The lack of good poetry in Basque is certainly not due to want of encouragement. Moreover, the wish to produce it is there, but the power seems lacking. For over twenty years prizes have been annually given, first at Urrugne, and then at Sare, by M. Antoine d’Abbadie, of Abbadia. But among the multitude of competing poems few have been of any real value, and both in merit and in the number presented they seem to diminish annually. The best of them have been written by men of the professional class, whose taste has been formed on French, or Spanish, or classical, rather than on native models. The following is considered by native critics to be among the best, though several others are very little, if at all, inferior[26]:—

Artzain Dohatsua. 1. Etchola bat da ene jauregia Aldean, salhatzal, hariztegia; Arthalde bat Halakorik ez baita hambat, Bazait niri behar besembat. Ai! etzait itsusi! Ni naiz etchola huntako nausi 2. Goiz-arratsak bethi deskantsu ditut, Deuseren beldurrik nihondik ez dut; Hemen nago, Erregue baino fierrago. Nik zer behar dut gehiago? Ha! ez da itsusi! Etchola huntan Piarrez nausi. 3. Goizetan jaikirik argialdera, Igortzen ditut ardiak larrera; Eta gero Itzalpean jarririk nago, Nor da ni baino urusago? Ez! etzait itsusi! Ni naiz arthalde huntako nausi. 4. Aitoren semeak gasteluetan, Bihotzak ilhunik daude goguetan. Alegera (Bethi naiz; tristatucera)[27] Nik ez dut dembora sobera. Ai! etzait itsusi! Etcholan nor da ni baizen nausi. 5. Jan onegiak barnea betherik, Aberatsak nihoiz ez du goserik; Eta bethi Ene trempuaz da bekhaizti; Diruz ez baitaite erosi. Ha! ez da itsusi! Etchola gasteluaren nausi. 6. Noizbait Jaunari nik dainu egunik, Igortzen banindu aberasturik; Zorigaitzez Hesturik nindauke bihotzez, Ene etchola hemen minez. Jauna! ba ha niri! Utz nezazu etcholako nausi. The Happy Shepherd. 1. A cottage my castle is, By the side of willows, wood, and oak copse; A flock Such as mine is of no great worth, Yet it is all I need. Ah! my lot is not so bad! I am master of this little house. 2. Tranquil I live by night and day, Of aught from no quarter afraid am I; Here dwell No king more proud. What need I more? Ha! it is not so bad! Peter is master in this little house. 3. Almost at daybreak each morn I rise, My sheep I drive to the pastures; And then ’Neath the shade reclined I pass the day. Where is there one more happy than I? No! my lot is not so bad! I of my flock the master am. 4. The sons of the nobles in the castles, Their hearts are black, their thoughts dull. Joyful (Always am I; to be sad) I have not time enough for that. Ah! my lot is not so bad! In the cottage of which I the master am. 5. Eating too much, and ever full, The rich they never feel hunger; Yet always My rude good health they envy; With money they cannot purchase that. Ha! it is not so bad! The cottage the lord of the castle is. 6. Once on a time I grieved the Lord, Sending me full of riches; Of sorrow Full then was I at heart, My little house here suffering. Lord! spare me! Leave me the master of my little house.

A pretty cradle song, “Lo! Lo! ene Maitea” (“Sleep! Sleep! my Darling”), by M. Larralde, a physician of St. Jean de Luz, won the prize at Urrugne in 1859. It is written to a tune composed by the Vicomte de Belzunce; the words have been printed in the “Lettres Labourdines,” par H. L. Fabre (Bayonne, 1869).

1. Lo! Lo! nere maitea! Lo! ni naiz zurekin! Lo! Lo! paregabea! Nigarrik ez-eghin; Goizegui da! Munduko Gelditzen bazira, Nigarretan urtzeco Baduzu dembora. 2. Lo! nik zaitut higitzen, Lo! Lo! nombait goza. Es duzuya ezagutzen Amattoren boza? Exai guzietaric Zure begiratzen Bertze lanak utzirik. Egonen naiz hemen. 3. Lo! Lo! nere aingerua! Bainan amexetan, Dabilkasu burua; Hirria ezpainetan; Norekin othe zare? Non othe zabiltza? Ez urrun ama-gabe Gan ene bihotza. 4. Lo! Lo! zeruetarat Airatu bazare, Ez bihar zu lurrerat Ardiexi-gabe Ungi zure altchatzeko Enetzat gracia; Guciz eni hortako Zait ezti bizia! 5. Lo! Lo! gauak oraindik, Nombait du eguna; Ez da nihon argirik Baizik izarrena. Izarrez! mintzazean Zutaz naiz orhoitzen; Zein guti, zure aldean Duten distiratzen! 6. Lo! Lo! dembora dela! Iduri zait albak Histen hari tuela Ekhi gabazkoak. Choriac arboletan Kantaz hasi dire; Laster nere besoetan Gochatuko zare. 7. Bainan atzarri zare Uso bat iduri. Una nik zembat lore(ac) Zuretzat ekharri! Ametsetan ait-amez Othe zare orhoitu? Ai! hirri maite batez Baietz erradazu! 1. Sleep! Sleep! my darling! Sleep! I am with thee! Sleep! Sleep! without peer! Shed no tears; It is too soon! Of the world, If thou seest long days, For tears thou wilt have Enough time. 2. Sleep! I am rocking thee, Sleep! Sleep! and be still. Dost thou not recognise Of thy mother the voice? From every foe To guard thee I quit all else. I am watching here. 3. Sleep! Sleep! my angel! But borne on the wings of a dream Thy spirit far away flies; A smile plays on thy lips; Who are with thee? Where dost thou wander? Not far without your mother Go my (dear) heart. 4. Sleep! Sleep! toward the heavens If thy spirit has flown, Do not to earth return Without having obtained To bring thee up well For me the favour; This duty is all That is life to me! 5. Sleep! Sleep! now it is night, The day is still distant; There is no other light Than that of the stars. The stars! At the word I am thinking of thee; And (I say) than thee A star is less bright. 6. Sleep! Sleep! while there is time! I see that the dawn Is making pale The stars of the night. The birds in the trees Their songs have begun; Soon on my bosom Thou wilt begin to play. 7. But thou art waking Like a sweet dove. See what flowers I have gathered for thee Tell me, in thy dream Didst thou think of me? Ah! what a dear smile Doth answer me, Yes!

The following belongs to a more quaint and popular class of lullaby, or cradle songs; as it is so simple we do not give the Basque:—

Little Peter.[28]

1.

Ah, my little Peter,