Why, when blown out, frozen?

Why, when frozen, withered?

Withered, broken from the stem!


Late at night I sat and sat,

Sat until the cocks did crow;

No one came, although I waited

Till the pine-torch all burned low.


Then came slumber over me;

And I dreamed my golden ring
[pg.387]


Sudden slipp'd from my right hand;

Down my precious diamond fell.

For the ring I looked in vain,

For my love I longed in vain!



II.
[379]


O, ye forests, dark green forests,

Miletinish forests!

Why in summer and in winter,

Are ye green and blooming?

O! I would not weep and cry,

Nor torment my heart.

But now tell me, good folks, tell me,

How should I not cry?

Ah! where is my dear good father?

Wo! he deep lies buried.

Where my mother? O good mother!

O'er her grows the grass!

Brothers have I not, nor sisters,

And my lad is gone!


SERVIAN SONG.[380]

O my fountain, so fresh and cool,

O my rose, so rosy red!

Why art thou blown out so early?

None have I to pluck thee for!

If I plucked thee for my mother,

Ah! poor girl, I have no mother;

If I plucked thee for my sister,

Gone is my sister with her husband;

If I plucked thee for my brother,
[pg.388]


To the war my brother's gone.

If I plucked thee for my lover,

Gone is my love so far away!

Far away o'er three green mountains,

Far away o'er three cool fountains!


PASSAGES FROM SEVERAL RUSSIAN BALLADS.

current at the present day.


I.

Last evening I sat, a young maid,

I sat till deep in the night;

I sat and waited till day-break,

Till all my pine-torch was burnt out.

While all my companions slept,

I sat and waited for thee; love!



II.


No good luck to me my dream forebodes;

For to me, to me, fair maid, it seemed,

On my right hand did my gold ring burst,

O'er the floor then rolled the precious stone.

The Bohemians preserved their nationality, and very probably with it their ancient popular songs, down to the seventeenth century. During the thirty years' war, of which Bohemia was in part almost uninterruptedly the seat, a complete revolution in manners, institutions, and localities, took place. Whole villages emigrated, or were driven into the wide world, wandering about in scattered groups as fugitives and mendicants. Most of the ancient songs may have died at that time. The German influence increased rapidly during the remainder of the seventeenth century, mostly by force and reluctantly; still more during the[pg.389] eighteenth century by habit, intermarriages, education, etc. The Bohemians, the most musical nation in the world, are still a singing people; but many of their ditties are evidently borrowed from the German; in others, invented by themselves, they exhibit a spirit entirely different from that of their ancestors. These modern songs are mostly rhymed. The following specimen of songs still current among the peasantry of Bohemia, will show well the harmless, playful, roguish spirit that pervades them.


THE FORSAKEN MAIDEN.

Little star with gloomy shine,

If thou couldst but cry!

If thou hadst a heart, my star,

Sparks would from thee fly,

Just as tears fall from mine eye.


All the night with golden sparks

Thou wouldst for me cry!

Since my love intends to wed,

Only 'cause another maid

Richer is than I.


LIBERAL PAY.

Flowing waters meet each other,

And the winds, they blow and blow;

Sweetheart with her bright blue eyes

Stands and looks from her window.


Do not stand so at the window,

Rather come before the door;

If thou giv'st me two sweet kisses,

I will give thee ten and more.
[pg.390]


HAPPY DEATH.

In a green grove

Sat a loving pair;

Fell a bough from above,

Struck them dead there.

Happy for them,

That both died together;

So neither was left,

To mourn for the other.


THE LYING BIRD.

What chatters there the little bird,

On the oak tree above?

It sings, that every maid in love

Looks pale and wan from love.


My little bird, thou speak'st not true,

A lie hast thou now said;

For see, I am a maid in love,

And am not pale, but red.


Take care, my bird; because thou liest,

I now must punish thee;

I take this gun, I load this gun,

And shoot thee from the tree.

In the following fine ballad the German influence is manifest. It is extant in two different texts. We give it in Bowring's version, which has less of amplification and embellishment than is usual in English translations.


THE DEAD LOVE.

I sought the dark wood where the oat grass was growing;

The maidens were there and that oat grass were mowing.
[pg.391]


And I called to those maidens: "Now say if there be

The maiden I love 'midst the maidens I see?"


And they sighed as they answered: "Ah no! alas no!

She was laid in the bed of the tomb long ago."
[381]


"Then show me the way where my footsteps must tread,

To reach that dark chamber, where slumber the dead."


"The path is before thee, her grave will be known,

By the rosemary wreaths her companions have thrown."


"And where is the church in church-yard, whose heaps

Will point out the bed where the blessed one sleeps?"


So twice to the church-yard in sadness I drew,

But I saw no fresh heap and no grave that was new.


I turned, and with heart-chilling terror I froze,

And a newly made grave at my feet slowly rose.


And I heard a low voice, but it audibly said,

"Disturb not, disturb not the sleep of the dead!


"Who treads on my bosom? what footsteps have swept

The dew from the bed where the weary one slept?"


"My maiden, my maiden, so speak not to me,

My presents were once not unwelcome to thee!"


"Thy presents were welcome, but none could I save,

Not one could I bring to the stores of the grave.


"Go thou to my mother, and bid her restore

To thy hands every gift which I valued before.


"Then fling the gold ring in the depth of the sea,

And eternity's peace shall be given to me.
[pg.392]


"And sink the white kerchief deep, deep in the wave,

That my head may repose undisturbed in the grave!"

The Slovaks, the Slavic inhabitants of the north-western districts of Hungary, are considered, as we have seen above, as the direct descendants of the first Slavic settlers in Europe. Although for nearly a thousand years past they have formed a component part of the Hungarian nation, they have nevertheless preserved their language and many of their ancient customs. Their literature, we know, is not to be separated from that of the Bohemians. Their popular effusions are original; although, likewise, between them and the popular poetry of their Bohemian brethren, a close affinity cannot be denied. The Slovaks are said to be still exceedingly rich in pretty and artless songs, both pensive and cheerful; but the original Slavic type is now very much effaced from them. The surrounding nations, and above all the Germans, have exercised a decided and lasting influence upon them.

The following ballads are still heard among the Slovaks. The first of them is also extant in an imperfect German shape. As the coarse dialect, in which the German ballad may be heard, is that of the "Kuhländchen," a small district of Silesia, where the Slavic neighbourhood has not been without influence, we have no doubt that the more complete Slavic ballad is the original.

THE MOTHER'S CURSE.


The maiden went for water,

To the well o'er the meadow away;

She there could draw no water,

So thick the frost it lay.


The mother she grew angry;

She had it long to bemoan;
[pg.393]

"O daughter mine, O daughter,

I would thou wert a stone!"


The maiden's water-pitcher

Grew marble instantly;

And she herself, the maiden,

Became a maple tree.


There came one day two lads,

Two minstrels young they were;

"We've travelled far, my brother,

Such a maple we saw no where.


"Come let us cut a fiddle,

One fiddle for me and you;

And from the same fine maple,

For each one, fiddlesticks two."


They cut into the maple,—

There splashed the blood so red;

The lads fell on the ground,

So sore were they afraid.


Then spake from within the maiden:

"Wherefore afraid are you?

Cut out of me one fiddle,

And for each one, fiddlesticks two.


"Then go and play right sadly,

To my mother's door begone,

And sing: Here is thy daughter,

Whom thou didst curse to stone."


The lads they went, and sadly

Their song to play began;

The mother, when she heard them,

Right to the window ran:
[pg.394]


"O lads, dear lads, be silent,

Do not my pain increase;

For since I lost my daughter,

My pain doth never cease!"

SUN AND MOON.


Ah! if but this evening

Would come my lover sweet,

With the bright, bright sun,

Then the moon would meet.


Ah! poor girl this evening

Comes not thy lover sweet;

With the bright, bright sun,

The moon doth never meet.

The reader will perceive that these Slovakian songs are rhymed. There are however also rhymeless verses extant among them; the measure of which seems to indicate a greater antiquity, and brings them nearer to the nations of the Eastern stock.[382]

Of all the Slavic nations, the POLES, as we have already remarked, had most neglected their popular poetry. There were indeed several collections of popular ballads published, partly by Polish editors, with the title of popular poetry in Poland. But they all, without exception, so far as we know, refer to the Ruthenian peasantry in Poland, who use a language different from the Polish, and essentially the same as the Malo-Russian. These tribes, inhabitants of Poland for centuries, may indeed be[pg.395] called Poles with perfect propriety. Yet this name is in a more limited sense applied to the Lekhian race exclusively; and it is in respect to them that we remarked above, that their songs had been collected for the first time only a few years ago.[383]

That they also had national ballads of their own could hardly be a matter of doubt; and the neglect may easily be explained, in a nation among whom all that has any reference to mere boors and serfs has always been regarded with the utmost contempt. Their beautiful national dances, however, known all over the world, the graceful Polonaise, the bold Masur, the ingenious Cracovienne, are just as much the property of the peasantry, as of the nobility. Their dances were formerly always accompanied by singing; just as it was customary in olden times every where, and as it is still the usage among the Russian and Servian peasantry, to dance to the music of song instead of instruments. But these songs are always extemporized; and in Poland probably were never written down. The early refinement of the language secured to the upper classes a greater or lesser share in their national literature, which gave them apparently better things; although we have seen above, that, far from developing itself from its own resources, their literature was alternately ingrafted on a Latin, Italian, or French stock. Among the country gentry, and even at the convivial parties of the nobility, the custom of extemporizing songs, probably full of national reminiscences, continued even down to the beginning of our own century. Very little stress was naturally laid upon them; since the interest for all that is national, historical, or in any way connected with the people, belongs only to the most recent times. In our day, the local scenes of Lithuania have excited some interest, and the Ukraine has become the favourite theatre of Polish poets.[pg.396]

The Polish nation has an ancient hymn, which may be said to belong in some measure to popular poetry. It is known under the name of Boga Rodzica, or God's Mother; and is said to have been composed by St. Adalbert, who lived at the end of the tenth century. According to Niemcewicz, the Polish poet, it was still chanted in the year 1812 in the churches of Kola and Gnesen, the places where St. Adalbert lived and died. It is a prayer to the Virgin, ending with a sixfold Amen; and was formerly sung by the soldiers when advancing to battle. For that reason probably we find it frequently called a war song.

The popular ballads, published by Woicicki and Zegota Pauli, are not distinguished in any way from those still extant among the Slovakians, Bohemians, and Lusatian Sorabians. It can only be matter of surprise, that they have imbibed no more of the wild and romantic character of the ballads sung by the Ruthenians, with whom they live intermingled in several regions. They are ruder in form; and alternately rhymed, or distinguished from prose only by a certain irregular but prosodic measure, sometimes trochaic, but mostly dactylic. With the classical beauty of the Servian songs they can bear no comparison; in which latter the perfect absence of vulgarity may perhaps be partly accounted for, by their having been produced among a people where no privileged classes exist. Only in their wedding songs, and other similar ones, is there a striking affinity; it is in general in these relics of ancient times, that the popular poetry of the nations of the Eastern and of the Western Stems meet in one distinct and fundamental accord.

Many of the more ancient ballads extant among the Poles we find also in one or other of the Western Slavic languages. For example, the following; which exists in the Vendish language in a shape more diffuse and twice as long; and also in Slovakian, still more sketchlike. That the Polish ballad is derived from a time, when the horrid invasions of the Tartars[pg.397] were at least still distinctly remembered, we may safely conclude. In the Slovakian ballad the invaders are called Turks; in the Vendish ballad, probably the latest of the three, they have lost all individual nationality, and have become merely "enemies," or "robbers."

THE INVASION OF THE TARTARS.
[384]


Plundering are the Tartars,

Plundering Jashdow castle.


All the people fled,

Only a lad they met.


"Where's thy lord, my lad?

Where and in what tower

Is thy lady's bower?"