their language to-day, + “I will wed thee to-morrow, my love and my light!” + To-morrow—“Let’s wait till the harvest’s away.” + The harvest is ended, the winter is nigh, + And another maid dwells in their hearts and their eye. + + + +MAIDEN’S AFFECTION. + + + “BLACK is the night—an outcast lad + Is wandering in our village, mother! + Thy daughter’s heart is very sad, + Sad even to death! He has no home: + O give him ours, he has no other, + And bid the lad no longer roam!” + ‘Nay! daughter, let this outcast stray, + He is a proud and city youth; + Will ask for wine at break of day, + And costly meats at eve, forsooth, + And for his city-tutor’d head + Will want a soft and stately bed.’ + + “O mother! In God’s name divine, + Give the poor lad a shelter now: + My eyes shall serve instead of wine, + For costly meats my maiden brow. + My neck shall be his honey comb: + His bed the dewy grass shall be, + And heaven his stately canopy. + His head shall rest upon my arm. + O mother! give the youth a home, + And shelter, shelter him from harm.” + + + + +MARRIAGE SONGS. + + +THE MARRIAGE LEADER. + + + “MAKE ready! make ready,” + To his sister the youth is repeating; + “Make ready my steed for the wedding, + O sister! the young Doge {231} is waiting: + I’m bid to the wedding, I’m summon’d to guide + To the wedding the maiden—the Doge’s young bride.” + + + +APPROACHING BRIDEGROOM. + + + WHAT is shining on the verdant mountain? + Sun—or moon—so beautifully shining? + ’Tis not sun, or moon that shines so brightly, + ’Tis the bridegroom {232} hasting to the marriage. + + + +PARTING OF THE BRIDE. + + + SWEETEST of maidens! O be still, + Be silent—prithee weep not now, + Thy mother she will weep—wilt fill + Her sorrowing eyes with tears, for thou + Wilt leave thy cherish’d home ere long: + And when thy young companions go + To the fresh stream, amidst the throng + She’ll seek thee—will she find thee? No! + + + +DEPARTURE OF THE WEDDING GUESTS. + + + O THOU young bridegroom, thou rose in its beauty, + Lo! we have brought thee a rosemary branch; + And if the rosemary branch should decay, + Thine will the shame be, the sorrow be ours. + Scatter the rosemary leaves o’er thy way; + Let not destruction disparage its flowers. + + + +TO THE BRIDE, WHEN THE MARRIAGE HOOD {233} IS FIRST PUT ON. + + + MAID! from a distant forest tree, + A verdant leaf is blown to thee; + And that green leaf has fixed it now, + In the green garland on thy brow: + The garland green, that we have bound, + Maiden! thy auburn ringlets round: + O no! it is no leaf, that we + Have braided in a wreath for thee; + ’Tis the white hood that thou must wear, + The token of domestic care: + Thou hast no mother now—another, + A stranger must be called thy mother; + And sister-love thy heart must share, + With one who was not born thy brother. + + + +AT THE MARRIAGE. + + + AN apple tree at Ranko’s door was growing, + Its trunk was silver, golden were its branches; + Its branches golden, and of pearls its foliage, + Its leaves were pearls, and all its apples corals. + And many dovelets, on the branches seated, + Coo’d in their fond affection to each other; + Coo’d loudly, and they pluck’d the pearls—one, only + One, only one was silent, one was silent— + It coo’d not, pluck’d no pearls from off the branches: + That one was terrified by Ranko’s mother: + “Begone—gray dovelet! thou art an intruder! + Was not the apple-tree by Ranko planted? + By Ranko planted, and by Ranko watered, + That it might shade the guests at Ranko’s marriage, + Shade all his guests beneath its joyous branches.” + + * * * * * + + THE END. + + + + +Footnotes + + +{0a} Instit. Ling. Salv. p. 154. + +{0b} The origin of this word is rather oriental than Roman. It is the +Persian Shah, and not the Cæsar of Rome, nor the Kaiser of Germany. + +{0c} The best sources of Servian history are: + +_George Brankovich’s_ History of Servia, MS. in Karlovitz. + +_Julinac’s_ vvedencie v istoria slaveno-serbskag Naroda. + +_Raicz’s_ Kratkaia Serblii, Rassii, Bosny i Ramy Istoria; and by the same +author, Istoria Slavenskich Narodov, &c. + +_Von Engel’s_ Geschichte von Servien und Bosnien. + +_Neshkovicz’s_ Istoria Slaveno-bolgarskog Naroda, and _Davidovicz’s_ +Jeianija k Istoria Srbskoga Naroda. See Schaffarik’s Slawische Sprache +und Literatur, p. 196. + +{0d} Geschichte der Slawischen Sprache und Literatur, p. 201. + +{0e} Grimm’s Introduction to Vuk’s Servian Grammar, p. x. + +{0f} Adelung, who has only given a fragment of the Servian language in +his Mithridates, calls the Servian and Bosnian dialects “the clearest and +purest of all the Illyrian tongues.” + +{0g} The Servians possess a translation of the Bible, made in the ninth +century, written in the _Pannonian_ dialect, which is now obsolete. This +Bible, however, has served, and still serves, as a standard of the +Servian language; and its authority has been rather increased than +diminished from the circumstance of its phraseology being far removed +from what is deemed the vulgar idiom. That the vulgar idiom, however, is +amply sufficient for all the common purposes of language, and for the +communication even of the most exquisite shades of thought and feelings, +is sufficiently exemplified. + +{0h} He was born in 1645. He represented the princes of Transylvania at +Constantinople, where he served Leopold so faithfully, that the latter +determined to unite in his person the Hungarian and the Servian crowns. +It was he who, associated with the archbishop of Ipek, led 36,000 Servian +families into Lower Hungary, and, as a reward for his exertions, he was +made a baron (Freiherr), and afterwards a count; but ere long he became +the object of suspicion; he was confined at Vienna, banished as a state +prisoner to Eger in Bohemia, where he wrote his History of Servia, and +died in 1711. + +{0i} He frequently refers to the Servian ballads as historical +authorities, though he seems to have formed no correct estimate of their +poetical merits. + +{0j} Dr. Vuk is at the present hour, I believe, a member of the +household of the Hospodar of Servia, and engaged in collecting a farther +supply of popular poetry. + +Dr. Vuk has also published Narodne Srpske Pripovijetke. A collection of +Servian tales. Vienna, 1821. + +A Comparison between the Servian and other Slavonic Idioms. Vienna, +1822. + +A Specimen of a Translation of the New Testament into Servian. Vienna, +1824. + +{0k} Göthe, Ueber Kunst und Alterthum, V. ii. 40–42. + +{0l} Among all the Slavonic tribes, many vestiges of idolatry are yet +found. The songs with which a wedded pair are accompanied to and from +the church contain frequently allusions to _Lada_ (the Slavonian Venus), +and the bride wears a wreath of _wasilok_ and _ruta_ (evergreens), and is +called a _Queen_. + +{0m} Serbische Hochzeitslieder. Pest. 1826. + +{3} A ruined fortress on the banks of the river Morava. + +{7} _White_ is a favourite Slavonic appellation. In the Russian popular +ballad of “Vladimiz and his Round Table,” _White Kiev_ is the title +constantly given to that capital, and the lower Russians almost always +call Moscow, “Mother Moscow, the _white-walled_.” + +{9} “Thou in the Lord my sister,”—“Thou in God my brother,”—“Mother in +God,” are common Servian expressions. + +{15a} Predrag—the well-beloved. + +{15b} Nenad—the unhoped-for,—the unexpected. + +{25} Governor of a province—commander. + +{27} An extensive plain near the Narenta, in Herzegovina, on which is a +village of the same name. + +{28} I pay cheerful homage to the poetical beauties of the translation +of this ballad in “The Servian Minstrelsy,” quoted in the Quarterly +Review, No. LXIX. p. 71. The tasteful author has +no doubt greatly embellished the original; but the words in italics are +not to be found there. + + Stately was she, as the _mountain_ pine tree; + White and rosy-colour _intermingled_ + Were her cheeks, as _she had kiss’d_ the dawning; + _Dark and flashing_, like two noble jewels, + Were her eyes; _and over them were_ eyebrows, + _Thin and black_, like leeches _from the fountain_; + _Dark the lashes too_; _although the_ ringlets + _Hung above_ in clusters _rich and golden_. + _Softer_ were her eyelids _than_ the pinions + Of the swallow _on the breeze reposing_; + Sweeter were the maiden’s lips _than_ honey; + _White_ her teeth, as pearls _in ocean ripen’d_; + White her breasts, two little _panting_ wild doves; + _Soft_ her speaking, as the wild dove’s murmur; + _Bright_ her smiling, as the _burst_ of sunshine. + +{29a} In Bosnia, on the river Una. + +{29b} A town on the frontiers of Dalmatia. + +{32} Brother-in-law. The Servians have a number of words to express the +shades of relationship. _Brat_ is brother; _Sever_, the husband’s +brother; _Shura_, the wife’s brother; _Snaa_, the brother’s wife; +_Pobratim_, the adopted friend. + +{36a} A large commercial town on the river Narenta. + +{36b} “Salve!” the Mahommedan greeting. + +{38} A translation very slightly varying from Talvj’s is given by Göthe, +in his _Kunst und Alterthum_, Vol. V. ii. p. 60. + +{39} Ovo _j’glava_ jednog _gospodara_, the head of a Hospodar; man of +high rank. + +{40a} Scupi, in Macedonia. + +{40b} Vidin, a large fortress in Bulgaria, on the Danube. Nisha, a +large fortified city on the Servian frontier. + +{42a} Ipek, a city in Albania. + +{42b} Tzarigrader, Zarigrad, the city of the Tzar—Constantinople. The +four Greek patriarchs are those of Constantinople, Jerusalem, Antioch, +and Alexandria. Ipek (in Servia) was the fifth patriarchate, though the +first in the eyes of the Servians. Vassilenski is no other than +Constantinople (Vselenski), though constantly confounded by the +uninstructed. + +{43} All these are Sirmian convents. Krushedol was founded in 1509, by +Bishop Maximus Brankovicz, and is celebrated in many Servian legends. It +is famous for its collection of reliques. + +{44} A renowned convent built by the Tzar Lazar, on the Ressava. It was +destroyed by the Turks in 1435. + +{45} _Ban_, a title frequently used in Servia. Its general acceptation +is governor. It may be derived from _Pan_, the old Slavonic for _Lord_. + +{55} Conductors of the marriage festival. + +{57} The translation of this poem by Goethe, who disclaims any knowledge +of the original, is perfectly admirable. It first directed attention to +the literature of Servia. His account of it is as follows: “It is now +fifty years since I translated the Lament of the noble Bride of Hassan +Aga, which is found in the Travels of the Abbé Fortis, and in the +Morlachian Notices of the Countess Rosenberg. I rendered it from the +French version, preserving the rhythmus and the measure of the original.” +When Vuk printed his first collection of Servian songs, Goethe was +greatly delighted at finding it among them. It was omitted in his other +editions, because Vuk had not himself heard it in the Servian language; +and it was his determination to publish nothing for whose authenticity he +could not himself personally vouch. + +{58} A translation of this ballad, by Grimm, will be found in the fourth +volume of Goethe’s _Für Kunst und Alterthum_, p. 66. + +{59a} Kavavlashka. + +{59b} Karabogdanska. + +{62} Belgrad. + +{63} Chekmel-Juprija. + +{64a} Scutari. + +{64b} King, monarch. + +{64c} Governor. + + {65} Dok ne najesh dva slichna imena + Dok ne najesh _Stojy_ i _Stojana_. + +These are both Servian names, and the point of the ballad must be seen in +their affinity to the verb _stojiti_, to stand, _stojnitza_, standing +(statio). + +{74} Neimar.—Master. + +{75a} A small stream of liquid carbonate of lime is still shown on the +walls of Scutari, as evidence of the truth of this story. + +{75b} A translation of the poem by Grimm is to be found in the 2d part +of the fifth volume of the _Kunst und Altherthum_, p. 24, and Goethe +observes, that it is equally remarkable for its polish and for its +barbarously superstitious sentiment. It represents a human victim as +murdered in its most disgusting shape. A young woman is immured in order +that the fortress of Scutari may be built; and the sacrifice seems less +accountable, since oriental usages have generally only required the +entombment of consecrated pictures or talismans in order to make castles +and asylums impregnable. + +{76} The _Polje Kossova_. Amselfeld (German) or Field of Thrushes, was +the scene of Servia’s heaviest calamity, and is the subject of her most +melancholy songs. + +{77} A church in the camp. + +{81a} Gromovnik Ilija. + +{81b} I napija u slavu Ristovu. + +{84a} Erdelska Banitza. The wife of the seven-city’d (Transylvanian) +Ban. + +{84b} Kalpak—the Hungarian cap. + +{95a} Adrianople. + +{95b} A commercial town in Servian Macedonia, where Dushan built a +palace. It was the abode of Marko. + +{98} Grlo te boleto!—literally, “May thy neck ache!” + +{99} Starog Krvnika. + +{101} A large water vessel. + +{103} Sable cap. + +{104a} _Iguman_, _ἡγουμενος_. Hegumenos cœnobii. + +{104b} _Svetogortza_, Holy Mountain, Mount Athos. + +{105} Of the Servian heroes, _Marko_ (ob. 1392) is without comparison +the most illustrious. He (says Goethe) is represented as holding almost +equal intercourse with the Adrianople sultan, and appears like a coarser +representation of the Grecian Hercules or the Persian Rustan, though +indeed in a most Scythian and barbaric shape. He mounts a steed +(Sharaz), aged a century and a half, himself being three centuries old. +He perishes at last in all the plenitude of his strength; nor is it easy +to discover why. + +{106} There are other accounts of Marko’s death, which are more +accordant with historical records. Some state that he fell in a battle +between the Turks and the Wallachian Voivode Mirscheta, which took place +near the village of Rovine. Others say that he perished with his horse +in a morass, in Krania, not far from the Danube; and the morass is yet +pointed out, where the ruins of an old church are said to mark his +burial-place. Others narrate that he was miraculously conveyed away from +the field of battle above mentioned, to a mountain-cavern, where his +wounds were healed, and where he still lives.—Talvj, vol. i. p. 285. + +{112} Of this little poem, which Goethe calls “wonderful,” the following +is an almost literal translation:— + + Full of wine, white branches of the vine-trees + To white Buda’s fortress white had clung them: + No! it was no vine-tree, white and pregnant! + No! it was a pair of faithful lovers, + From their early youth betrothed together. + Now they are compell’d to part untimely. + One address’d the other at their parting, + “Go! my soul! burst out and leave my bosom! + Thou wilt find a hedge-surrounded garden, + And a red-rose branch within the garden; + Pluck a rose from off the branch, and place it, + Place it on thy heart, within thy bosom; + Then behold!—ev’n as that rose is fading, + Fades my heart within thy heart thou loved one!” + And thus answer’d then the other lover: + “Thou, my soul! turn back a few short paces. + There thou wilt discern a verdant forest; + In it is a fount of crystal water; + In the fount there is a block of marble; + On the marble block a golden goblet; + In the goblet thou wilt find a snow-ball. + Love! take out that snow-ball from the goblet, + Lay it on thy heart within thy bosom; + See it melt—and as it melts, my lov’d one! + So my heart within thy heart is melting.” + +{116} _Smilia_, the _grapharium arenarium_, or “lovely love.” Also a +woman’s name. + +{117} This song is sung at the close of the harvest, when all the +reapers are gathered together. Half as many reeds as the number of +persons present are so bound that no one can distinguish the two ends +which belong to the same reed. Each man takes one end of the reeds on +one side, each of the women takes one end at the other:—The withes that +bind the reeds are severed, and the couples that hold the same reed kiss +one another. + +{118} _Kalpak_—the fur cap of the Servians. + +{120a} This is one of the songs sung at the breaking up of the company, +addressed to the giver of the festival. + +{120b} Mushko chedo (male child). The male sex are in Servia, as +elsewhere, deemed entitled to more care and attention than the other. + +{122} Herzegovina. S. Sabba. + +{127a} Svszde, star, is of the feminine gender. + +{127b} Sun is feminine in Servian. + +{152} Smederevo—a Servian fortress on the Danube. + +{153} The _Leech_, _Sanguisuga_; but in Servian there is no disagreeable +association with the word. It is the name usually employed to describe +the beauty of the eyebrows, as swallows’ wings are the simile used for +eye-lashes. See p. 27. + +{157a} _Vishnia_, the universal Sclavonian name of the Vistula +cherry-tree. The _Cerasum apronianum_ of Linné. + +{157b} The Vila nearly corresponds to the _Peri_ of the Persians, and +the _Wöla_ of the Scandinavians. + +{157c} _Radisha_, is the name of a man. _Radovanic_—joy. + +{158} Lepota as the Servian word for _Beauty_. + +{168} I shall be accused of having _decorated_ this. The translation is +more free than I have generally given; but in order to show how little I +have deviated from the thoughts of the original, I give the conclusion. + + “Ako bi te u pjesmu pjevala, + Pjesma ide od usta do usta, + Pa che dochi u pogana usta; + Ako bi te u rukave vesla, + Rukav che se odma isderati, + Pa che tvoje ime poginuti; + Ako bi te u Knigu pisala + Kniga ide od ruke do ruke, + Pa che dochi u pogane ruke.” Vuk i. p. 200. + +{176} One of the distinguishing titles of the Vila is that here given; +_sabejam oblake_, the cloud-gatherer. Νεφεληγερετης, in the classical +mythology, is one of the names of Jupiter. + +{181a} Sarajevo—A large commercial city in Bosnia, on the river +Miljazka. + +{181b} The popular national dance of the Servians. + +{185a} Bosiljak—the _Ocimum basilicum_ of Linné. + +{185b} Sudija. + +{190a} _Kaloper_. Balsamita vulgaris. Linné. + +{190b} _Bosiljak_, see p. 185. + +{199} The cuckoo (kukavitza) according to Servian tradition, was a +maiden who mourned so unceasingly for a dead brother, that she was +changed into a bird, and thence continues without rest her melancholy +note. A Servian girl who has lost a brother never hears a cuckoo without +shedding tears.—“I a poor cuckoo,” is equivalent to “woe is me!” + +{206} Lado, the vocative of _Lada_, the goddess of love, in the old +Slavonian mythology. _Lado_! is a melancholy interjection in Servian, +whereas _Lele_! the vocative of Lela, the god of love, has frequently a +cheerful association: _Polela_ (after love), the goddess of marriage, is +also sometimes apostrophised. + +Talvj remarks, that _Ljad_, in Russ, signifies misfortune. In common +parlance, _Lele mene_ (Servian) imports Woe is me! + +{219} _Milinar_. The Miller. + +{231} Wesely imagines that this expression has got introduced into +Servian poetry by the influence of the interesting ballad on the marriage +of Maximus Tzernojevich (see Quarterly Review for Dec. 1826). The +intimate intercourse which existed between Servia and Venice may account +for the phraseology. + +{232} Original, _son-in-law_. I have only chosen a few of the songs +used during the marriage festival. But a volume might be filled with +them. Every step of the ceremony, which lasts many days, is accompanied +by music and poetry. A very interesting description of it will be found +in the introduction to Talvj’s second volume. + +{233} Aulimarama. + + + + +***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK SERVIAN POPULAR POETRY*** + + +******* This file should be named 39028-0.txt or 39028-0.zip ******* + + +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: +http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/3/9/0/2/39028 + + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, +set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to +copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to +protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. 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