O thou lovely maiden! Lo! thy praise has mounted To the monarch's city Maiden! thou hast planted The six-branch'd kaloper[[23]] And bosilka early. But the youths unmarried Long have been in waiting To tear up thy balsam— Thy bosilka pillage. Know'st thou not they linger Just to steal thy kisses? Maiden! Maiden! never Let those youths betray thee! S. J. B.
LI
MAIDEN'S CARES
O sleep! sweet sleep! in vain, in vain I bid thee visit me: The anxious thought disturbs my brain— Whose shall the maiden be? My mother says, "The goatherd, child! The goatherd, child! for thee." Nay, mother, nay! not he, not he; That were no happiness for me: He tracks the mountains steep and wild Where rocks and dangers be.
O sleep! sweet sleep! in vain, in vain I bid thee visit me: The anxious thought disturbs my brain— Whose shall the maiden be? My mother says, "The shepherd, maid! The shepherd, maid! for thee." Nay, mother, nay! not he, not he; That were no happiness for me: He wanders through the distant glade Where wolves and perils be.
O sleep! sweet sleep! in vain, in vain I bid thee visit me: The anxious thought disturbs my brain— Whose shall the maiden be? My mother says, "The tradesman, dear! The tradesman, dear! for thee." Nay, mother, nay! not he, not he; That were no happiness for me: He is a wanderer far and near, His house no home may be.
O sleep! sweet sleep! in vain, in vain I bid thee visit me: The anxious thought disturbs my brain— Whose shall the maiden be? My mother says, "The tailor, then The tailor, then, for thee!" Nay, mother! nay; not he, not he! That were no happiness for me: The tailor's needle may be keen, His children hungry be.
O sleep! sweet sleep! in vain, in vain I bid thee visit me; The anxious thought disturbs my brain— Whose shall the maiden be? My mother says,—"The peasant, take The peasant, child! for thee." Yes! mother, yes! in him I see Both love and happiness for me; For though his labouring hands are black, The whitest bread eats he. S. J. B.