Читать книгу English and Scottish Ballads (Vol. 1-8) - Various Authors - Страница 96

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O mother, thou with thy nine sons, and with one only daughter,

Thine only daughter, well beloved, the dearest of thy children,

For twelve years thou didst keep the maid, the sun did not behold her,

Whom in the darkness thou didst bathe, in secret braid her tresses,

And by the starlight and the dawn, didst wind her curling ringlets,

Nor knew the neighborhood that thou didst have so fair a daughter—

When came to thee from Babylon a woer's soft entreaty:

Eight of the brothers yielded not, but Constantine consented.

"O mother give thine Arete, bestow her on the stranger,

That I may have her solace dear when far away I wander."

"Though thou art wise, my Constantine, thou hast unwisely spoken:

Be woe my lot or be it joy, who will restore my daughter?"

He calls to witness God above, he calls the holy martyrs,

Be woe her lot, or be it joy, he would restore her daughter:

And when they wedded Arete, in that far distant country,

Then comes the year of sorrowing, and all the nine did perish.

All lonely was the mother left, like a reed alone in the meadow;

O'er the eight graves she beats her breast, o'er eight is heard her wailing,

And at the tomb of Constantine, she rends her hair in anguish.

"Arise, my Constantine, arise, for Arete I languish:

On God to witness thou didst call, didst call the holy martyrs,

Be woe my lot or be it joy, thou wouldst restore my daughter."

And forth at midnight hour he fares, the silent tomb deserting,

He makes the cloud his flying steed, he makes the star his bridle,

And by the silver moon convoyed, to bring her home he journeys:

And finds her combing down her locks, abroad by silvery moonlight,

And greets the maiden from afar, and from afar bespeaks her.

"Arise, my Aretula dear, for thee our mother longeth."

"Alas! my brother, what is this? what wouldst at such an hour?

If joy betide our distant home, I wear my golden raiment,

If woe betide, dear brother mine, I go as now I'm standing."

"Think not of joy, think not of woe—return as here thou standest."

And while they journey on the way, all on the way returning,

They hear the Birds, and what they sing, and what the Birds are saying.

"Ho! see the maiden all so fair, a Ghost it is that bears her."

"Didst hear the Birds, my Constantine, didst list to what they're saying?"

"Yes: they are Birds, and let them sing, they're Birds, and let them chatter:"

And yonder, as they journey on, still other Birds salute them.

"What do we see, unhappy ones, ah! woe is fallen on us;—

Lo! there the living sweep along, and with the dead they travel."

"Didst hear, my brother Constantine, what yonder Birds are saying?"

"Yes! Birds are they, and let them sing, they're Birds, and let them chatter."

"I fear for thee, my Brother dear, for thou dost breathe of incense."

"Last evening late we visited the church of Saint Johannes,

And there the priest perfumed me o'er with clouds of fragrant incense."

And onward as they hold their way, still other Birds bespeak them:

"O God, how wondrous is thy power, what miracles thou workest!

A maid so gracious and so fair, a Ghost it is that bears her:"

'Twas heard again by Arete, and now her heart was breaking;

"Didst hearken, brother Constantine, to what the Birds are saying?

Say where are now thy waving locks, thy strong thick beard, where is it?"

"A sickness sore has me befallen, and brought me near to dying."

They find the house all locked and barred, they find it barred and bolted,

And all the windows of the house with cobwebs covered over.

"Unlock, O mother mine, unlock, thine Arete thou seest."

"If thou art Charon, get thee gone—I have no other children:

My hapless Arete afar, in stranger lands is dwelling."

"Unlock, O mother mine, unlock, thy Constantine entreats thee.

I called to witness God above, I called the holy martyrs,

Were woe thy lot, or were it joy, I would restore thy daughter."

And when unto the door she came, her soul from her departed.