I sought the dark wood where the oat gra.s.s was growing; The maidens were there and that oat gra.s.s were mowing.

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." [57]

"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.

"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 coa.r.s.e dialect, in which the German ballad may be heard, is that of the "Kuhlandchen," 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; "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:

"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.[58]

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 t.i.tle 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 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.[59]

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 n.o.bility. 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 cla.s.ses 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 n.o.bility, 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.

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 G.o.d'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 cla.s.sical 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 cla.s.ses 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 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.[60]

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?"

"I must not betray him, Lest my lord should slay me."

"Not his anger fear, Thou shalt stay not here, Thou shalt go with us."

"My lord's and lady's bower Is in the highest tower."

Once the Tartars shot, And they hit them not.

Twice the Tartars shot, And they killed the lord.

Thrice the Tartars shot-- They are breaking in the tower, The lady is in their power.