Servian Popular Poetry

by Unknown

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.

MAHOMMEDAN SONG.

His breath is amber,—sharp his reed;
The hand which holds it, O! how white.
He writes fair talismans,—a creed,
For maidens doth the loved one write:
“Of him that will not have thee,—think not!
From him that fain would have thee, shrink not.”

MINE EVERY WHERE.

“Come with me, thou charming maiden!
Be my love and come with me.”
‘Wherefore play with words so foolish?
That can never, never be;
I had rather in the tavern
Bear the golden cup, than ever,—
Ever promise to be thine.’
“I am the young tavern-keeper,
So thou wilt indeed be mine.”