THE RING.
The streamlet ripples through the mead, beneath the maple tree;
There came a maid that stream to draw—a lovely maid was she;
From the white walls of old Belgrade that maid came smilingly.
Young Mirko saw, and offer’d her a golden fruit, and said:
“O take this apple, damsel fair! and be mine own sweet maid!”
She took the apple—flung it back—and said, in angry tone,
“Neither thine apple, Sir! nor thee—presumptuous boy, be gone!”
The streamlet ripples through the mead, beneath the maple tree;
There came a maid that stream to draw—a lovely maid was she;
From the white walls of old Belgrade that maid came smilingly.
Young Mirko saw, and proffer’d her a golden brooch, and said:
“O take this brooch, thou damsel fair! and be mine own sweet maid!”
She took the brooch, and flung it back, and said, in peevish tone,
“I’ll neither have thee nor thy brooch—presumptuous boy, be gone!”
The streamlet ripples through the mead, beneath the maple tree;
There came a maid that stream to draw—the loveliest maid was she;
From the white walls of old Belgrade that maid came smilingly.
Young Mirko saw, and proffer’d her a golden ring, and said:
“O take this ring, my damsel fair! and be mine own sweet maid!”
She took the ring—she slipp’d it on—and said, in sprightliest tone,
“I’ll have thee and thy golden ring, and be thy faithful one.”
THE FRATRICIDE.
Between two mountains sank the sun—
Between two maids the enamour’d one.
He gave his kiss to one alone;
The other maid grew jealous then:
“Most faithless thou of faithless men!”
She said—and he replied—“Fair maid!
I fain would kiss thy cheeks of red,
But thou hast got a bickering brother,
Who loves to quarrel with another,
And I no quarrel seek, my love!”
She hied her to the darksome grove—
Silent—she turn’d o’er many a rock,
And look’d ’neath many a broken stock;
Probed weeds and briars, till she found
A poisonous serpent on the ground.
She smote it with her golden ring,
Tore from its mouth the venomy fang;
Its poisonous juice her hands did wring
Into a wine cup—and she sprang
On swiftest feet to Raduli—
Her own—her only brother he—
Her hands the fatal cup supplied—
He drank the poison—and he died.
Then sped she to the youth—“A kiss—
At least one kiss of love for this—
For this—for thee—I dress’d the cup
With poison—and he drank it up—
The brother that thou lov’st not—he
I poison’d—for a kiss from thee”—
“Away! away! thou murd’rous maid!
Avaunt! avaunt!”—the lover said:
“What fame—what courage could confide
In thee—a heartless fratricide!”