[2] This phrase is continually applied to beautiful girls in Georgian poetry. It has three meanings: (1) A girl strictly kept, and not seen out of doors; (2) One who is not sunburnt, fair complexioned; (3) A maiden such as the sun has never seen the like of for beauty. The last meaning is the most frequent.
[3] Cf. No. III. ‘Geria’s faithful dog and three-legged horse.’
III
The Story of Geria, the Poor Man’s Son
There was once a poor married man who had only one son; but this son was very handsome and strong, and his name was Geria.[1] Once the youth went out to hunt, and when he was coming home in the evening he met a woman with a jar going to the spring for water; he aimed an arrow at her, and broke the jar. The woman turned to him and said: ‘If thou art so warlike, instead of breaking my pot why dost thou not go and fetch the only sister of the twelve demis that dwell beyond the twelve mountains?’ When he heard this, the youth’s heart began to beat wildly for eagerness to see the maiden.
He went home and said to his parents: ‘Get ready food to last me a year, and if I do not come back in that time set out to seek for me.’ His parents would not consent, but said: ‘We have no child but thee, wilt thou go away from us and perish?’ They wept with one accord, but Geria heeded them not. So they got him provisions. They bade him farewell with sobs. Such wailing was there that the parting was known throughout the country side, yea, even to sun and moon, to heaven and earth, to the sea and the sands thereof. At last they blessed their son and let him go. He took with him a little dog, whose name was Mathicochi.[2] When they took leave one of another, they embraced, they kissed, and the youth sped on his way.
He went, he went, he went, he went as much as he could—week and week, week and fortnight, a year and three months,[3]—he went over six mountains. When he had crossed these six mountains everything round about him began to reel: trees and stones fell down and clattered into the valleys, but Geria was not hurt by them. Then, from beneath, there came to him a voice, saying: ‘What kind of man art thou to stand thus against me. Who can resist me but Geria, the poor man’s son.’ ‘’Tis I—Geria, the poor man’s son.’
When she heard this, the Rokapi[4] went out to meet him, bowed herself, did great honour to him, and said: ‘Whither wilt thou go?’ The youth told her all. The Rokapi was moved with sorrow. Geria asked her: ‘Why dost thou grieve?’—‘For that I have seen many go thither, but I have seen none come back.’ But Geria heeded her not, and went on his way.
He went, he went, he went more than he could, and when he had crossed the other six mountains a still greater earthquake began. It turned out that this region belonged to the eldest sister of the Rokapis; but Geria showed no sign of fear. The Rokapi cried to him: ‘What manner of man art thou to resist my witchcraft? Art thou Geria, the poor man’s son?’ He cried out to her: ‘I am he.’ The Rokapi at once went out to meet him, bowed herself, treated him with respect, and asked him: ‘Whither art thou going?’ Geria told her his plan, and this Rokapi too was distressed. Geria asked her why she grieved. She answered: ‘Because I have seen many on their way thither, but I have never seen one come back; albeit, I will do thee one service, I give thee my three-legged horse.’ She called the horse, and said to him: ‘As long as Geria lives serve him faithfully.’ Geria bade her farewell, mounted the horse, and rode away with his little dog Mathicochi.