How captivating is to me,
Sweet flower! thine own young modesty!
Though did I pluck thee from thy stem,
There’s none would wear thy purple gem.
I thought, perchance, that Ali Bey—
But he is proud and lofty—nay!
He would not prize thee—would not wear
A flower so feeble though so fair:
His turban for its decorations
Had full blown roses and carnations.
SMILIA. [116]
Sweet Smilia-flowers did Smilia pull,
Her sleevelets and her bosom full;
By the cool stream she gather’d them,
And twined her many a diadem—
A diadem of flowery-wreaths;—
One round her brows its fragrance breathes;
One to her bosom-friend she throws;
The other where the streamlet flows
She flings, and says in gentlest tone—
“Swim on, thou odorous wreath! swim on,
Swim to my Juris’ home, and there
O whisper in his mother’s ear:
‘Say, wilt thou not thy Juris wed?—
Then give him not a widow’s bed;
But some sweet maiden, young and fair.’”
HARVEST SONG.
Take hold of your reeds, youths and maidens! and see
Who the kissers and kiss’d of the reapers shall be.
Take hold of your reeds, till the secret be told,
If the old shall kiss young, and the young shall kiss old.
Take hold of your reeds, youths and maidens! and see
What fortune and chance to the drawers decree:
And if any refuse, may God smite them—may they
Be cursed by Paraskev, the saint of to-day!
Now loosen your hands—now loosen, and see
Who the kissers and kiss’d of the reapers shall be. [117]
MAIDEN’S PRAYER.
Beauty’s maiden thus invoked the Heavens:
“Send me down a whirlwind! let it scatter
Yonder stony tower—its halls lay open!
Let me look on Gertshich Manoīlo.
If the otter on his knee is playing—
If the falcon sits upon his shoulder—
If the rose is blooming on his kalpak.” [118]
What she pray’d for speedily was granted:
And a storm-wind came across the ocean;
And the stony tower fell down before it:
And she look’d on Gertshich Manoīlo:
Saw the otter on his knees disporting:
Saw the falcon sitting on his shoulder:
Saw the rose upon his kalpak blooming.
KISSES.
What’s the time of night, my dear?
For my maiden said, “I’ll come”—
Said “I’ll come,”—but is not here:
And ’tis now the midnight’s gloom.
Lone and silent home I turn’d;
But upon the bridge I met her—
Kiss’d her:—How my hot lips burned!—
How forget it—how forget her!
In one kiss full ten I drew:
And upon my lips there grew,
From that hour, a honey-dew,
As if sugar were my meat,
And my drink metheglin sweet.