CLXIV

LAD PIERCED WITH ARROW[63]

Alas hero I'm with arrow pierced, O my Yetsa, thy white face is guilty, Thy black eye-b.a.l.l.s are the piercing arrows, Thy white arms are now a very torment.

Come, my love bird, to my white court homing, Come to heal my heart's own sore displeasure, To bind up my wounds with thy throat's whiteness, To salve suffering with thy honey kisses.

B. S. S.

CLXV

NOUGHT BUT KISSES[64]

Up and down went youth in mountain, In a garden, girl round fountain; On her threw he hawthorn red,-- Lightly answering, blackthorn sped,-- Think you they intend to kill?

Nought but kisses that they will.

B. S. S.

CLXVI

UNITED[65]

Little girl, the small black-eyed, Hero, wondering stupefied: 'Had we means of barter!

To lead us near together!

I my life long would not quit her, None could make our friendship wither.'

B. S. S.

CLXVII

GIRL PLEADS WITH JEWELLER[66]

Oh, my jeweller, for your trade's sake, listen!

Make me hero, all of gold my hero, I will spoil him, as his mother dares not, I will kiss him until dawns the twilight, Till day breaks ever will caress him.

B. S. S.

CLXVIII

WIFE DEARER THAN SISTER[67]

Lo! behold behind the forest Someone loudly screams-- "'Tis a voice," says youthful hero, "Girlish-like it seems."

When behold! he looked and spied her, Tiny girl, tree-bound they'd tied her, With fine silken seams.

Hear! she prays of youthful hero, dazzled by his might: "Come to me, thou youthful hero, O most beauteous, wonderknight.

Come to free me, youthful hero, and I'll be thy sister true."

Thus she spake, but laughing he, "O, there's one at home like you."

"Come to free me then, my brother; sister-in-law I'll be no other."

('But at home she sits by mother.') "Then I'll be thy golden bride.

Take me to thy meadows wide, Take me to thy castles white, Take me, take me from this plight."

So she spake to gallant lover, Hovering near and just above her, Clasps her in his arms to love her-- Such a gallant knight!

B. S. S.

CLXIX

GREATEST SORROW[68]

All young heroes here save mine, All young gallant heroes brave.

O! that I were sure he'd tarry, Lingering in some sickness grave, Rather than the wish to marry Sends him courting another maid.

O! may he be too ill to travel, May him dread illness cause to pine, Rather than to court another, Never, never to be mine.

B. S. S.

CLXX

YOUTH AND GIRL[69]

O maiden, thou gentlest rose When thou wert growing what didst thou behold?

Hast thou observed a pine-tree growing Or the slender, proud fir-tree blowing, Or did'st gaze at my youngest brother?--

O glad, young hero, brilliant Sun!

Never at the pine-tree blowing Have I look'd in wonder gazing Neither at the slender fir-tree, Nor thy youngest brother, free, Rather have I grown to suit thee, Tender knight, to suit but thee.

B. S. S.