By the fountain lay the clay-cold Marko
Day and night;—a long, long week he lay there.
Many travellers pass’d, and saw the hero,—
Saw him lying by the public path-way;
And while passing, said, “The hero slumbers!”
Then they kept a more than common distance,
Fearing that they might disturb the hero.
Fortune is the leader of misfortune,
As misfortune oft is fortune’s leader:
’T was a happy fortune, then, that Vaso,
He the Iguman [104a] of the Holy Mountain, [104b]
From the white church bound of Vilindari,
With his scholar, with the young Isaja,
Thither came and saw the sleeping Marko.
His right hand then beckon’d to his scholar:
“O, my son, be cautious, lest thou wake him!
When disturb’d he rages full of fury,
And without remorse he might destroy us.”
Then he look’d in anxious terror round him,
Saw the letter on the fir-tree branches;
Read it from a distance;—as he trembled,
Read that Marko had in death departed.
From his horse the astonish’d monk alighted,
Seized the hand of Marko;—Marko moved not!
Long he had been dead,—long since departed!
Tears rush’d swiftly from the eye of Vaso,
Marko’s fate fill’d all his thoughts with sorrow.
From the girdle then he took the purses,
Which he hid beneath his own white girdle:
Round and round inquired Iguman Vaso
Where he should entomb the hero Marko; [105]
Round and round he look’d in fond inquiry.
On his horse he flung the hero’s body,
Brought it safely to the ocean’s borders,
Thence he shipped it for the Holy Mountain;
Near the white church, Vilindari, landed,
To that white church he convey’d the body;
And, as wont, upon the hero’s body
Funeral hymns were sung; and he was buried
In the white church aisle, the very centre,—
There the old man placed the hero’s body.
But no monument he raised above him,
Lest when foes should mark the hero’s grave-stone,
Theirs should be the joy, and theirs the triumph. [106]
LYRICS, SONGS, AND OCCASIONAL POEMS.
THE CURSE.
I heard a sprightly swallow say
To a gray cuckoo t’ other day,—
“Thou art a happy bird indeed;
Thou dost not in the chimney breed,
Thou dost not hear the eternal jarring,
Of sisters and step-sisters warring;
Their woes and grievances rehearsing,
Cursing themselves, and others cursing.
A young step-sister once I saw,
Foul language at the elder throw;
“Perdition’s daughter! hence depart;
Thou hast no fruit beneath thy heart.”
And thus the elder one replied:
“Curse thy perverseness and thy pride!
Mijailo is a son of thine;
Now thou shalt bring forth daughters nine,
And madness shall their portion be.
Thy son shall cross the parting sea;
He never shall return to thee,
But, bathed in blood and wounded, pine!”
And thus she cursed;—the curse was true;
Her sister’s nine fair daughters grew;
And madness seized them,—seized them all:
Mijailo,—far away, and wounded,
By solitude and woe surrounded,
I heard him on his mother call:
“O mother! mother! send me now
A bandage of that snowy linen
Which you so thoughtlessly were spinning,
When curses wander’d to and fro.
In your rage you wove it,—now remove it;
Tear it for bandages, as you tore
Love and affection all asunder.
Where it was bleach’d thy son lies under;
With it cover his hot wounds o’er.
Rend it, mother! and send it, mother!
May it thy suffering son restore!”
FAREWELL. [112]
Against white Buda’s walls, a vine
Doth its white branches fondly twine:
O, no! it was no vine-tree there;
It was a fond, a faithful pair,
Bound each to each in earliest vow—
And, O! they must be severed now!
And these their farewell words:—“We part—
Break from my bosom—break—my heart!
Go to a garden—go, and see,
Some rose-branch blushing on the tree;
And from that branch a rose-flower tear,
Then place it on thy bosom bare;
And as its leavelets fade and pine,
So fades my sinking heart in thine.”
And thus the other spoke: “My love!
A few short paces backward move,
And to the verdant forest go;
There’s a fresh water-fount below;
And in the fount a marble stone,
Which a gold cup reposes on;
And in the cup a ball of snow—
Love! take that ball of snow to rest
Upon thine heart within thy breast.
And as it melts unnoticed there,
So melts my heart in thine, my dear!”