HISTORICAL SONGS
PAN[[15]] KANOVSKY—SONG OF FEUDALISM
Bohuslav was Pan Kanovsky’s—Dancing there,
Bonderivna—as the Pava[[16]] she was fair.
Then he saw her, the wild pigeon, full of grace—
And she felt upon her cheek his embrace.
“Pan Kanovsky! You may take e’en my shoes
Off my feet.... But I kiss whom I choose!”
Then the good folk of the town whispered low:
“If thou dost not haste away cometh woe!”
Bonderivna’s o’er the bridge like the wind:
She has left the village houses far behind.
With drawn sabres two grim soldiers follow fast
Through the market-place ... poor pigeon! caught at last.
Pan Kanovsky’s silver musket pointed straight
At her heart.... And she chose then her fate.
“Bonderivna, tall and lovely, live with me,
Or as dung upon the earth you shall be!”
“Rather would I, Pan Kanovsky, fall and die,
Than in arms I loathe, like yours, ever lie!”
As she answered, so he fired—so she fell.
And her father, watching, moaned: “It is well,
“I die with thee, fairest maid of them all!”
And he dashed his white head ’gainst the wall.
Tolled the bells—wailing music cried aloud:
“Bonderivna, earth for aye is thy shroud!”
MARUSYA BOHUSLAVKA
(Duma)
On the Black Sea,
On a white rock,
Stood a stone prison:
Seven hundred Cossacks,
Unfortunate ones,
In this dungeon lay
These thirty years
Seeing not God’s world,
Nor the righteous sun upon their eyes:
(“Almighty God,
Save us, wretched ones,
From hard captivity,
From the Mohammedan faith!
Send us forth to the bright stars,
To the peaceful waters,
To the joyful land,
The Christian world.
Hear us, O God, in this our prayer!”)
To them the captive maiden,
Marusya Bohuslavka, Daughter of the Priest,
Came,
And said unto them:
“Hai, Cossacks!
Ye unfortunate captives,
Tell me—what day is it in Ukraine now?”
“Hai, captive maiden, Marusya Bohuslavka!
How may we know what day it is in Ukraine?
Are we not thirty years in captivity,
Seeing not God’s world,
Nor the blessed sun upon our eyes?
Because of this we know not what day it is in Ukraine now.”
Then the captive maid, Marusya Bohuslavka, Daughter of the Priest,
Said unto the Cossacks:
“Oi, Cossacks, ye unfortunates!
To-day in our land is Easter Even,
And to-morrow is the holy feast day of Easter!”
They bowed their white faces to the ground
And cursed her, Marusya, the captive maid:
“May God give thee, Daughter of the Priest,
Neither fortune nor happy fate
Since thou it was who told us what day had dawned in Ukraine!”
“Oi, Cossacks! ye unfortunate captives,
Swear not, curse not me:
When our Turkish Pasha goes to the Mosque
Then will I come to the dungeon
And I will throw wide the door
And release you all—unfortunate.”
On the first day of Easter,
When the Turkish Pasha went to the Mosque,
He gave the keys to the captive maid,
Marusya Bohuslavka, Daughter of the Priest.
She came and freed the captives,
And said unto them,
“Oi, Cossacks!
I say unto you—do what is right;
Flee to the cities of Ukraine.
But, I entreat you, pass not by
The town of Bohuslav.
See my mother and father;
Tell my father to sell not his herds,
To disperse not his wealth,
To heap up no more money
To free me from captivity,
Because I have become a Turk—Mohammedan—
For Turkish comfort, good life—unhappy pleasure!”