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Transcriber's Notes:
['c] represents accent over letter "c".
[vc] represents caron over letter "c".
[vs] represents caron over letter "s".
[vz] represents caron over letter "z".
Corrected mis-numbered footnote anchors.
Added close quote at end of line 8, poem I ...and others cursing."...
Removed open quote at beginning of a page break of poem IX.
Added period to end of poem XXI.
Added close quote to end of first stanza of poem XXIX.
Added final period to J. W. W. at end of poem CXXIV.
AN ANTHOLOGY OF
JUGOSLAV POETRY
SERBIAN LYRICS
EDITED BY
DR. B. STEVENSON STANOYEVICH
[Illustration: Printer's logo]
BOSTON
RICHARD G. BADGER
THE GORHAM PRESS
COPYRIGHT, 1920, BY RICHARD G. BADGER
All Rights Reserved
Made in the United States of America
The Gorham Press, Boston, U. S. A.
TRANSLITERATION OF UNUSUAL
JUGOSLAV SCRIPT:
a = a in father, garden
e = e in men, envoy
i = i in tin, ill
o = o in son, note
u = u in rule, rumor
j = y in yoke, yes
c = ts in cats, lots
lj = ly in William, million
dj = dy in endure, verdure
gj = gy in George
nj = ny in Kenyon, opinion
[vc] = tch in watch, catch
['c] = ch in culture, literature
[vs] = sh in ship, shade
[vz] = zh in azure, seizure
d[vz] = dzh in Badger, or j in James
The rest of the letters correspond to the English sounds.
PREFACE
"Give me the making of a nation's songs, and let who will make their
laws," was the maxim of a Scottish patriot. We would prefer to modify
this rule, and say, "Give us the poems which the people make for
themselves, and then we shall obtain a clear insight into the national
character and learn what customs and laws they are likely to accept or
reject." Folk-songs are the intimate expressions of the ideas of the
people. What the comic drama is to the cultured, and the music-hall to
the ill-educated portions of urban population, the popular song has
been, and in some countries still is, to the rural peasantry, a true
exponent of their sentiments, though too frequently inaccurate in
statements of facts. Critics, as is well known, have censured Lord
Macaulay for his indiscriminate adoption of the vulgar and often
malignant rhapsodies sung in the streets of London. But the Russian
_bylina_, collected by Danilov, Rybnikov, Sreznevsky and others, may be
taken as furnishing unimpeachable evidence of the state of Russia during
the invasions of the Mongols and Turks. The Jacobite poems give us the
real feelings of the people of Scotland for nearly an entire century.
The popular and rustic strains which are handed down from the reign of
Henry III have rehabilitated the memory of Simon de Montfort. Moore's
Irish melodies, originally composed for the delectation of English
aristocrats, have been so generally admired in his native land that they
exhibit pretty clear indications of what the Irish patriots would like
to do if they had the power. And the battle-hymn by Rouget de Lisle is
not only popular in France, but has recently been sung by the Russian
bolsheviki when marching to occupy Tsarskoe Selo and other imperial
lands.
The songs to which the English form has been given in the following
volume have been taken mostly from Vuk Karad[vz]i['c]'s invaluable
collection: _Srpske Narodne Pjesme_ (Serbian National Songs).
Karad[vz]i['c], of whom the literary world has heard so much, is the
father of modern Serbian literature. He spent many years among the
peasants in collecting the national treasures: ballads, tales, proverbs,
anecdotes and other folklore. Before his time the songs had never been
reduced to written form, and were kept out of reach of the public ear.
He was only able to hear them partly because of a ruse and partly in
secret, when he listened with inexhaustible patience to the girls
spinning, or the _guslars_ (bards) trolling in taverns and at fairs, or
the reapers chanting at their work. In the preface of his first book of
_Srpske Narodne Pjesme_ Karad[vz]i['c] tells us that in Serbia two sorts
of popular poetry exist--the historical ballads, and popular songs of a
character which caused them to be described as _[vz]enske pjesme_
(women's songs) chanted by country folk, both men and women and mostly
in duet. It is the latter, _[vz]enske pjesme_, which having been
translated into English are gathered together in the following
anthology, _Serbian Lyrics_.
Sir John Bowring, who unveiled to his countrymen the rich treasures of
Slavic popular songs in general, is also distinguished by being the
pioneer to point out the Serbian in particular. But the claims, which
we, at the present day, feel ourselves entitled to make on a translator,
are very different from those current in Bowring's time. Correctness and
fidelity are now considered necessary requisites in a good translation,
just as antiquarian exactness is expected in the publication of an old
manuscript.
Jugoslav lyric poetry is divided into several groups, as, for instance,
one grouping contains poems concerning marriage. These songs tell of the
beauty of the bride, of her joy and sorrow before departure from the
home of her parents, as well as her feelings upon other occasions during
wedlock. There are poems belonging to the group of bacchanalian songs,
pronounced during the toast, and resounding with many refrains. Then
there are lamentations (_tu[vz]balice_) which are mostly provincial,
from Montenegro and Dalmatia. They are also accompanied by refrains,
expressing sorrow after the death of some loved one, and extolling the
virtues of the deceased, or the great misfortune felt by those left
behind. All this emotion is described very fitly and in a touching
manner. Further, there are poems commemorating the holy seasons and
"red-letter days," as _sve[vc]arske pjesme_ sung on the _Slava_
celebration of some _svetac_ (saint). To the same grouping belong
Christmas poems hailing the glory of the Christ, and depicting the
customs of that season (_koledo_). Saints, such as Sts. John, George,
Peter, and others, have their own eulogies. There are besides poems
exalting the Holy Ghost (_kralji[vc]ke pjesme_). _Dodole_, which
originated from old customs of heathenism, are sung during the summer
droughts. Others are reapers' songs, mostly sung at _prelo_ time (social
gatherings). There are poems that are connected neither with marriage,
nor death, nor harvests, but which treat of mythological or religious
subjects; they are called _pobo[vz]ne_, describing the spiritual virtues
of the Virgin, or the Christ, or the apostles. Here are also to be found
humoristic and satirical compositions, directed against women, or
especially against monks, widows, and old bachelors. They are as a rule
sprightly songs and piquant, pleasant and witty.
Critics who have written of the Serbian national songs declare that they
are characterized by extreme delicacy both of feeling and workmanship,
and that they are noble in their childlike purity, simple treatment of,
and sympathy with, every phase of natural human experience. But these
Serbian songs have quite a peculiar character of their own. They are
directly, passionately, fiercely human, and rich with poetic sympathy.
Love, glory, sorrow, death--are the themes constantly handled in a
thousand weird and poetic phrases. There is a strong Indian flavor of
the joy of rest in Mother Earth; and again, a keen thirst for the fight
which smacks of the men who lived with Moslems around them. Although
these chants occasionally recall something of the martial lilt of old
Spanish ballads, they have an individual original turn which cannot be
compared with any extant popular poetry. They have the uncanny mystery
of the Celtic tales of love in death, which is very rare.
The love songs of the Jugoslav lands have a dreamy, calm and exalted
sweetness that reminds us of the Alps and the Cevennes. Among these the
Bosnian _sevdalinke_ (love songs of Bosnia) are especially worthy of
remark, for they are full of emotion, yearning and tender passion. The
greater warmth of the songs of Herzegovina and Montenegro is owing more
to the sonorous language than to any superiority in melody. Here are
mostly to be found _tu[vz]balice_. As to Dalmatia, Croatia and Slovenia,
their melodies are chiefly marked by simplicity and a feeling for the
domestic side of life. Ba[vc]ka and Banat, blessed with much open air
and sunshine, possess no love-songs in the strict sense of the term; but
they have _serenade_ and _posko[vc]ice_, although for these there is
little or no original melody. To the light-minded and bright-witted
singers of these provinces imagination is easier than memory.
A country very rich in melody is Serbia. Here one may find a truer and
more intense musical feeling, a stronger love of the soil, and more
sincere devotion to the beauty of nature, especially of spring and
summer, than in any other part of Jugoslavia. The love songs of Serbia
seem to have a special inspiration of their own. We may hear the
shepherds singing in green pastures and among the fir-woods, or in the
silence of the mountains. From the vineyards, from the fair and dances,
and from the daily round of work the strains arise. Everywhere that
youth is seen a poem is heard, and every occupation is accompanied by a
song.
We cannot, however, leave this part of our subject without mentioning
some of the burlesque poems, which the Jugoslavs possess in great
number, partly narrative and partly lyric. The Americans are accustomed
to think of the Jugoslavs and their kinsmen as grave and sombre, or,
when their passions are excited, prone to deeds of tragic violence.
Those who are better acquainted with them know full well that they are
as loquacious and sarcastically sportive in their social gatherings as
any nation, and many of their verses are redolent of these qualities.
They display all the gradations of the comic, from the diverting
simplicity of the innocent confession of an enamoured girl, together
with the ludicrous situation and disappointed vanity of her cheated
lover, up to a strain of bitter satire and merciless irony. Poems marked
by that simplicity which borders between the touching and the humorous
are also represented in this volume. Such is the song, "Trouble with the
Husband":
I married last year,
This year I repent.
Bad husband have I,
With temper like nettle:
My lot I resent.
The frost kills the nettle,
But this husband of mine,
He thinks the frost fine:
By the stove all day long
He does nothing but sit,
And says that the frost
He minds not one bit!
In Celovec 'tis market-day,
'Tis market-day to-morrow;
I will take my husband there,
And will either there him change,
Or else will sell him at the fair.
Not too cheap I'll let him go,
Because he was so hard to get;
Rather than too cheaply sell him,
Back home again I'll take the man,
And love him--howsomuch I can!
The western world has already heard of the rich mine of Jugoslav
folk-literature. Nevertheless, comparatively speaking, only a very small
number have been translated into English. The extreme simplicity of
these verses, the peculiar character of the Serbian language, with its
melodiously protracted words, its pompously sonorous sounds, and its
harmonious diffuseness, all render it exceedingly difficult to translate
Serbian lyrics without encountering the danger of making constant
additions; especially when rendering it into a language with so many
monosyllabic words, and so philosophically condensed, as the English.
MILIVOY STANOYEVICH.
New York, 1920.
TABLE OF CONTENTS
POEMS TRANSLATED BY
SIR JOHN BOWRING
CHAPTER PAGE
I. THE CURSE 21
II. FAREWELL 23
III. THE VIOLET 24
IV. SMILIA 24
V. HARVEST SONG 25
VI. MAIDEN'S PRAYER 25
VII. KISSES 26
VIII. HARVEST SONG 27
IX. CURSE 27
X. SALUTATION OF THE MORNING STAR 28
XI. THE KNITTER 29
XII. ROYAL CONVERSE 30
XIII. ROSA 31
XIV. THE MAIDEN AND THE SUN 31
XV. THE MAIDEN'S WISH 32
XVI. THE FALCON 33
XVII. DEER AND VILA 34
XVIII. VIRGIN AND WIDOW 35
XIX. NIGHTINGALES 36
XX. THE RING 37
XXI. FRATRICIDE 38
XXII. LOVE 40
XXIII. MAPLE TREE 40
XXIV. SEMENDRIAN BEAUTY 41
XXV. SELF-ADMIRATION 42
XXVI. ASSIGNATION 42
XXVII. FOOLISH VOW 43
XXVIII. VILAS 43
XXIX. LEPOTA 44
XXX. IMPRECATIONS 45
XXXI. SECRETS DIVULGED 46
XXXII. WISHES 47
XXXIII. LOVER ASLEEP 47
XXXIV. EARLY SORROWS 48
XXXV. THE YOUNG SHEPHERDS 49
XXXVI. THOUGHTS OF A MOTHER 51
XXXVII. COUNSEL 52
XXXVIII. DESOLATION 52
XXXIX. APPREHENSION 53
XL. MILICA 54
XLI. THE CHOICE 55
XLII. FOR WHOM? 55
XLIII. LIBERTY 56
XLIV. THE DANCE 57
XLV. ELEGY 58
XLVI. INQUIRY 59
XLVII. DOUBT 60
XLVIII. THE SULTANESS 61
XLIX. BETROTHING 61
L. CAUTIONS 62
LI. MAIDEN'S CARES 63
LII. MOHAMMEDAN SONG 65
LIII. MINE EVERYWHERE 65
LIV. MAID AWAKING 67
LV. MOTHER'S LOVE 67
LVI. THE GREYBEARD 68
LVII. MOHAMMEDAN TALE 69
LVIII. LOVE'S DIFFICULTIES 71
LIX. WITCHES 72
LX. PLEDGES 72
LXI. COMPLAINT 73
LXII. SONG 74
LXIII. MOHAMMEDAN SONG 74
LXIV. BROTHERLESS SISTERS 75
LXV. MISFORTUNES 76
LXVI. TIMIDITY 77
LXVII. YOUTH ENAMOURED 78
LXVIII. BLACK EYES AND BLUE 79
LXIX. THE WIDOW 80
LXX. ALARMS 80
LXXI. FOND WIFE 81
LXXII. UNHAPPY BRIDE 81
LXXIII. LAST PETITION 82
LXXIV. LOVE FOR A BROTHER 83
LXXV. REBUKE 84
LXXVI. MAN'S FAITH 85
LXXVII. MAIDEN'S AFFECTION 85
LXXVIII. MARRIAGE SONGS 86
LXXIX. HEROES SERVED 89
LXXX. YOUTH AND AGE 89
LXXXI. CHOICE 90
LXXXII. ANXIETY 91
LXXXIII. INQUIRY 91
LXXXIV. FROZEN HEART 92
LXXXV. UNION IN DEATH 92
POEMS TRANSLATED BY
EARL OF LYTTON (OWEN MEREDITH)
LXXXVI. LOVE AND SLEEP 93
LXXXVII. LOVE CONFERS NOBILITY 95
LXXXVIII. A SOUL'S SWEETNES 95
LXXXIX. REMINISCENCES 96
XC. SLEEP AND DEATH 97
XCI. IMPERFECTION 98
XCII. EMANCIPATION 99
XCIII. PLUCKING A FLOWER 100
XCIV. A WISH 102
XCV. A SERBIAN BEAUTY 102
XCVI. SLEEPLESSNESS 103
XCVII. A MESSAGE 104
XCVIII. TRANSPLANTING A FLOWER 104
XCIX. ISOLATION 105
C. FATIMA AND MEHMED 106
POEMS TRANSLATED BY
J. W. WILES, M.A.
CI. MORAVA HORSES 107
CII. THE GIRL AND THE GRASS 108
CIII. THE SUN AND THE GIRL 108
CIV. CURSE AND BLESSING 109
CV. THE NICEST FLOWER IN THE WORLD 110
CVI. THE PRETTY TOMB 111
CVII. TODA AND HER FATE 112
CVIII. THE VILA 113
CIX. THREE ROSES 113
CX. HER DREAM 114
CXI. TROUBLE WITH THE HUSBAND 115
CXII. THE PEACOCK AND THE NIGHTINGALE 116
CXIII. THE FIRST TOAST 116
CXIV. THE HOD[VZ]A 117
CXV. WOES 118
CXVI. HARD TO BELIEVE 119
CXVII. THE CONDITIONS 119
CXVIII. PRAYER BEFORE GOING TO BED 120
CXIX. VISION BEFORE SLEEP 120
CXX. PRAYER IN THE FIELD 121
CXXI. A CHILD IN HEAVEN 121
CXXII. CHRISTMAS 122
CXXIII. CHRIST THINKS OF HIS MOTHER 123
CXXIV. THE BLESSED MARY AND JOHN THE BAPTIST 124
CXXV. THE HOLY MOTHER 125
CXXVI. DREAM OF THE HOLY VIRGIN 126
CXXVII. MOTHER AT THE TOMB OF HER SON 127
CXXVIII. MOTHER OVER HER DEAD SON 128
CXXIX. MOTHER'S LAMENT FOR HER SON 129
CXXX. GREATEST GRIEF FOR A BROTHER 130
CXXXI. THE DEATH CHAMBER OF HER FATHER-IN-LAW 131
CXXXII. KOLEDO 132
CXXXIII. A HORSE'S COMPLAINT 133
CXXXIV. A DANCE AT VIDIN 134
CXXXV. THE PRICE 135
CXXXVI. PREFERENCES 135
CXXXVII. A BRIDE'S DEVOTION 136
CXXXVIII. FIDELITY 136
CXXXIX. A SISTER'S LAMENT 137
POEMS TRANSLATED BY
BEATRICE STEVENSON STANOYEVICH, Ph.D.
CXL. THE PRAYER OF KARAGEORGE'S LADY 138
CXLI. THOU ART EVER, EVER MINE 139
CXLII. SEA MERCHANT 139
CXLIII. ANGELA AS WATCHMAN 140
CXLIV. A LAD AND HIS BETROTHED 140
CXLV. DIREFUL SICKNESS 141
CXLVI. ALL AS IT SHOULD BE 141
CXLVII. BEAUTY PREENS HERSELF 141
CXLVIII. HARVEST SONG 142
CXLIX. LONG NIGHTS 142
CL. EYEBROW LURE 143
CLI. GIRLHOOD 143
CLII. YOUTH WITH YOUTH 144
CLIII. COME MY LOVER, TO ME 144
CLIV. SIGHS 145
CLV. A BOUQUET OF LITTLE ROSES 145
CLVI. DREAM INTERPRETATION 146
CLVII. WITH SWEETHEART NIGHTS ARE SHORTEST 146
CLVIII. DAWN AWAKENED LAZAR 148
CLIX. A DEVILISH YOUNG MATRON 148
CLX. GIRL IS ETERNAL POSSESSION 149
CLXI. JOVO AND MARIA 150
CLXII. ROSE TREE 150
CLXIII. DARLING'S WRATH 151
CLXIV. LAD PIERCED WITH ARROW 151
CLXV. NOUGHT BUT KISSES 152
CLXVI. UNITED 152
CLXVII. GIRL PLEADS WITH JEWELLER 152
CLXVIII. WIFE DEARER THAN SISTER 153
CLXIX. GREATEST SORROW 154
CLXX. YOUTH AND GIRL 154
I
THE CURSE[1]
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!
Mihailo 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;[2]
Her sister's nine fair daughters grew;
And madness seized them,--seized them all:
Mihailo,--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!"
S. J. B.
II
FAREWELL[3]
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 of rose-flower tear,
Then place it on thy bosom bare;
And as its leaflets 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!"
S. J. B.
III
THE VIOLET[4]
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.
S. J. B.
IV
SMILIA[5]
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.'"
S. J. B.
V
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 Paraskeva, the saint of to-day!
Now loosen your hands--now loosen, and see
Who the kissers and kiss'd of the reapers shall be.[6]
S. J. B.
VI
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 Ger[vc]i['c] Manoilo.
If the otter on his knee is playing--
If the falcon sits upon his shoulder--
If the rose is blooming on his kalpak."[7]
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 Ger[vc]i['c] Manoilo:
Saw the otter on his knees disporting:
Saw the falcon sitting on his shoulder:
Saw the rose upon his kalpak blooming.
S. J. B.
VII
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.
S. J. B.
VIII
HARVEST SONG
Lord and master! let us homewards, let us homewards haste:
Far, far distant are our dwellings--far across the waste.[8]
Some have aged mothers threat'ning--"Ne'er allow another:"
Some male-children[9] in the cradle, crying for their mother;
Some impatient lovers chiding;--dearer they than brother.
S. J. B.
IX
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.[10]
'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."
X
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 Hercegovina,
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 Hercegovina
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."
S. J. B.
XI
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[11] should wear thee, I
The coarsest worsted would inweave,
Thy finest silk for dog-grass leave,
And all thy knots with nettles tie."
XII
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 the nettles under the sky.
S. J. B.
XIII
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."
S. J. B.
XIV
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[12] 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![13]
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."
S. J. B.
XV
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.
S. J. B.
XVI
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."
S. J. B.
XVII
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'er take her."
S. J. B.
XVIII
VIRGIN AND WIDOW
Over Sarajevo flies a falcon,
Looking round for cooling shade to cool him.
Then he finds a pine on Sarajevo;
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:
"Sarajevo! 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."
S. J. B.
XIX
NIGHTINGALES
All the night two nightingales were singing
At the window of th'affianced maiden;
And th'affianced maiden thus address'd 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 brothers' 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."
S. J. B.
XX
THE RING
The streamlet ripples through the mead, beneath the maple tree;
There came a maiden 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."
S. J. B.
XXI
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."
S. J. B.
XXII
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!"
S. J. B.
XXIII
MAPLE TREE
O thou brotherly maple tree!
Wilt thou be a friend to me?
Be a brother, and 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!
S. J. B.
XXIV
SEMENDRIAN BEAUTY
Lovely maiden of Semendria!
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 _pijavica_?[14]
Like it are the maiden's eye-brows.
S. J. B.
XXV
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."
S.J.B.
XXVI
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.
S.J.B.
XXVII
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,
If one sweet kiss were free."
S.J.B.
XXVIII
VILAS
Vi[vs]nja,[15] lovely vi[vs]nja!
Lift thy branches higher;
For beneath thy branches,
Vilas[16] dance delight:
While Radi[vs]a[17] 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."
S. J. B.
XXIX
LEPOTA[18]
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 drought of sweet waters 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 hazelwood 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 it refreshment has made."
S. J. B.
XXX
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!"
S. J. B.
XXXI
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!"
S. J. B.
XXXII
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!
S. J. B.
XXXIII
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 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."
XXXIV
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 dig 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.
S. J. B.
XXXV
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?[19]
S. J. B.
XXXVI
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."
S. J. B.
XXXVII
COUNSEL
"My Misho! tell me, tell me, pray,
Where wert thou wandering yesterday?"
"I did not ramble--did not roam;
A wretched headache 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!"
S. J. B.
XXXVIII
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!
S. J. B.
XXXIX
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.'
S. J. B.
XL
MILICA
Long and lovely are Milica'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 Milica,--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 Milica.
She still look'd on the green grass, untrembling,
While the maidens trembled as they whisper'd:
"O Milica! 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 Milica gave this quiet answer:
"I am neither overwise nor silly.
Not the _Vila,_ nor the cloud-upgatherer;
I am yet a maid--and look before me."
S. J. B.
XLI
THE CHOICE
He slept beneath a poplar tree:
And three young maidens cross'd the way;
I listen'd 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.'
S. J. B.
XLII
FOR WHOM?
Sweet fountain, that so freshly flows!
And thou, my own carnation-rose,
That shines 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? who 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!
S. J. B.
XLIII
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! betides us,
Friend from friend divided,
Bird from forest banish'd!"
S. J. B.
XLIV
THE DANCE
Omar's court is near to Sarajevo;
All around it is a woody mountain:
In the midst there is a verdant meadow;
There the maidens dance their joyous Kolo[20]
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 spring time!
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?"
S. J. B.
XLV
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 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."
S. J. B.
XLVI
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.
And 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."
S.J.B.
XLVII
DOUBT
Three young travellers travell'd forth to travel:
On their travels met a lovely maiden:
Each will give the lovely maiden a present:
One presents her with a fresh-pluck'd apple:
One presents her with _bosiljak_[21] flowering:
One a gold ring for the maiden's finger.
He who gave the maiden the _bosiljak_
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 together:
He shall say to whom belongs the maiden."