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.

x.x.x

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.

x.x.xI

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 impa.s.sioned 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.

x.x.xII

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.

x.x.xIII

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."