x.x.xIV

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.

x.x.xV

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 pa.s.s 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.

x.x.xVI

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 n.o.ble 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.

x.x.xVII

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.

x.x.xVIII

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.

x.x.xIX

APPREHENSION

"Sweet maiden mine! thou blushing rose!

Sweet, blushing roselet mine!

For me, what thought of honey flows From those sweet lips of thine?"