Narodne Srpske Pjesme

author, Sold, 1827 - 235 páginas

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Página xxi - Servian song resembles the tune of the violin ; Old Slavonian, that of the organ ; Polish, that of the guitar. The Old Slavonian in its psalms, sounds like the loud rush of the mountain stream ; the Polish, like the bubbling and sparkling of a fountain ; and the Servian like the quiet murmuring of a streamlet in the valley...
Página xlvi - the pathos with which these songs are sometimes sung. I have witnessed crowds surrounding a blind old singer, and every cheek was wet with tears — it was not the music, it was the words which affected them.
Página 70 - When the king Vukashin heard the Vila, Both his brothers speedily he summon'd : " Hear my words, now hear my words, my brothers ! From the forest-hill the Vila told me, That we should no longer waste our treasures In the vain attempt to raise the fortress On a shifting, insecure foundation. Said the Vila of the forest-mountain, — ' Each of you a faithful wife possesses ; Each a faithful bride that keeps your dwellings : Her who to the fortress comes to-morrow, Her who brings their rations to the...
Página 29 - Till that beam had reached its high meridian. And her eyes, they were two precious jewels, And her eyebrows, leeches from the ocean, And her eyelids they were wings of swallows...
Página 116 - My love ! A few short paces backward move, And to the verdant forest go ; There's a fresh water-fount below ; And in the fount a marble stone, Which a gold cup reposes on ; And in the cup a ball of snow — Love ! take that ball of snow to rest Upon thine heart within thy breast. And as it melts unnoticed there, So melts my heart in thine, my dear ! " A more ornate translation occurs in the unpublished work reviewed in the Quarterly.
Página xliv - Narodne srpske pjesme, from which most of those which occupy this volume are taken, was made by Vuk, and committed to paper either from early recollections, or from the repetition of Servian minstrels. These, he informs us, and his statement is corroborated by every intelligent traveller, form a very small portion of the treasure of song which exists unrecorded among the peasantry.
Página 73 - There she stops — she comes not one step farther. Lo ! the second, with a red-clay pitcher ; Lo ! she comes — she fills it at the streamlet ; There she talks with other women — lingers — Yes ! she lingers — comes not one step farther. Goiko's youthful wife at home is tarrying, For she has an infant in the cradle Not a full moon old, the little nursling : But the moment of repast approaches ; And her aged mother then bestirs her ; Fain would call the serving maid, and bid her Take the noon-tide...
Página 160 - ll give my white forehead to him who shall bind All the sheaves which my sickle leaves scatter'd behind : I 'll give my black eyes to the friend who shall bring A draught of sweet water just fresh from the spring : And to him who shall bear me to rest in the shade, I will be — and for aye — an affectionate maid.
Página 74 - Mrljavchevich Goiko, On his youthful wife, heart-rent, he threw him ; Flung his strong right arm around her body ; Kiss'da thousand times her snowy forehead. Burning tears stream'd swiftly from his eyelids, As he spoke, in melancholy language : " O my wife, my own ! my full...

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