« AnteriorContinuar »
DR. STEPH. VUK KARADJICH.
My friend! it is thou, it is thou Who hast usher'd these gems into day;
'Tis my pride and my privilege now
We knew that the sun-light shone fair On thy Servia;—we knew 'twas a clime
Of mountains and streams, where the air Was fragrant,—though history and time
Had rear'd not their pyramids there:
Of music, and pathos, and song, Look'd down from the towers of Belgrad,
Unborrow'd the light thou hast shed,
Thy flowers, from thine own native bed,
Shall they fade; and thy music shall spread,
My song will but fall on thine ear,
In vain I invite thee to hear:
Go, happy enthusiast! and save
Which had else been o'erwhelm'd in its wave.
Thy tenement is but of clay;
Thou art frailer than most of us be: Yet a sunshine has lighted thy way,
Whose effluence is sunshine to me :— And 'tis sweet o'er thy Servia to stray, And to listen, pale minstrel! to thee.