THE

NATIONAL SONGS AND LEGENDS
OF

ROUMANIA.

BY

E. C. GRENVILLE MURRAY.

" La Guerre est ma patrie,
Mon harnois, ma maison;
E t en touta saison,
Combattre .e'est ma vie "

LONDON:

SMITH,
1859.

ELDER

& CO.

398.2
M98n

THIS

LITTLE

BOOK

Is Dedicated
IN GRATEFUL AFFECTION,

TO HER
WHO HAS BEEN FOR TEN

YEARS THE

COMPANION OF MY STUDIES ;

WHO HAS BRIGHTENED EVERY JOY AND CONSOLED
EVERY SORROW I HAVE F E L T ,

WHO HAS BEEN THE LIGHT OF MY HEARTH AND THE PRIDE OF MY H E A R T —
THE BRIDE OF MY YOUTH, THE FRIEND OF MY MANHOOD ;

WHOSE BEAUTIFUL AND SUSTAINING LOVE, EVER CHEERING ON AND
BECKONING UPWARDS,

HAS HAD FOR ME SOMETHING AT ONCE HUMBLING AND
EXALTING IN IT.

INTRODUCTION.
T H E countries now known under the names of
Moldavia, Wallachia, Bessarabia, the Bucovina,
the Banat, and Transylvania, formed in ancient
times the country of the Dacians, a warlike and
savage people, who came from

Jasebus

Margiens on the banks of the Oxus.

and
They

were first called Derbies, or Daes, and they
spoke the same language as the Getae, who
inhabited the country at the mouth of the
Danube.

Their God was called Zamolxis: he

is said to have been a disciple of Pythagoras,
and to have strayed into their country, where
he established a religion based on the system
of his great master.

After his death he was

honoured as the chief of their divinities.

viii

INTRODUCTION.

The ancient Dacians appear to have had a
liberal government, and we hear that they were
divided into four classes: the King, the Priests,
the Elders, and the People.* Their most remarkable deeds in arms are their war against Augustus,
under their chief Beribastes, and the subsequent
victories of that barbarian, who extended his
rule as far as the frontiers of modern Bavaria.
Tullius CatOj Tiberius, and Appius Sabinus were
conquered, one after the other, by the victorious
Dacians ; but at length their chief, Duras, fearful
of ultimate defeat, and dreading the resentment of
the Eomans, gave up his command to Decebalus,
who became

their first King; and

A.D. 89,

uniting the various petty rulers under
his sway, something as Egbert did the Heptarchy,
seems to have established a powerful monarchy.
He fought again with the Eomans; and one
Finculus, with his successor Domitian, appear to
have been beaten by him at Talpa.

A village in

* Vide Cogalniciano, " Histoire de la Moldo-Wallachie/' He
appears to have taken his materials, however, without sufficient
examination.

INTRODUCTION,

the district of Vlaskta is still pointed out as the
scene" of these engagements.

But at
A.D. 100.

length the Emperor Trajan, surprised
at these achievements, led his invincible legions
into Dacia.

Decebalus was promptly defeated,

and his army annihilated.

He sued in vain for

peace ; he appears to have been still too powerful
and troublesome to obtain it, and the
A.D. 101-2.

war began again in the following spring.
Decebalus was again beaten; and a fine historical picture might be painted of the vanquished
barbarian seeking the camp of the Romans,
bearing with him a fish* a little corn, and a
bundle of spears, in token of submission.

Peace

is granted. But what barbarian ever kept his
word, or did not mistake clemency for weakness ?
Trajan has hardly reached home when he hears
that his friend Decebalus is again in the field, and
has thrown away the scabbard.
The Emperor returns, determined to quiet him
this time; and with Trajan come his nepheW
Adrian, and Lucius

Quintus Marcus.

The

x

INTRODUCTION,

Eomans pass the winter in Bulgaria, and cross
the Danube in spring, over a bridge
A.D. 104-5.

built for the purpose by the architect
Apollodor of Damascus.
Decebalus, who appears to have been as unscrupulous a barbarian as could be, now sent
some assassins to murder his enemy.

They

were of course discovered; and the war began on
both sides with much violence.
The Dacians are again routed.

Sarmese-

Ghetusa, their capital, is stormed and burnt, and
Decebalus has committed suicide; all
A.D. 106.

before the year 106.
The conquered province was now peopled by
one of those Eoman colonies which became a
blessing wherever they settled, and which carried
the arts and civilization of the Queen City from
the Euphrates to the Umber, from Memphis to
Thule. The new colony was of course under the
protection of Eome, in whose history theirs is
henceforth merged.
The Wallachs now lived in peace, a race of

INTRODUCTION.

XI

hunters and shepherds, till the appearance of the
Turks in Europe.

But they soon had to defend

themselves against the Paynim horde, which
menaced the liberties of the world, till humbled
by Charles Martel upon the plains of Tours.
In 1393 Mircea, Domn (or Prince) of the
Wallachs, foreseeing the success of the Mussulman arms, and anxious to save himself and his
country from the appalling rigour with which they
treated conquered nations, signed a treaty with
the Sultan Bajazet at Nicopolis, in which he agreed
to hold his principality as a fief from the Soldan.
This treaty stipulated that the "Wallachs were
to preserve their laws and government, that they
should enjoy full power of making peace or war,
and that they should not be obliged to deliver up
to their Suzerain such Mussulmen as had become
Christians and taken refuge in their territory.
On their side, the Wallachs agreed to pay, under
the name of a voluntary gift, a sum of three
thousand red (golden) piastres yearly.
It is hardly probable that such a monarch' as

xii

INTRODUCTION.

Bajazet* would have concluded a treaty so advan^
tageous to them, but for the immense armaments
which were then fitting out against him by the
Crusaders.

Mircea certainly chose his Oppor-

tunity with some political skill, though he has
been reproached by western historians for not
having aided the famous Jean Sans Peur at the
disastrous battle of Nieopolis, which terminated
the CrusadeSi

The fact is, however, neither

the Wallachs nor the Hungarians were really
friendly to the Knights of the Cross, and it
is certain that they had reason enough iot
dislike to them.
I n 1460 another treaty was concluded between
the Domn of the "Wallachs and the Porte, in
which (without in any way prejudicing the validity
of the former treaty) it was further stipulated
that all legal processes between Turks and
Wallachs should be heard and judged by the
Wallachian Divan according to the local laws,
* (< Bajazet the First, surnamed Ilderim, or the Lightning!"
—Sutherland's Knights of Malta, vol* L, p, 306.

INTRODUCTION,

xiii

and that no mosque should he huilt on any part
of the Wallachian territories.
In 1513 Moldavia also acknowledged the suzerainty of the Porte, on conditions similar to those
of her neighbour. The treaty between Bogdan*,
and the Sultan Selim sets forth that Moldavia
submitted of her own free and unconstrained will,
and nothing was exacted from the Princes but
four thousand crowns of gold yearly, forty horses,
and twenty-four falcons; the whole to be given as
a peschthesh, or present.f

In 1583, however, the,

* " Bogdan qui succe*da a son Pere (Stephen the Great) en 1504,
prit la resolution de se soumettre a la Turquie en 1513. Le Grand
Qhancellier de la Principaute, Teutul, alia ensuite trouver le
Sultan en qualite d'ambassadeur du Prince de Moldavie. II declara
qu'il venait, de la part du Prince et du peuple, offrir a sa Hautesse
la Moldavie a des conditions honorables. II demanda que
la religion fut conserve', que les lois fussent respectees, que le
Prince fat toujours indigene, et a les conditions le pays deviendra un fief de l'Empire. Selim accepta avec empressement
Tonre du Grand Chancellier."—COLSON.
"A Prince only," says Cant emir," can understand the joy of the
Sultan on this occasion; for Moldavia was very troublesome to him
and he was obliged constantly to have an eye on her movements."
f It may be as well to say that the Wallach originals of these
treaties are burnt. The Turkish originals, however, are said to
be in the archives of the Porte. There does not seem to be any
dispute about the tenor of them.

XIV

INTRODUCTION.

Sultan Soliman insisted on this present being
formally acknowledged as a tribute. Of the subsequent events of their history, the most remarkable
took place in the time of Mihai the brave, who
reigned at the end of the 16th century.

Mihai

even went so far as to declare war against the
Turks, and drove them from the country.

He

conquered Moldavia, and possessed himself of
nearly all the Turkish

strongholds

on the

Danube. He repulsed, and dispersed the Turkish
armies sent to chastise him: and his achievements are the subject of song and ballad.
the national hero of Eoumania.

He is

He was assas-

sinated by the emissaries of one Basta, Prince of
Transylvania.*
* There is also a famous Wallachian worthy, who flourished
in the fourteenth century, Bano Marucini by name, whom the
French called Le Marquis de Roncard, and who under that title
became so well known in song and story that I think I have met
with his name in Ritson. On horseback, and with his harness
on his back, he led a chosen band of brave lances to help Philip
de Valois against the English; and then joining the Count dela
Tremouille and de Coucy, with the famous Jean Sans Peur, Count
de Nevers, he fought successfully against the Sultan Amurath.
He was a poet; and M. J. A. Vaillant, of Bucharest, has given us

INTBODUCTION.

xv

As to their modern history, the first relations
between the Eussians and the Wallacks date from
the time of Peter the Great, who concluded a
secret treaty with Wallachia in 1710, and another
with Cantemir, Prince of Moldavia, in 1711.*
The Czar engaged to maintain the rights of
Moldo-Wallachia, without in any way interfering
with the Government, or laying claim to tribute
of any kind.

The Prince was, however, to main-

tain 10,000 soldiers, in the pay of the Czar.
some of his verses in a little pamphlet published at Paris in
1851 :—
" Or quand, a mon ancetre, il a tire" sa trace,
D'ou le glace" Danube est voisin de la Thrace,
Plus bas que la Hongrie en une froide part,
Est un Seigneur nomme le Marquis de Roncar d.
Riche d'or et de gens, de villes et de terres.
Un de ses fils puin&3 avait amour pour la guerre,
Un camp d'autres puines assembla hasardeux,
En quittant son pays fait Capitaine deux ;
Traversa la Hongrie et la basse Allemagne,
Traversa la Bourgogne et la grasse champagne,
Et hardi vint servir Philippe de Valois,
Qui pour lors avait guerre avec les Anglois."
John and Mathias Corvinus are also said to be of Wallachian
origin.
* In 1771 Austria nearly obtained part of Wallachia by a
secret treaty with the Porte; the Bucovina was finally ceded to
her in 1777.

xvi

INTRODUCTION.

No Eussian was allowed to

marry, or buy

lands.
Here commences the disastrous era, of the
Phanariot Princes.
treaties

It is needless to say that the

just mentioned were hostile to

interests of the Porte.

the

The Greeks of the Phanar

were therefore sent to prevent such an event in
future.

But there seems a fate in the history of

nations; and the result of their policy will be
found in the treaty of Kutchuk Kainardji (§ 16),
in which mention is first made of the Eussian
Protectorate.

The Phanariot Princes reigned

from 1716 to 1821; when, in consequence of some
proceedings adopted by Prince Soutzo against the
city of Turgovist, the inhabitants rose; the rebellion spread, and Vladinicresco became its chief.
The native Princes were restored.
After various other changes which it is not
my province to relate, Bessarabia was ceded to
Turkey in 1812; and in 1828 the Principalities
received a new constitution, in which the Porte is
again acknowledged as Suzerain, and Eussia is

INTRODUCTION,

xvii

formally declared protectress.

The adminis-

tration of public affairs was regulated by the
Eegulamento organila; and the Domn, or Hospodar, was to be elected by the people, but subject
to the approbation of Eussia and the Porte.
I n 1848^ the Principalities did not escape
the storm which swept over Europe.

They re-

volted against the Russian protectorate, and were
promptly suppressed.

The Revolutionary party,

however, published a proclamation, stating the
nature of their demands, which were as follow:—
v 1. Administrative

and

legislative indepen-

dence, according to the treaties between Mercea,
and Vlad V., with the Porte, guaranteeing the
non-intervention of foreign influence in the affairs
of the country.
2. Equality of civil and political rights.*
3. Universal taxation.
4. A National Assembly, composed of representatives from every class of society.!
* The Boyards, perhaps one of the most curiously organised
aristocracies in the world, pay no taxes.
f None but Boyards were capable of election.
b

xvjii

INTRODUCTION.

5. Responsibility of the chief of the state.
His

election for five years only, and

he should

be

eligible from

that

every class of

society.
6. Diminution of the civil list.
7. Besponsibility of ministers and other public
functionaries.
8. Liberty of the press.
9. All rewards for public service to be bestowed
in the name of the country, by her representatives.
10. The right of every district to choose its
own functionaries.
11. A National Guard.
12. Emancipation of the monasteries dedicated
to the Holy Places.
13. Abolition of the clace (corvee) and of the
disabilities of peasants, allowing them to become
landowners.*
* This article, which would have subdivided lands as much
as they used to be under the old system in Ireland, was extremely
unpopular, and almost isolated the revolutionary chiefs in public
sympathy.

INTRODUCTION.

six

14. Abolition of the slavery of the Zingari,
with an indemnity to owners.
15. The Wallach representative at Constantinople to be a "Wallach, not a foreigner.
16. Equal and gratuitous education for both
sexes.
17. Abolition of titles to which no public
functions were attached.
18. Abolition of flogging.
19. Abolition of capital punishment.
20. Establishment of penitentiaries.
21. Emancipation of the Jews, and equality of
political rights for every religion.
22. Immediate

convocation

of a

National

Assembly.
Such were the demands of the Wallachs in
1848.

The Prince Bibesco signed the proclama*

tion, and abdicated three days .afterwards.

But

the Porte at first recognised the new Government
which was called a "Lieutenance

Domniaire"

This state of things, however, did not last.
The Turkish

Ministry changed.

A Eussian
b 2

xx

INTKODUCTION.

and Turkish army marched simultaneously on
Bucharest.*

The Chambers were dissolved; the

chiefs of the movement arrested; M. Barba
Sterbieu was named Hospodar of Wallachia, and
M. Gregore Ghika succeeded Prince Hourtza
in Moldavia.
These facts belong to history.

Upon more

recent events I do not enter.
The revenue of the Principalities is derived
from the contributions of the common people,
the salt-pits, and customs.

The lands, especially

in Moldavia, are among the most fertile in the
world.

Their principal export is wheat.

The manners of the Wallachs are peculiarly
gay and debonnaire.
open-hearted.

They are valiant, frank, and

In their tastes they are splendid

and magnificent.

When it is remembered, how-

ever, that they manufacture nothing, that all
* " According to the treaty of Balta Liman, the Eussians have
the right of entering the Principalities, in concert with the Turks,
when in a state of insurrection. That they did so, however,
alone, without reason and in profound peace, makes their present
occupation a violation of the law of nations."—Times.

INTRODUCTION.

xx

i

their objects of luxury are imported, and that
the contrasts of fortune in the country are rather
too painful and striking, perhaps, we must not
be very angry with the author of the " Question
GEconomique," for the manner in which he treats
this part of his subject.
In their social institutions the Roumans are
particularly aristocratic; and a Boyard of the first
class will by no means mingle with his inferiors
in rank.

So marked indeed was the line between

them, that, not twenty years ago, a Boyard who
paid a visit to another of higher rank, was obliged
to wait respectfully on the threshold of the door
till bidden to enter; nor could he sit down in the
presence of his superior till he had been invited
to do so three times.

A peasant never dared

present himself before his lord without a present,
the value of which was jealously regulated by
custom.

On all public occasions, at balls and

festivities, even in churches, the right of precedency
is vigorously maintained; and even among the
laidies, it is whispered that disputes on this subject

xxii

INTRODUCTION,

have been known to run so high as to end in
personal encounters of great liveliness and spirit.
French, or a kind of lingua-Franca, is the language of society.

Poor ill-used French! almost

every nation speaks a different tongue under this
name.

There are no schools of reputation, and

little education; but there are several theatres,
and two Italian operas,
The priests, who form a large and important
class* are allowed to marry.

There is little

difference between their condition and that of
the other peasants, except that their houses are
always open to travellers, who may find some
amiable and intelligent men among them.
The Calugheri, or monks, do not marry, and
they inhabit the numerous convents.

Their

number may amount to some 20,000 in the two
Principalities, and they are said to be as unpopular
as the priests are beloved.

This may, however,

chiefly arise from the fact that they possess some
of the largest estates in the country (arising from
pious bequests)* and the jealousy which all people

INTRODUCTION.

2 xiii

seem to have against the accumulation of Church
property.
The Zingari, who swarm in Moldo-Wallachia*
and form a class apart, are the same extraordinary
people known to us. as Gipsies, and who seem to
have formed a wandering settlement in almost
every country in Europe. There was also, I learn,
at one time a distinct race of the Zingari settled
in Eoumania.

They called themselves Netoti,

and wandered about the forests, little better than
petty robbers.

They had their chiefs, however,

and paid a regular tribute to the Government.*
* Nothing so much surprises the traveller as the Organised
bands of robbers who still overrun the East. Smyrna now seems,
their stronghold; and the inhabitants have such a salutary
fear of them that they dare not take any measures to protect
themselves. Some time ago, a family living near Smyrna
received a visit from a well-known robber and his band.
Having satisfied themselves, the thieves sat down to supper*.
While thus engaged, a report was brought that the officers of the
law were coming to look for them. The robber chief was in
despair; he had the rheumatism, and could not run. The matter
was, however, easily arranged, and the master of the house hid the
thief under a bed till the myrmidons of the law had gone away
again! In fact, I am by no means sure that it would injure a
man's social position at all, in some Eastern countries, were
it generally known he had been a bandit : perhaps it would
rather increase the respect for him.

xxiv

INTRODUCTION.

They adored the sun and the stars, believing in
a faith which they are said to have brought from
India.

In 1831 they were forcibly baptised, and

became slaves to the Boyards.

The rest of the

Zingari formerly lived a roving life, and were
spread over the country, divided into Vatachii, or
companies. Unheard-of horrors were told of them;
for it is the gift of the vulgar to think in the
wrong every thing and every person they cannot
understand. They paid a tax for freedom to their
master; who, however, often chose some of them
as servants.

This race of domestics multiplied

rapidly, and becoming Wallach in language and
customs, forgot the people from whom they sprung.
The Zingari are now chiefly employed as musicians, artisans, and miners. They are slaves, and
can be bought, sold, and punished with impunity.
There are still, however, a company of them who
preserve their ancient traditions, in almost every
village; and if the traveller chance to be benighted
in some peasant's hut, it is there that he will
hear the tender Doine sung, and see a pretty

INTE0DUCTI0N.

xxv

national dance called the " ora" which will often
remind him of the figures on antique vases.
Their dress is notable : they wear full white
trowsers, a white tunic, and a gay-coloured sash.
Their long hair falls in wild disarray beneath
their slouched hats, and the

long, sweeping

moustache gives a marked and chivalrous expression to their splendid faces.
The women wear their long hair tied in a bunch
behind, and falling in a single tress down the back.
They wear a fine long white shift, embroidered
with gay-coloured silks, instead of a gown; this is
secured by a red woollen sash, beneath which
descends the " fota," a kind of embroidered apron
reaching to the knees.

Their feet are bare: and

where, sir wanderer, have you seen more picturesque figures ?
I t is difficult to say distinctly the number of
souls which may be comprised in this mixed
population, for, from causes on which I do not
enter, the printed statistics of the Principalities
are uncertain.

On a surface of 900 square

xxvi

INTEODUCTION,

leagues there are said to be about 4,050,000
inhabitants,

or 4500 to

the square league,

Wallachia alone is said to number 2,500,000.
Bucharest contains 120,000 inhabitants; Jassy,
90,000.

The ports of Galatz and Breila are

the most considerable.
The regular army of the Principalities is
15,000; the Darobans (gendarmes) and frontier
guards have been also disciplined since 1848,
and form a body of perhaps 15,000 more.

The

organization and discipline of the troops is the
same as in Eussia.

They have but one general;

he is the Minister of War.
The Wallachs form so considerable a nation^
ality that it

appears to be the opinion of

some of their politicians "that the Porte would
do well to unite the Principalities under one
ruler, and declare them independent.*
would

thus

form a more effective

against Eussia than they now do.'

They
bulwark

5

They

* This opinion is very ably and successfully combatted in a
pamphlet just written by M. Ghika *

INTRODUCTION.

urge

"that

she

xxvii

receives a revenue almost

nominal from them, as it is never paid at all
during the occupation of the Russians, or for two
years afterwards,"* and that "her power over the
succession is useless for any practical purpose."
I give this, however, as the opinion of others; and
of course distinctly and emphatically repudiate
the smallest idea of advancing my own.
Indeed this is the merest sketch of the affairs
of the Principalities; as I

am writing from

memory, far from books and men, and without
ready means of consulting either.
As for that which more particularly interests
the reader of the Doine, I regret having to say so
little.

Wallachia and Moldavia, oppressed by

the misgovernment of the Phanariot princes, had
for a long time no literature save the Psalms
of David* and a few religious treatises.

The

learning of the ancient world was only known by
some miserable translations from the Greek,
* See Treaties, especially that of Kutchuck Kainardji, art. xvi.,
§7.

xxviii

INTE0DUCTI0N,

rendered into a barbarous jargon of words taken
from the Sclavonic, Greek, Turkish, and Latin—
a gibberish which was the fashionable language
of the court, the law, and society, much as the
corrupt Norman French became in England after
the Conquest.
But, says La Eochefoucauld very wisely, " a
man's native language is as deeply impressed in
his heart as on his tongue."

The Kouman, or

Wallach dialect still lingered in the peasant'shut,
and in the affections of the people.

I t was evi-

dently derived from the Latin; and bore perhaps
as much resemblance to the language of Virgil
and Cicero, as Yorkshire provincialisms or the
patois of Marseilles may bear to the English of
Lord Palmerston or the French of M. Guizot.
The Lautars, or wandering minstrels, were still
taught to sing to humble men the Doine, which
had soothed their sires, and the old war songs of
the Braves, which yet stirred their hearts like
the call of a trumpet.

These songs had been

transmitted from sire to son by oral tradition

INTBODUCTION.

XXIX

and by quaint old living chroniclers, the only
records now left to Roumania.
Such was the state of things forty years
since.

With the fall of the Phanariots began

a new e r a ; and to Jon Eliade, a country
schoolmaster,

belongs the

honour of having

restored the national language to literature:. a
language so soft and beautiful as to have been
called the golden tongue.
Paris
Conaky

Jon Vacaresco, with

Mamuleano, in Wallachia; Asaky and
in Moldavia;

appeared

soon

after,

bringing each something to the common stock;
though only a few fugitive poems,—translations
from the French.

But their works still suffered

from the Phanariot influence. Cupid and Venus,
with the other obsolete machinery of the Greek
poets, held too prominent a place.
Although, however, the translations which began
to appear about this time were both incorrect
and clumsy in style, they were received with
pleasure by the public, and altogether displaced
the weary gods and goddesses of the Phanariot

xxx

INTRODUCTION.

poets: who are now forgotten, as well as their
writings.
They tried, indeed, to preserve their inspirations in a happier style ; but they never thought
of touching the magic chord beneath which
throbbed the great heart of the people.
In 1832 the literature of Eoumania made another
stride.

MM. Eliade in Wallachia, and Asaky in

Moldavia, established each a printing press.
The former obtained the monopoly of printing in
Wallachia, as well as a contract with the Government to publish the official Gazette, and sang no
more.

He did, however, perhaps still better ser-

vice.

Following the example of MM. Petro

Maior, Schinkai, Klein, Lazar, Thickindel, and
Lauriano, he applied himself wholly to the purification of the language, by banishing from it all
those words of a foreign origin by which it had
become corrupted,
The first poet of repute who now appeared in
Eoumania was M. Alexandresco, a Wallachian
gentleman who long held the sceptre of song.

INTRODUCTION.

Alexandresco was born a poet.

XXXI

In the nawe and

exquisite grace of his compositions there is
something positively enchanting; but, unhappily,
he wanted that study and resolute cultivation of
mind which exalt talent into genius.

He made

also a great mistake: instead of seeking inspiration in the history of his country, or its homescenes in the hall of the Boyard, or by the Olto
and the Danube, his imagination wandered among
strange scenes, and lost itself. Thus he published
a collection of poems, which are little better than
the pale reflection of borrowed lights from Lord
Byron and M. Lamartine.

He printed some

fables; and those in which he spoke of familiar
things were received with enthusiasm.

These

fables occasioned, however, his dismissal from the
army, and were thus raised to the height of
popularity; for it seems, that in all times, the
shortest way to make an author famous has been
to punish him.
About this time, also, M. Carlova wrote some
poetical pieces, inspired by the sufferings and

xxxii

INTRODUCTION.

hopes of his country.

He called them " Euine-

le-Targoviste," or the Euins of Targovista (the
ancient capital of Wallachia).

They recalled the

by-gone glories of the land.

His style was by

turns elevated, passionate, or touchingly plaintive,
and it glowed with the burning language of a
lofty and energetic patriotism.

But Death bore

a,way the object of so many hopes, while still in
the first blush of youth and high promise.

Alas,

for the young and the gifted !
In Moldavia, Negruzi sang of the flower-girls of
Jassy, and paraphrased some novels, of which
perhaps Zoe is the best. He also translated the
Eussian poet Pouskin, and some pieces of Lord
Byron and Victor Hugo, not easily recognised*
But his style is too elegant, and his verses have
too much wit and grace to be branded as mere
imitations.
M. Cogalniciano, of Moldavia, has published
a volume of Moldo-Wallachian history, rather too
sketchy and incomplete; a species of chronicle
borrowed, in a great measure, from Fotino's

INTEODUCTION.

xxxiii

excellent "History of the Principalities."

But

since then he has redeemed his reputation by
some historical commentaries of much higher
promise, and as he is still young, much is to be
hoped from him.
M. Aaron, a Wallachian of Transylvania, and
ex-professor of history at the College of St. Sava
at Bucharest, has also written a history of the
Principalities; but though it displays considerable
merit, it is too dry for the general reader: it is
a mere chronicle compiled with care : a schoolbook on a wrong plan.
M. Jon Ghika is author of a book on the
weights

and

measures

in

use in

different

countries, and it is whispered he has another in
the press.

M. Nicholas Balcesco devoted himself

early to the study of his country's history, and
in 1846 published a very able treatise on the
military force of Boumania in former ages: a
work which received immediate and wide attention.

It is prepared with great care and pains,

and most of his facts are substantiated by dusty
c

xxxiv

INTRODUCTION.

records found among the monasteries.

He died

of consumption in 1852.
M. George Sion has made himself known by
a series of sparkling satires; and M. Constandin
Eosetty has beaten the same ground.

His verses

are mostly imitations from Beranger, and only
met with temporary success.

To imitate is not

to create : to create is to be a poet.
From time to time young adventurers of the
highest promise have entered the lists; but, unhappily for literature, most of them, influenced probably by political events, have ceased to write. Jon
Voinesco, one of the best writers of Wallachia,
sleeps upon his laurels.

M. Constandin Negry,

now Governor of Galatz, has written a charming
little book called " Tree Nopti la Venezia" (Three
Nights in Venice); but he stops there. Among the
writers of the present day also must be mentioned
M. Anton Pann, who has made himself remarkable
more by the burlesque and singular style of his
writings than even by their talent.

He is the

poet of the people, the Burger of Eoumania.

INTRODUCTION.

xxxv

But the character of the Eouman literature is
still in a state of transition.

M. Basil Alexandri,

of Moldavia, and M. Bolentiniano, of Wallachia,
are doing much upon virgin ground; the former
seeking his inspiration among the mountains and
woodlands of his country, the latter rendering
into verse of no common elegance the most interesting facts of her story. Thus Poetry, giving her
hand to History, has seated herself at last beside
the national hearth of the Eouman.
the censorship is a severe one.

Unhappily,

Without entering

into details, it is painful to say that nearly all
who have written in Wallach—poets, historians, or
novelists—were banished after the events of 1848.
Many are dead; and those who survive despair of
being able to return to their homes.
I cannot here forbear touching on a subject of
very serious and increasing importance. I t is one
of the most pregnant and painful consequences
of recent events, that a class of persons have
become involved in revolutions, who appear the
most unlikely to mix themselves up with politics.
c 2

xxsvi

INTRODUCTION.

The liberal countries of the world are at this
moment crowded with exiles, who are neither
enthusiasts nor visionary; but simple, plain,
earnest men, who have been called away from the
various pursuits of life, and sent to wander to
whatever land will receive them, as idlers and
good-for-nothings.
In England, America, Sardinia, Turkey, and in
the Barbary States, there are thousands of these
unhappy men, leading a painful and precarious
life; rusting out their existence far from home
and kindred—hopeless, objectless, penniless.
It is a touching and melancholy thing to see
them.

Young men still beardless, who were led

away by some vague dream of freedom, or fired
by some speech of Cicero or Demosthenes, and
then, mistaking excitement for conviction, rushed
from the schools to the market-place and joined
some popular tumult, or wrote some hasty silly
lines in support of it.

It is cruel, I say, to see

these young men growing up into idlers and
saunterers, falling daily lower and lower.

As I

INTE0DUCTI0N.

XXXVll

write these lines, many a bright talent is slowly
rusting—many a youth of high and noble promise
is. driven to billiards and " absinthe" from the
absolute impossibility of finding anything else
to do, and because no human virtue can enable a
man to. sit still entre ses quatre murs for ever.
We do not quite understand this kind of thing
in England, and are apt to ask ourselves," If they
are idle, why don't they work ? " Work! Yes, so
they would if they could find anything to d o ;
but work is out of the question to most of them.
Where is the State which will give its employments to foreigners ? Where is the Government
that dare do so ? Although England and Holland
owe.their most useful citizens to the edicts of the
princes who banished their forefathers—although
America owes some of the best blood in the
Union to the same cause—there exists, and
always will exist, a jealousy of strangers on their
first arrival in any country. Yet I do not despair
of the ultimate fate of these men. Whatever State
has offered them a home, God's blessing will light

xxxviii

INTRODUCTION.

upon that land; the children and the children's
children of the exile will grow up to be a pride
and a glory to it.

In ages to come she shall owe

her warriors and her statesmen, her arts and her
songs, to the sons of the stranger: they shall go
down fighting for her in the front of battle, and
by their brains and their right hands render her
famous among the nations of the world.

It is

the flower of their chivalry—the best and bravest
hearts and keenest intellects—that foreign lands
are sending u s ; and perhaps there is no body
of men in the world at this moment more respectable by their intelligence and social position
than the Refugees.*

Among them will be found

some of the brightest names which shall adorn
the pages of history yet unwritten.

Good and

great men are now undergoing struggles and
privations—ay, hunger, thirst, beggary, and scorn
* Of course from this category I distinctly and pointedly
except the party who are known as the Reds. I have no sympathy with Republican ideas, and God forbid that I should
advocate them. There are, however, many exiles who are not
Republicans, or constitution-mongers—and some who were, and
repent it!

INTRODUCTION.

xxxix

—with a fortitude and grandeur of soul on which
posterity will reflect with wonder and admiration.
Even while I write, I know and have seen such
things, passing within a stone's throw of my
window, as make me pause, and sickening lay
down the pen.
But it is not for the ultimate destiny of such
men that there is anything to fear.

By-and-by—

pray God it be soon!—the exiles from Italy and
Germany, from far Hungary and Wallachia, will
mingle gradually with the mass of the people in
the lands which they have sought.

They will

forget their distant country, or speak of it only
upon summer evenings as they linger belated in
the meadows; or when the fire burns high in the
grate and the toil of winter days is over.

Then

perhaps they may recall, for the amusement of
some listening child, the story of their by-gone
struggles, and tell how they wrought, and fought,
and bled—-in vain; how they fled, a scanty band,
vanquished and dispirited ; doubting much to sail
far across the seas into a foreign land—unknown,

xl

INTE0DUCTI0N.

unfriended. And then, I pray God that they may
be able to point with pride to the fruits of honest
industry and perseverance, and to read the child
a lesson of endurance and fortitude, of love and
gratitude to his adopted country; seeing the joy
that comes of the hope which holds on untiring,
undismayed by many failures, forgiving much.
Let us on our part be kind and patient with
the exiles, and slow to judge them by the same
standard of worth which may be just among
ourselves.

They are not like the same men

they were in their own happy homes : those who
knew them in former times can hardly recognise
them now.

Is that dirty, disconsolate person

the same who was presented to the traveller a
few years ago as the most remarkable man of his
country—who had first sacrificed his fortune, then
his time to her—who was giving gratuitous lectures
in the college he had founded ? Is, this poor
dispirited fugitive the man upon whom the eyes
of all the scholars and philanthropists of Europe
were turned applauding ?

INTRODUCTION.

xli

Think of him, then, respectfully; overlook in
him the trifling peculiarities, the eccentricities,
the many little things, and some great ones, in
which his manners differ from ours.
I t is a proud and blessed thing to be an
Englishman.

I t is nine times blessed to be of

the great Anglo Saxon race.

It has been made

enlightened, good, and powerful as it is, by the
freedom of centuries; and all who have hands or
intellects among that great family, might win an
honest and independent living, even in exile.
But these unhappy men of whom we have been
writing are as helpless as children; and if they
have not learned some manual employment, some
accomplishment by which the amusement of happy
days may become the support of evil ones, what
are they to do ?

They cannot write; they have

no public. There is no, public for books, upon
many subjects, anywhere but in England and
America.

We will not buy books written in

Hungarian or Wallachian, Italian, German, or
Polish; and no man ever wrote well enough

xlii

INTRODUCTION.

in a foreign language to make a living by his
pen.
Nor is it alone in literature that they have no
vocation.

We must remember that the education,

of most continental gentlemen is eminently unpractical.

Of commerce, machinery, electric

telegraphs, and the things that are now quickening men's minds with us, they know worse than
nothing.

But few of these men are mechanics, or

persons connected with the money-making trades.
They have been brought up under a system which
brands commerce with an indelible mark of contempt ; they belong to a society more aristocratic
than sensible; and they cannot at once eradicate
the prejudices of their whole previous lives. They
are thus, for the most part, a great deal more helpless than an English Peer, from previous training
and habits of thought, would be under the same
circumstances. Once more, then, before I conclude
this digression, let me put in a plea for kindness
and forbearance towards them; and may God's
blessing guide my hand as I write it!

If, for

INTEODUCTION.

xliii

reasons which appear satisfactory, any Government should consider the public peace best
assured by the exile of certain men, it might
perhaps sometimes be generous to consider the
possibility of imitating the example of the Porte
towards the poorer exiles from Eoumania, and
give them the means of living.
I have done : I have already written more and
gone further afield than I intended.

I have now

only to add a few words as to my own share in
the present work.

Some of the best of the Dome

have been collected by M. Bolentiniano, who has
assisted me with much curious information.
myself, I need scarcely say, I claim no merit.

For
I

do not venture to challenge criticism; though he
who spurs into the lists of literature cannot complain if a lance be roughly broken with him, or
hope that a maiden shield will save him from a
fall.

Let me confess, however, that, as to my

own labours, I feel sincere diffidence, not even
unmingled with regret, that so enchanting and
graceful a task should have fallen into such

INTRODUCTION.

xliv

clumsy hands.

I am like one who has had a

casket of jewels given him to carry, and who has
lost half by the way.

I have indeed done my

best to perform my trust faithfully, and tried to
guard each with earnest care, but many have
slipped through; and when I compare the number
and beauty of the gems which were given me, with
those still left in my half empty casket, it is,
frankly, with no little confusion.

I trust, how-

ever, that there is still enough of the original
charm left in these songs to induce some happier
hand to wake again the notes I have perhaps but
marred.

Let me conclude my apology in the

address of Moore to the Irish Harp : —
" If the pulse of the patriot soldier or lover
Hath e'er felt a thrill at its tone,
I was but as the wind sighing heedlessly over,
And all the wild sweetness I waked was thine own."

One word more.

I think I may venture to

believe that I have not deceived myself as to the
beauty of the Dome.

Poetry which has stirred

the heart of one nation has generally an echo

INTRODUCTION.

xlv

in that of another; for all men have very nearly
the same feelings and sympathies, much less
modified than we think even by distance and
custom : " Le monde estpartout comme partout,"
said a witty Frenchman; and he was right.
The fate of Ossian, the Songs of the North,
the Spanish Ballads and Romancers would be
enough to encourage me to hope for the success
of the present work: I need not say that such a
hope is altogether apart from that of any success
of my own. The Doine seem indeed to me to have
about them something of the character of Ossian;
only that instead of belonging to a slow, grave,
misty nation like the Scotch, they are the songs
of a people who lived beneath a summer sky, and
whose dreams were all of sunshine and flowers, of
moons, and stars, and silver seas.
If the Dome give the reader only half the
pleasure they have given me, he will be delighted
indeed with them: they have been collected
during one of the happiest months of my life
—one of those brief and pleasant times in our

xlvi

INTRODUCTION.

existence, the memory of which I do helieve
makes us better ever afterwards: more goodnatured with the world; and which seem to engrave
themselves on our minds like those pictures which
are done by sunshine.
They were written in the Prince's Island, one
of a little group just within hail of beautiful
Stamboul.

I had gone there invalided ; and, as

health was coming back to me, they formed my
occupation.

Seated cross-legged on one of those

Turkish sofas which I wonder we do not imitate,
the Dome grew daily under my hands. My window
overhung the sea; and as my eye dwelt on the
enchanted waters, in that pleasant frame of mind
which follows illness; as I listened for the north
wind, which came laughing over the ruffled waters
about noon, rousing them out of their deep still
sleep like a wild playmate; the songs seemed to
weave themselves, just like the pearls in the story
of " Sirte Margarite."

I was living in fairy land,

among Frank beauties, wise birds, and talking
suns.

My task had an indescribable fascination

INTRODUCTION.

in it.

xlvii

The drowsy song of the Greek boatman

singing of his loves, as he pulled his light caique
beneath my window, became refined into the lay
of the beautiful stranger to the daughter of the
laurel-tree, or the daring chant of Miho the
young before the robber chief.
My principal amusement after this was taking
Greek lessons: hunting out from forgotten corners
of memory the words which had lain rusting there
since I left Oxford. It was a pleasant amusement,
almost bringing back a second boyhood.

Then I

had the quaintest, kindest master to be conceived.
He was €he village schoolmaster; and all the
children in the neighbourhood seemed to know
and love him : and as he was so amiable and goodnatured as to become almost my constant companion out of school hours, and on fete days
(which were pretty often), I soon grew to have an
acquaintance almost as extensive as his own.

It

was pretty enough to see the affection of his
scholars; they waylaid and beset us v in our
evening

walks.

Themistocles

or

Miltiades

xlviii

INTRODUCTION.

(usually some scrubby, bright-eyed urchin) would
come with shout and halo through the vineyards
directly they recognised my friend, and, emerging
with difficulty from the thick foliage of the vines,
would bring bunches of ripe grapes in their sunburnt hands.

He would stop and talk to them

with placid kindness, and smile very sweetly
when we had passed on, as if the flavour of kind
words still lingered about him.

Surely there is

nothing in this world so sweet as to be loved !
Our evening walks were always the same, by
the haunted shores of the Sea of Marmora; and
when it lay beneath me, so still and hushed, and
the moon threw over it a flood of solemn and
august light, fancy grew busy with me, and the
shadows of an elder time peopled the air.

I felt

that I was passing a brief season of tranquil
thought and happiness, such as I was perhaps
never destined to pass again.

I was a boy once

more, talking the language of Homer.

I lived in

another world from that I had left so lately, with
its fume and its roar—its storm in a butter-boat.

INTRODUCTION.

xlix

Then they were the dearest, drowsiest conversations that ever two mortal men held together.
Such simple wisdom as the good man had, he
gave me; and even when struggling with a smile,
I often felt that it was happier and better than
the lore of statesmen and sages.
He had grown quite grey among little children,
though but twenty-nine. He was as single-hearted
as they, and loved the marvellous as dearly; was
full of morals from fables, and of the sentences
which served as copies for his scholars.

He told

me, indeed, that Scotland was the capital of
London; but I do not think it much mattered
what he said:

I should have had the same

affectionate esteem for him if he had told me he
had been to the moon; and it was not very
unlikely that he had.
Yes, it was one of those dreamy, idle, pleasant
times, dear reader, which come to us but once;
when we think that we shall never want a new
dress-coat, and forget there is such a thing in the
world as a goose or an epigram.

But enough!
d

1

INTRODUCTION.

and very much more than enough : yet this is not
mere egotism ; for to understand thoroughly the
character of any book, we should know something
of the circumstances under which it was written.
PRINCE'S ISLAND,
Sept. 12, 1853.

CONTENTS.
PAGE

THE DAUGHTER OF THE LAUREL TREE
MARIORA FLORIORA

.

.

.

.

1
.

.

.

.

4

THE FAWN

17

PAUNASUL CODRILOR

20

THOMAS ALIMOSH

22

STEFAN THE GREAT AND HIS MOTHER

i 26

CODREANO

29

THE FERENTAR'S DAUGHTER

36

BOUJOR

.38

FAT LOGOFAT

41

SALGA

43

THE MALEDICTION

46

RICH AND POOR
MIHO THE YOUNG

.

.

.48
50

THE EING AND THE HANDKERCHIEF

56

GRUE GROSAVUL

59

THE SUN AND THE MOON

64

Hi

CONTENTS.
PAGE

BOGDAN

67

THE TARTAR

70

CONSTANDIN BRANCOVANO

71

SERB SERAC

75

THE ROSE AND THE SUN

80

YIDRA

82

THE MAID OF COSIA

87

THE DOVE AND THE COUOOU

90

BALAURUL, THE SERPENT

92

THE BANQUET

94

MICHAI SAVING THE STANDARD

96

MlHNEA DOMNU .

98

.

,

MIROEA

102

MICHAI THE BRAVE

104

SIRTE MARGARITE

106

MlORA

Ill

NOTES

115

NATIONAL AIRS OF ROUMANIA

143

DOINE ;
OR,

THE DAUGHTER OP THE LAUREL TREE.
•

" OPEN thy branches, beautiful Laurel Tree,
and let me go forth• for it is the hour when the
Evening Star bathes her silver hair in the limpid
waters of the rivulet."
So speaks a fair girl shut up within the
Laurel; and the Laurel opens its leaves.

The

maiden springs out, and descends dancing into
a flowery valley.
The pale betrothed of the Sun shines softly
through the clouds, and the nymph flits through
the valley, light as the breeze when it passes
B

2

THE DAUGHTER OF THE LAUBEL TREE.

over the flowers.

Her large eyes reflect the soft

and loving light of the stars, and her long hair
breaks in a golden flood upon her shoulders.
" Listen, sweet girl," says a young and handsome stranger.

" Your locks are more beautiful

than the beams of the sun upon a ' l i l y ; but
accursed be thy loveliness, for it has troubled
my life and my youth."
At these words a blush burns on the cheek of
the maid like drops of blood from a wounded
bird, fallen upon the snow of the morning.
The young stranger tries to embrace the beautiful Daughter of the Laurel, but the fair-haired
maiden flies fast through the pale shadows of
the night,

"When far from the traveller she

stops, and seems to defy him; but when the
youth approaches she flies again, and both at
length disappear in the flowery groves.
" The Star Queen sleeps in her palace of
clouds;, sleep also, gentle and lovely girl; try to
calm thy sighs."
So sings the handsome stranger, and the

THE DAUGHTER OF THE LAUREL TREE.

3

Daughter of the Laurel falls to sleep in his
arms, murmuring a prayer to God that her lover
may never abandon her.
She sleeps.

At her awaking, her anxious

eyes seek in vain for those of the handsome
stranger^ • She sees him no more.

She shrieks

for him wildly in vain, and calls to the night;
to the stars; to the rivulet that runs through
the wood;

to the birds singing among the

flowers ; but none can tell her whither he has fled.
" Open thy branches, beautiful Laurel Tree ! "
then cries the deserted girl; " t h e night is
already flying before the first rays of the daylight, and if I remain longer here I shall dissolve
away into dew."
" Away, young and beautiful girl," replies the
Laurel Tree, mournfully; " t h e star wreath of
honour has fallen from thy brows; there is no
longer any place for thee here."
Then the sun rises over the mountain, and
the Daughter of the Laurel dissolves away
into dew.
B 2

MARIORA ELORIORA.

4

MARIORA FLORIORA.

SWEET

and pleasant is the life of man in

fertile Moldavia; flower succeeds to flower, and
fruit to fruit beneath its generous suns; myriads
of melodious birds enchant the ear with their
delicious harmony; young and beautiful maidens
take the heart captive.
But if you were to travel nine years in the
country of the Monteni, or in any other; if even
you were to journey over nine lands and nine
seas, you would never find maid, or bird, or
blossom, so

wondrously

lovely

as Mariora

Floridra, the Zina * of the Mountains, the Sister
of the Flowers.
She is bright as a tear of joy, gentle as the
* Zina, nymph.

MARIORA FLORIOBA.

5

spring, blithe and light-footed as a fawn, and
neither tall nor short, but just of the proper
height for a bride.

Her chestnut hair* soft as

silk, attracts the eyes of all who approach her.
I t clusters over her white forehead, and falls in
golden waves to her shoulders, like a field of
ripe corn stirred by the wind.

And then, my

friends, she has upon her lips a scarlet blossom ;
in her mouth are pearls; upon her

cheeks

cherries; and on her bosom lilies, with two
little strawberries upon them.
When she goes forth into the fields

the

flowers laugh joyously, and open their hearts to
exhale perfume for her; then, after

bowing

gently in the wind, they strive to arrest her
steps, and say, " Good morning, sweet sister
Mariora Floriora!
have of us ?

Tell us what thou wouldst

Will you have the odours of the

cowslip,* which calm the heart, or those of the
enchanted basilicon, whose spells can stop the
wandering youth upon his way and make him love
* Sulcina.

6

MARIORA FLORIORA.

thee ? Take us, sweet sister, oh, take us and place
us in thy hair, or in thy bosom, that we may toy
with thy tresses, or fall to sleep upon thy breast."
Mariora listens, pleased and happy; then lying
down among the flowers she covers them with
kisses, and places some in her hair and some in
Jier girdle.

All who see her stop and cry,

admiringly, " There is Zina, the Nymph of the
Flowers."
The hoary old mountain grows young again
when he hears her step, and dresses himself in
a robe of green and crystal to receive her.
birds awake and sing, " All hail!

The

Mariora

Floriora! tell us what thou wiliest have of us.
Will you bathe in the water that has never been
troubled ?

Are you seeking for singing birds,

or for wild honey; or will you listen to the
sweet airs of the tender Dome ? "
"Wherever she appears she is met with loving
words, and she lives among happy thoughts, as
the bee lives among the gardens.
Nevertheless she is pensive sometimes, and

7

MARIORA FLORIORA.

when alone she fancies that mysterious voices
whisper to her softly, " Beautiful Zina! thou art
young, lovely, and gentle; thou hast wakened
love in many.

Hast thou never dreamed that

the time is come for thee to love also?

Dost

know, dear girl, that thou must one day die,
and render an account of thy heart in heaven ?
How many flowers,'* adds the voice warningly,
" waste their sweetness and fade away, remembering not the scentless flower of the lake which
blossoms at the gates of Paradise to judge the
rest, and that she will inquire strictly what they
have done with their odours."
One day while musing on the mysterious voice
that haunts her, Mariora meets a young stranger,
mounted on a black steed with a white star in
his forehead.

She unconsciously casts down her

eyes, and her heart begins to beat turbulently.
" Calle buna, sweet girl," says the stranger.
Mariora naively thanks him, though she cannot
raise her eyes.
" Tell me truly, fair maid," then asks the

8

MARIORA FLORIORA.

traveller, "are you the daughter of a king; or
the shadow of a sweet dream I once had, for I
have travelled far and seen many beauties* but
none like unto thee."
" If thou wouldst know who I am," replies the
nymph, " thou must ask my sisters, the flowers,"
" A r t thou the daughter of a mortal, or of a
Zmeu ? " continues the stranger.
" I f thou wouldst know who I am/' answers
Mariora, " ask the mountains and the bridgeless
torrents* the singing-birds, the waterfalls* and
the young fawns."
" Then, fairest of the fair," says the stranger*
gradually becoming enlightened, " thou art the
Nymph of the Flowers, the guide of Aurora;
Thou art my fate, and a star foretold that I
should love thee ! "
Mariora's heart is touched by the gallant
stranger; she blushes; and both remain silent
and pensive; but her hand caresses the flowing
mane of his horse, who neighs till the mountains
re-echo.

MAEI0RA

9

FLORIORA.

But now a fair young girl comes dancing
towards the lovers.

A wanton smile is on her

lips, and her hair is decked with butterflies.

She

comes fresh from a garden; upon her breast
are clusters of flowers; in her hands she carries
branches of the cherry-tree, laden with ripe
fruit; and she sings as she approaches them:-—
" On my breast is a garden of sweet-scented
flowers; whoever inhales their breath must be
my lover.

I have strawberries too, and cherries;

whoever tastes them must give up his life to me.
Fair youth, will you have my cherries ?

When

was fruit so tempting ? "
Thus singing, she displays the flowers upon
her snowy bosom,

The stranger stretches forth

his hand, but Mariora stays him and says:—
" Take neither fruit nor flowers from that
girl, for I will give thee my whole garden; the
garden of my bosom and the flowers of my
heart."
"My own Zina, my dear destined bride/'
replies the youth.

" I will give up my travels

10

MAEIORA FLOMORA.

from henceforth, and dismount from my steed,
that I may stay here and love thee."
Mariora blushes, and sheds tears of happiness;
still caressing the horse, who raises his crest
proudly towards his mistress.
The shadows of evening begin to spread over
the mountains, but a ray of light appears suddenly over the rocks, and gradually becomes the
moon.
She is at her full, and looks joyous as the brow
of a bride.

The moon remains fixed above the

rocks, and looks down upon two shadows, who
embrace tenderly.

They are intoxicated with

love and forget the world.
Then the moon seemed to shine with a more
august splendour; she made a mystic sign to the
stars, and the stars shone out and saw the
shadows who embraced each other.

Towards

midnight the shadows vanished, and the moon
set behind the rocks; but the bright stars whispered to each other:—
" Bright flowers of the heavens ! Sweet sister

MARIORA

FLORIORA.

travellers through the sky!

11

Have ye seen how

the Nymph of the Mountain embraced her lover
in the world below.

Alas! she did not even

see us this evening!

They are gone now, the

maiden and her lover; where are they hidden,
sisters ? "
So the stars ascend towards the west; they
spread themselves shining over the firmament to
penetrate the mystery; and their rays illumine
the airs.
At daybreak Mariora awakes as if from a
dream; her beloved is beside her.

He looks at

her tenderly, and says :—
"Dear Mariora, gentle as the dove, I would
gaze upon thee for ever, toying with thy hair,
and then die upon thy lily bosom."
Mariora listens with a blush and light laughter.
She hides her face among her golden tresses, and
peeps out now and then like a butterfly, or a bird
singing as it flies through the trees.
She makes a sign, and a table rises loaded
with delicious fruits.

The lovers partake of

12

MARIORA FLORIORA.

the banquet, and say:—"Let us always love
one another, for are we not equal in youth
and in

tenderness, and in love and

gentle

thoughts ? "
So passes another day.
The next morning when the bride and bridegroom awake, Mariora makes another sign, and
an

elegant carriage with six horses appears

before her.

They get into it, and she tells the

enchanted steeds to let their shadow only hover
over the surface of the fields, and to fly with
them swift as thought.
The coursers neigh, and fly lighter than
shadows with the happy pair.
they ramble

I n this manner

over meadows and

mountains,

but the mountains on seeing a stranger by
the side of Mariora Floriora take off their
verdant robes and hide themselves in clouds.
The leaves fall yellow and withered, the streams
are troubled, the flowers droop their heads and
fade.
But the beautiful Mariora thought no longer

MARIORA FLORIORA.

13

of mountains and flowers; she had no eyes for
anything but her lover.
The coursers, flying upon wings swift as those
of desire, arrive in a single bound at the borders
of a stream.

Mariora descends to bathe; and the

water cradles and caresses her, as if she were a
lily and grew there.

The enamoured waves play

with her hair, and leave upon every tress some
bright drops to sparkle in it,

But the sun

dries up the bright drops, and transforms them
into a cloud, which rises slowly towards the
heavens.
" Mariora," says the Sun, " thou art fair and
lovely; thou art happy, but hast thou no thought
that fortune is fickle, and that the sweetest
dreams end bitterly ? Dost thou know, that the
flowers of the field have faded away since thou
hast left them uncared for, and, returning to
the skies, have complained that thou hadst
forgotten them.

Mariora," adds the Sun, "my

beloved, the Lord will chastise thee, and thou
must not murmur; still know that in this

14

MARIORA FLORIORA.

fleeting life and perishable world a sweet day
of love is worth an age of vulgar happiness."*
"When fortune changes," exclaims the poet,
" more griefs are crowded into one sad hour
than are enough to darken years."
Upon the third day Mariora felt her spirits
saddened.

She was pensive, and wept in silence

on her lover's bosom.

No one knew why she

wept, for she wept as weep the flowers for the
morning.
The day was lovely, the mountains were
bathed in light, and the valleys in silence.

The

birds kept within the pleasant shadows, and
neither flew nor sang.

The shadows were the

only moving things: they struggled against the
light, and when vanquished fled far into the
forest.
Mariora sighs, and embracing her lover, she
* A sentiment one would hardly have expected from the
sun, especially after the preceding sentence; but the strange
mixture of religion and impiety is one of the most curious
characteristics of Wallack poetry: perhaps of the poetry of all
primitive people.

15

MARIORA FLORIORA.

says : " Sing, my beloved, that thy soul may pass
into mine."

" Sweet have my days grown since I

met thee, 0 nry soul," sings the youth; "forget
for me thy skies, fair angel sister to the golden
stars, for I have forgotten my world for thee."
Suddenly there is a plaintive sound in the air,
as of a mother's voice mingled with mournful
bells.

The earth trembles ; Mariora looks round

fearfully: she sees a black cloud hovering over
her, dark and menacing as aZmeu* spreading its
sombre and awful wings over the horizon.

I t is

the same cloud which rose from the bright drops
in her hair, which the waves gave her. Mariora
grows pale, and bending over her lover, she
says, with anguished looks :—
" Farewell, 0 my love, foretold to me by the
star! God has sent a Zmeu from the mountain
to tear me from thine arms; for since I have
loved thee I have forgotten His flowers. They
have faded, and complained to Heaven that I
abandoned them."
* Evil spirit.

16

MARIORA FLORIORA.

She weeps as she speaks, and the cloud rises
and overspreads the skies.

The thunder rolls,

and the valleys and mountains re-echo it; the
lightning flashes, the rain falls, the winds moan,
and poor Mariora hides her face in despair!
But fate is not to be pacified; the Zmeu arrives
and seizing her in his arms flies away with her
over the mountain; after which the

clouds

vanish and the heavens become serene.
Where is Zina, the Flower Nymph ?

The

beautiful Mariora Moriora, into what far country
is she gone ?

Is she wandering over nine lands

and nine seas, or is she seeking for the garden
of Paradise, where dwell the Nymphs and the
stars ?
None ever told, none ever knew; but, when
the full moon is shining on a serene night, her
plaintive murmurs are sometimes heard in the
caverns of the mountain.

THE

THE

FAWN.

17

FAWN.
0

•

" MY pretty Fawn ! look once again upon the
setting sun; it is the last time you will behold
it; you are my little friend, and must die for
my sake."
" Let me still live till the end of the season,
dear master," replies the Fawn, " when the lily
of the valley bends her head upon the stem,
when the songsters of the spring cease their
harmony: life is so sweet, the sun so beautiful,
the heavens so wondrous.

Ah, let me still live,

dear master."
" Alas ! it cannot be, my little Fawn.

The

queen wills thy death, or a divorce, and if thou
lovest me, my pretty gentle little Fawn, thou
must die for me."
G

18

THE FAWN.

" Thy will be done then, master," answers the
little Fawn; " I can die to make thee happy;
though I am so young, so beautiful, and life is
so delightful."
" Do not weep, my little friend, for thou dost
break my heart," answers the king, who can do
a cruel thing more easily than talk about it.
" The queen wishes for my death, because I am
a prophet, and know all her secrets.

But

beware, O k i n g ! for to-morrow thy royal head
shall fall beneath the knife of the queen and
her lover."
" Not so, my little Fawn," reasons the king,
"thou sayest this to be revenged against my
wife."
" Heed me or not as thou will'st," answers the
Fawn.

" But before thy death tell the servants,

who remain true to thee, to take my bones and
to make thee a coffin of them.

Thou must tell

them to paint it with my young blood, and to
bury thee in it after thy death.

From this coffin

shall arise a sweet-scented tree, which shall bend

THE FAWN.

19

over thy tomb and cover it with a cool shade
during the fierce heats of summer.

The tree

shall protect it from the winds and the storm,
and singing thy misfortunes and mine, stop the
passenger to weep over thy grave."

o 2

20

PAUNASUL C0DRIL0R.

PAUNASUL CODEILOE.
—«—
A YOUTH and a maiden are wandering through
a valley.

The maiden is beautifully fair, and

she is crowned with a chaplet of yellow flowers.
" Sing to me, sweet girl," says the youth, " that
I may hear thy sweet voice."
" I would sing to thee, my beloved," answers
the maiden, " but the caverns will echo my song,
and the Paunas of the mountains, the ^rave of
braves, might hear me."
" Fear not for me, my golden beauty," answers
the youth gallantly, " when I am near thee ; and
oh fear not for thyself when thou art near to me."
The young maiden with the golden hair begins
to sing; the Eclwes carry her song to the Paunas
of the mountains, and the Brave of braves
appears.

PAUNASUL

21

CODRXLOR.

" My pretty little lad! my brave little mannikin," says the Paunas, hoping to gain his
point by fair words.

" Give me thy bride, or

thou must die."
" Thou shalt not have her while my head
remains upon my shoulders," answers the youth
resolutely.

" I have sworn by her golden hair

never to abandon her!"
The struggle

begins

and the

combatants

wrestle fiercely; at length the youth gives way;
his belt falls off, and Paunasul grips him in the
clasp of a giant.

His eyes glare, his heart beats.

"Help, love!" cries the youth, "and gird on
my belt, for I am losing strength."
" Nay, husband," answers the lady.

" Let the

fight be fair, and whoever is victor I

will

marry him."
The two Braves clasp each other with all
their strength, and one falls.
Who carries off the Fair one?
Paunas of the rocks.
never ?

I t is the

Who falls to rise again—

Alas ! it is the gallant bridegroom.

22

THOMAS ALIMOSH.

THOMAS ALIMOSH.
FAR away, but not too far away, upon the
banks of the Neister, at the foot of a hill, and
beneath the shadow of a cluster of poplar trees,
sits Thomas Alimosh, the " Boyard "
Near him stands his murgo, with its gilded
bridle.

He is feasting, and thus soliloquizes:—

" I would drink a health if I knew to whom :
shall it be to my gallant steed ?

He is a beast,

and can do nothing but carry me ! Shall it be to
my arms ? my arms, the sisters of my heart ?
But even they are only dried wood and cold
iron."
As Thomas Alimosh is thus speaking he hears
the trot of a horse.

He rises, and, looking along

the plain, he sees a young Brave, mounted on a

THOMAS ALIMOSH.

28

black horse of the famous breed of Dubrodgia.
The cavalier, with his tall form and raven hair,
is the giant Manea.

He approaches Thomas

Alimosh, and, addressing him as " Boyard of the
Lowlands," demands haughtily why he has come
into the country to ride over the corn and the
young vines—to spoil the vintage and the harvest.
Thomas good-naturedly asks him to sit down
and cool himself, then drinks the giant's health,
and offers him a glass of wine.
The giant Manea takes the wine in his left
hand—a sure sign of bad fellowship—and with
his right draws his sword.

He wounds his

entertainer in the breast, and then mounting
upon his coal-black murgo, takes hastily to flight.
" 111 luck to thee, son of a spouseless bride!"
cries Thomas Alimosh indignantly.

" If thou

fallest into my hands I will send thee to perdition!"

Then staunching with his hand the

blood which gushes from his wound, he mounts
on horseback.

But his horse is old.

" On, oh, my little horse!" he says, with a

THOMAS ALIMOSH.

u

slight tone of regret in his voice.

" Alas! if

thou couldst go in thine old age as thou didst in
thy youth!"
The generous horse answers that he will go
faster than ever he went before; and Thomas
Alimosh again urging him on, he flies like dried
grass before the blast of the wind, or like a hawk
stooping on his prey.

He soon overtakes his

enemy.
" Manea !" cries the Boyard sternly, " thou
hast wounded me like a traitor, and taken to
flight like a coward !"
Manea is dismayed, and strikes his horse
cruelly.

He tries to escape; but his foe follows,

terrible, though dying.

When near enough,

Thomas draws his sword and cuts him in two
pieces, exactly through the middle of the body;
hewing off two of his horse's ribs with the same
stroke.
So perish all who abuse the hospitality offered
to a guest!
" My little murgo," then says the dying warrior,

THOMAS AL1M0SH.

25

" my eyes are closing ; the clouds above grow
dim to me.

Hasten once more, and bear me

quickly yonder beneath the shade of the poplar
trees.

I will die there.

"When I am dead, and

my hands cannot caress thee, thou wilt dig me a
grave with thine iron shoes ; with thy teeth thou
wilt cast me into it.

The poplars will grow bare

when the autumn wind blows, and their leaves
will cover me."

26

STEFAN THE GREAT AND HIS MOTHER.

STEFAN THE GKEAT AND HIS MOTHER.

UPON

a gloomy rock near an ancient castle in

Moldavia a fair lady passes the night in weeping.
I t is the bride of Stefan, Duke of the Moldavians.
Her bine eyes glitter like two violets beneath the
morning dew; and she dries her tears with her
long hair.

Her husband has been gone some

days to the wars, and she has not heard from
him.

As she still weeps a horn is heard to

sound at the castle-gate.
" Open! mother mine," cries the faint voice of
a spent horseman.

" My army is scattered, and

I have fled hither from the field ! Open the gate
quickly, for the wind blows keenly; my wounds
are painful, and I am surrounded by foes."
At these words the young princess flies to

STEFAN THE GREAT AND HIS MOTHER.

the lattice.

27

But the warrior's mother asks him

boldly—
" What dost thou here, my son ?
thee to remain without."

I command

She speaks; and going

upon the terrace, thus sternly addresses the
fugitive—
" What wouldst thou, stranger ?

I t is in

vain that thou seekest to enter this castle, pretending to be my son.

My son is with his

braves, where duty calls him.

He has never

returned to his hearth in shame !

Or, if thou

art my son, I am not thy mother.

If God has

reserved such a disgrace to embitter the rest of
my days, if thou art indeed my son, then know
that thou shalt never enter this castle with thy
brows unlaurelled.

He who knows not how to

die for his country is like those ill-omened nightbirds who see only in the dark.

If thy soul has

lost its noble courage, go back then to the realms
of Night, from whence thou earnest, for the
morning breaks."
Recalled to his duty by these burning words,

28

STEFAN THE GREAT AND HIS MOTHER.

the duke returns to his army, and the combat is
renewed.

The Turks are either routed or cut to

pieces, and Stefan the First returns in triumph
to his castle.

29

CODREANO,

CODREANO.

T H E fame of Codreano has gone abroad in
the forest.

But he has no horse,

He is dis-

tressed at this circumstance, for no brave can be
well appointed without his murgo.

Dressed in

a shepherd's sarica and a cap like that worn by
the Zurcan mountaineers, so that he may not be
recognised, he yet looks very brave and handsome.
Thus attired he tries to find a horse with a
wavy mane such as horses should have, but he
cannot discover a good one anywhere.

Every

horse which is brought to him is so weak and
miserable that he can take it by the head and
throw it down. So he continues his fruitless wanderings among the mountains.

At last he meets

with one of the mocons, or travelling cattle-dealers.

30

CODEJEANO.

" Calle buna, mocon, a pleasant journey to
you," cries Codreano, accosting him.
" Thanks, brother," replies the mocon.
"Tell me, mocon of the mountains," then says
Codreano, " wilt thou change thy horse for my
sarica and a waggon with eight oxen ? "
" I will not barter my horse against thy sarica,"
answers the mocon, for with the foals of his dam
I pay the rent of the fair Valley of Olto, and if
I would have sold him I might have had the rich
lands of Movilao.
"Hark, my little mocon," returns Codreano,
softly, " I must have thy horse, for I desire him
so ardently, and God is good.

Give him to me

then at once; I wish to try if he goes well,
and if he pleases me I will give thee my soul
for him.".
The

mocon at length

yields

his

horse.

Codreano mounts upon the fiery steed, and gives
him the rein.

The horse goes so fast that

mountains and valleys seem all mingled in one
confused mass.

CODREANO.

The moeon is much distressed.

31

" B y thine

eyebrows," he cries, " I might have known thou
wert a thief!"

But, smothering his wrath, he

calls after Codreano to return his horse, or
give him the waggon and eight oxen which he
promised.
" Not so, my little mocon," answers the robber,
contemptuously; " you had better make me a
present of him."
So saying, and delighted with his murgo, he
rides away to an inn, where he feasts and quaffs
with Santa, the beautiful hostess, but does not
dream of paying, though he drinks the rich wine
of Catnari.

When he has finished his carousal

he mounts his horse and rides towards Capo,
where he lives.

But the Poterasi ride after him.

Codreano sees that the Albanians are pursuing
him, but he feigns indifference, and having by
this time another appetite, he sits down to supper.
" Surrender,

Codreano !" says the

entering his house.

Potera,

" Surrender, or die."

Codreano, who is hospitably inclined, and

32

CODREANO.

probably still in a good humour with his new
acquisition, replies, "that his mutton is fat and
tender, and that his wine is old."

He requests

the Poterasi to partake of some refreshment.
But the Albanians have a dull ear for pleasantry,

They fire their pistols at Codreano, who

only smiles, and plucking the balls out of the
flesh with his fingers, loads his durda with them
and cries, indignantly:—
" 111 betide ye ! Pagan robbers! I will feed my
dogs with your bones; you are fit for nothing
' else."

Then, firing off his durda, most of the

Albanians lie weltering in their blood.

Their

chief, however, Leonti (may the earth swallow
him!) takes off the silver buttons from his vest,
and loading his carbine with them, discharges
it in a most unjustifiable manner at Codr6ano.
The robber is wounded, and growing angry at
this, hurls his baltac at Leonti and cuts off his
head.

The head of Leonti rolls in the dust, but

his body has learned good manners, and still
stands bowing before Codreano.

83

C0DBEAN0.

After this the Brave, weakened by his wound,
falls upon his knees, sustaining himself with his
hands, and in this position he is surrounded by
the Pot era and taken.
They carry him prisoner to Jassy, where he is
brought before Ilics, reigning Prince of Moldavia.
Ilics is seated on a divan, and holds a sceptre in
his hands.

Near to the Prince is seated a Turk

from Stamboul.
" Codreano," says the Prince, " tell my highness truly how many Christians hast thou slain ? ,?
" My lord," replies Codreano, " I swear to
your highness 1 have never slain a Christian,
though I have killed many pagans.

Whenever

I met with a Christian I shared my goods with
him.

If he had two horses I took but one, and

left him the other.

If he had twenty piastres I

gave him back ten : but when I met with a Turk
I took his head, and left him his body."
*'The thick-lipped Turk, who was seated on
the divan beside the Prince, grew pale at these
words and said that if Codreano lived another
D

34

CODEEANO.

.year he would drive
country.

the

Turks out of the

Then turning to the Prince, he urged

him to show no mercy to Codreano, who was
capable of carrying off his wife, and killing him.
But Codreano answered with much coolness
and dignity, " L e t not my lord listen to these
strangers, who will be the ruin of us."
" Off with his head !" cries the Prince: " but
stay; first send for a confessor! "
Then the gates are opened, and the famous
robber led out.

They seat him in the vestibule

of the church; his hands and feet are shackled
with irons, but a confessor is beside him.
"Holy man," cries the robber meekly, "unbind
my hands that I may make the sign of the cross
before I die."

The priest unbinds his right

hand, and Codreano searches in his bosom for
his palosh.

With his palosh he cuts the fetters

which bind him, and is free.

Then going

beneath the windows of the Prince, he reproves
him sternly.
" Open thy windows, my lord," he says, " that

C0DEEAN0.

35

we may hear and see each other.

Then learn,

0 Prince, that it is unworthy of thee to seek the
life of a brave like me."
The Prince conceals himself in the cellars of
the palace, and the Albanians close the gates of
the courtyard.
" Then," cries

Codreano, " 0

my gallant

steed, where art thou? thou mightst save my
life."
The horse hears his master's summons in the
stable, and comes out plunging joyously, with
his tail flowing in the wind, and his crest erect.
Codreano mounts, and springing over the walls
he says, tauntingly—
" Farewell, Sir Prince !

Stay safely on thy

throne while I go back to my kingdom, and God
save thee, my lord, for thou hast little wit."

D

2

36

THE FERENTARS DAUGHTER.

THE FERENTAR'S DAUGHTER.
*' MY beloved is gone to the wars; and since he
left me I have known no joy.

When he went

I bridled his charger, and I gave him my heart
in a kiss."
So sung Marie the beautiful maiden, and tears
sparkled upon her cheeks, like the dews of
morning upon a flowret.
But as she sings she hears the dear voice of
her lover. He has returned alone from the wars,
and says to her, " I have left my comrades upon
the battle-field, and I am come back to thee, 0
my beloved; for without thee I can dwell no
longer in the world! "
" Unhappy

knight,

what

answers the fair maiden.

ravest

thou ? "

" There is no one

THE FERENTAIi'g DAUGHTER.

37

here to welcome thee, not even thy bride; but
if thou canst

not live

without me, O my

beloved, I will go with thee to the wars."
They both mount upon their coursers, and as
they ride through the lovely and shady valleys
these words are long heard through the silence
of the night—
" If thou canst not live without me,' 0 my
beloved, I can go with thee to the wars, and we
can

die together

beloved."

for

our

country,

O my

38

BOUJOR.

BOUJOR.
BOUJOR

the robber is making the whole

country ring with the fame of his crimes.
never murders anybody;

He

but he hates the

Boyars, and whenever any of them fall into
his hands he compels them to give money to
the poor.
" U p my merry men!" cries Boujor to his
band; " follow me; I know the way we must take
over the mountain.

I know the spot where the

flocks are feeding and the limpid waters flow.
I know the place where we shall find gold and
young maidens, and pretty wives."

While the

band prepare to depart there is a soft voice
heard through the valley—the voice of a young
girl.

Boujor is pleading to her for a kiss.

On

BOUJOR.

39

the banks of a rivulet two young women are
washing the corn; Boujor has his arm encircling
their waists.

A fair maid is gathering flowers in

her garden;

and it is again Boujor who is

whispering of love to her.
At the frontier town of Focchiani there is an
old road-side inn standing in the shadow of some
trees.

Boujor has arrive^ there, and is soon by

the side of Anitza, the beautiful hostess.

She

intoxicates the brigand chief with kisses and his
followers with wine.
"Anitza, my beloved," says the insinuating
Boujor, who seems to have been as fond of the
ladies as an Irishman, " may I ask thee for a
scarlet flower ? thou wilt find it on thy lips."
" I will give thee the flower, Stefanica Boujor,"
replies the hostess; "come, cull it with thy
kisses; but drink no wine, for the Poterasi are
near us."
" L e t them come, I fear not," replies Boujor,
boldly; " my sabre lies upon the board."
The consequence of this is that Boujor comes

40

BOUJOR.

to grief, as most vain-glorious people do.

He

neglects the warning of the pretty hostess.

The

Poterasi arrive, and he is borne away to prison.
The court is struck with awe at his appearance*
" Famous Stefanica," asks the judge, respectfully, putting the usual question, " how many
men hast thou murdered ? "
The robber replies, scornfully, that he has
never murdered anybody, but that he has beaten
a great many Boyars.
"Stefanica," then says the judge, "if thou
wouldst live, say where thy riches are hidden."
" I have hidden my wealth in the hollows of
trees, that the poor may find it," answers the
robber, coldly.
The next day Boujor dies upon the scaffold,
and the poor mourn over him, for they have lost
a friend.

FAT L0G0FAT.

41

FAT LOGOFAT.
" O H stay! Fat Logofat! of the fair wavy
locks, for yonder upon the hill top a black
Balaur is awaiting thee."
" Fair maiden with the laughing mien and
with the silken sash, I fear not the Balaur, for I
am armed."
" Eash youth, with thy glance of fire and handsome with all beauty, the Balaur is strong and
wicked; oh stay ! "
"Angel of the stars, with the dove-eyes and
lily cheeks, the Zmeui all tremble at my name."
" Great warrior, with thy gilded arms and with
thy gentle voice, the Balaur plants his footsteps
on the mountain and touches the violet skies
with his lofty crest."

42

FAT L0G0FAT.

" Bird of the mountains with thy flower-dyed
wings, when I bestride my murgo he can spring
with me from sea to sea, and his feet spurn the
clouds."
"0

Fat Logofat, with the wavy hair and

gentle voice, with the bright smile and fearless
heart, do not leave these halls; for I love thee.
Oh stay! "
" Sweet maid, with every beauty, if thou lovest
me then will I try to be worthy of thy love."
So, deaf to the pleading of the maiden, he
kills the Balaur and returns to make her his
bride.

43

SALGA.

SALGA.
ON the banks of the Danube, near the dwelling
of Saiga, there is a band of brigands.

They

flash their paloshes in the eyes of the Schobani,
and the Schobani allow themselves to be bound
without resistance.
all killed.

Their faithful dogs too are

But it is against Bacio, the chief of

the shepherds, that the anger of the robbers
is chiefly directed.

He is seized and bound.

" Captain Earakatuci Vatachel of five hundred
Haiduci! " cries Bacia, " if you have ever done
a good action, do one now and unbind my
hands."

The robber complies, and the captive

shepherd takes a bricium d'ore from his bosom,
and the valleys soon resound with its tender and
appealing notes.

44

SALGA.

The leaves on the trees tremble, and the fish
come up to the surface of the listening waves of
the Danube.
The beautiful Saiga, the lady of the valley,
hears the plaintive echoes from afar, and tells
her mother-in-law that she fears the Schobani
have lost their horses or mistaken their road,
and so fallen into the hands of the brigands.
Elderly mothers-in-law, however, have usually
no confidence in anything.

They are as a rule

averse to being disturbed; she therefore considers the question will be best disposed of by
Saiga going to bed.

The Schobani, she says,

always play those melancholy tunes when they
think of home,

This sensible speech, however,

is hardly ended when the same sound is heard
again, but still more wild and plaintive.
" U p ! u p ! my braves," cries Saiga, refusing
any further parley with her mother-in-law.

" To

your arms! and saddle my steed; I will ride
with you to the rescue."
She speaks, and mounting on horseback she

SALGA.

45

rides towards the Danube with her followers
shouting, whistling, and brandishing their arms
in the air.
The brigands, who perceive her approach, take
hastily to flight; Saiga pursues them crying—
" Hold, hold ! whither so fast, Earakatuci
Vatachel of the five hundred Haiduci ! Wait at
least to wrestle with me the Luptadrepta, or to
parley and handle our arms; for I have sworn
that I will teach thee, bold youth, how to bind
the arms of shepherds, and to steal their flocks/'
Captain Earakatuci Vatachel of the five hundred
Haiduci however rides on, never daring even
to turn his eyes,

But Saiga follows close after

him, and at length overtaking him she cuts off
his head and

avenges the

Schobani; thus

showing what even the feeble arm of a woman
can do in a just cause.

THE

MALEDICTION.

THE MALEDICTION.
A YOUTH and a maiden are ascending a steep
mountain.
his courser.

The youth sings gaily, and caresses
But the maiden walks wearily by

his side, ever sighing.
" Let me mount up behind thee, young lover,"
she pleads gently, " for I am tired; the road is
stony and I cannot walk."
" I would take thee up behind," replies the
youth, " but I cannot.

My charger is small and

his feet are delicate.

He can now hardly bear

my body and its sins, my harness and my arms."
" Thy heart is pitiless," answers the girl
wildly.

" Thou hast stolen me from my kindred,

and now abandon me in this desert!

God grant

that thou thyself may fall into slavery among the

THE MALEDICTION.

47

Turks, that thy feet and hands may be shackled
with irons, that love and remorse may haunt thee
in thy saddest days, that my misery may come
home to thee, that thy steed may fail thee, that
thou mayst bite the dust in shame, that thou
< mayst be nine times wedded and have nine
sons; then, that thou mayst marry again, and
have a daughter ere one comes to bring thee
water in thy prison."
But the youth still rides a-singing on his way.*
* There is something very naive and Wallack about this
ballad.

48

RICH AND POOR.

EIOH AND POOR.
A

LITTLE

below the mill there is a small inn,

and there side by side sit two wayfarers, a rich
man and poor one.

The rich man's heart swells

with pride as he gives the host a ban to bring
some wine for his companion.
The poor man, however, laughs disdainfully,
and calling the host, he gives him a zlot, and
proposes in turn to treat his neighbour.
" Poor wretch !" cries the rich man, " wouldst
thou compare thyself with me ?

Thou hast not

even a shirt, while my flocks and herds cover the
plain.

Thou canst not offer wine to me ; we are

not equals."
" What matters ? " answers the poor man. " If
you have lands and wealth, are not riches like the

RICH AND POOR.

49

mountain torrent, which to-day swells and roars
in the sunshine, but to-morrow is dried up ?
Hast thou not as many cares as cattle ? for
wherever the flock is there is the wolf also."
" Poor wretch!" replies the rich man ; " I
would have had pity on thee, but for thy sneer."
"And thou Miserable, with all thy wealth,"
answers the poor man.

" If thou hast flocks and

herds, I have banquets of fruits and flowers.
Thou hast gold in thy kimir (girdle); I have a
palosh in mine, to protect life and honour.
Thou hast stately halls; I have the wide plain
with the azure sky all spangled over with gold
for roof.

What it takes" thee a whole summer

to win, I can gain by robbery in a single day.
What ho ! then, mine host!
and fear not for the cost.

Bring wine enough*
When the poor man

treats his friends, he pays for the feast with his
blood!"

50

MIHO THE YOUNG.

MIHO THE YOUNG.

UPON

a narrow path of Mont Barlat stands

Miho the Young with the air of a peacock.

He

beguiles the silence of the rocks with his flute,
I t is midnight when he mounts his little horse.
The forest is gloomy, the night dark, and the
road very rough.

The flints flash fire under the

hoofs of his steed.

He passes by, and disap-

pears in the forest.

He breaks away the green

wood noisily with his hands, and the rocks
resound with the crash,

He passes, and speaks

thus to his steed—
" U p ! up ! my little murgo.

Do not leave the

beaten track, or we shall fall into the chasm.
Does the saddle gall thee, or the bridle pinch,
that thou laggest so ?"

MIHO T H E

51

YOUNG.

, " Master, the saddle does not gall, or the bridle
pinch me," answers the murgo,

" That which

irks me is, that I know forty and five brigands
lurk near here.

They are feasting in yonder

valley, beneath the rock on the borders of the
forest.

They have a stone table, split into four

parts, and inscribed with golden letters like that
of a book.

Yanousch, the Hungarian, is sitting

with them: his long beard, grown gray in crimes,
falls upon his breast, and descends beneath his
broad belt.
heart.

He has a keen sword and a hard

Near him are some bold

Hungarian

youths, who left their parents when but children.
They are brave and enterprising; they have empty
purses and broad shoulders ; they wear high hats,
and long hair which falls upon their shoulders.
Woe to thee and to me if they hear us !"
" On! on! my steed! and fear not; for I am
stout-hearted.

Trust to my strong arm, my

broad chest, and my terrible sword !"
The little horse continues his road, and Miho
speaks again—
E 2

52

MIHO T H E

" On!

on!

YOUNG.

my little murgo!

valley, where the

to

yonder

beautiful woods are

car-

peted with green grass, and the wild flowers
grow."
But Yanousch, who has risen from table to
toast one of his comrades, turns pale; for he
hears borne upon the breeze at intervals the
sound of some one singing.

The song is a song

sung by the braves; and then come the notes
of an ivory flute of intoxicating sweetness.

He

rises and addresses his band—
" Listen, lads, and belt on your swords ; for I
hear the sound of a flute coming through the
leaves of the forest.

Away ! and stop this min-

strel beneath yon poplar trees near the bridge.
If the traveller is a brave, let him go unharmed;
but if he is a dastardj spoiled by luxury and
wantonness, give him a box on the ear, and send
him about his business."
The Hungarians go away from the feast to
wait for Miho, who looks at them contemptuously, and says—

MIHO T H E

YOUNG,

53

" Brave warriors, he who sent you to waylay
nie desired only to get rid of you."
He speaks and draws his sword.

Some are

slain or wounded, and lie weltering in their
blood; the rest take to flight. Miho continues
his way through

the trees, and

approaches

Yanousch, the brigand chief.
" To your lances, my braves !" cries Yanousch.
" Strike him down with your lances ! Forward
with your carbines ! "
" Away with your lances and your carbines !"
answers the brave.

" I am Miho the Young;

and I only want to play upon my ivory flute." *
Miho plays upon his flute with an air so
passionate, but withal so soft and tender, that
* It might not be going too far to say, that the Wallachs
owe a great part of their national poetry to the passionate love
of music, and exquisite sense of the beauties of nature. Indeed,
I know nothing more touching than the wild simple tones of
the shepherds' pipes, as they come down from the mountains
with their straggling flocks and herds. Nor can I wonder that,
nourished in such scenes as are to be found among their native
hills, and soothed by such sounds, they delight in the
mysterious and supernatural. In giving the character of the
shepherd, you have almost that of the Wallachian people.

54

MIHO THE YOUNG.

the mountains answer, the eagles gather round,
the

fir-trees

wave, the torrents

stay

their

murmurs, and the stars sparkle and faint away.
The Hungarians are enchanted; and Yanousch,
changing his tone, invites the minstrel to supper.
" Sit down, my brave," he says, " and amuse
us during the feast; afterwards we will wrestle
together."
They sit down to table, making merry and
drinking toasts; but after the repast Miho the
Moldavian and Yanousch the Hungarian begin to
wrestle, the Hungarians watching keenly every
turn of the struggle.

The combatants press

their chests and knees together, and writhe and
grapple with each other like two lions.

But at

last Miho seizes Yanousch in his arms and
throws him to the ground; then placing him
upon his knees, draws the terrible sword, and
cuts the robber's head off.
The Hungarians are silent with amazement.
Miho throws down
them-—

his sword, and says to

MIHO THE YOUNG.

55

" Whoever among you is strong enough to lift
my sword as it lies there may follow me, and I
will be his chief."
The Hungarians try to raise the sword, but in
vain.
Then Miho says to them contemptuously—
" Leave the woods, my lads, and return again
to the plough.

You will make better husband-

men than robbers."
After which he picks up the sword, mounts
his horse, and rides away, making the woods
musical with the tones of his ivory flute, so
tender and passionate.*
* I have given this ballad and the following a translation
almost word for word, that the reader may see something more
of the style than in the others.

56

T H E RING- AND T H E H A N D K E R C H I E F .

THE RING AND THE HANDKERCHIEF.
H E was the son of a king, young and strong
as the fir-tree of the rocks.

He had wedded a

young maiden, a daughter of the people, loved
by all who looked upon her.

She was fair as

the flower of the field, or as the first beams of
the morning.
And when the Prince was called away to the
wars, he said to her, " My dear wife, take this
little ring, and wear it for my sake.

If it turns

black thou wilt know that I am dead."
"My dear

husband," answered his bride,

"take thou also this handkerchief, embroidered
over with gold; if the gold wears away thou wilt
know that I am dead."
He mounts upon his courser, and rides away

THE RING AND THE HANDKERCHIEF.

57

to the war; but halts upon the way and reposes
beneath the shadow of the trees.

There he

gazes upon the handkerchief which his wife had
given him; his heart beats wildly.

" Wait for
*
me here, my dear and gallant comrades. I have
forgotten my trusty sword," says the Prince.
He speaks and retraces his steps; but on the
road he meets a page on horseback. " Welcome !
my brave lad! what news?

Whence comest

thou ? " asks the Prince eagerly.
" My lord, the tidings I bring may be glad to
others, but not to thee; thy sire has cast thy
bride into the river."
At the words of the page tears come into the
young Prince's eyes.

" Take my steed, boy, and

lead it to my sire.

If he asks thee what has

become of me, say that I plunged into the river
to seek my beloved wife."
The King causes the bed of the river to be
dried u p ; they find his two children stretched
upon the sands—his children, with their golden
hair and rosy cheeks !

58

THE -RING AND THE HANDKEKCHIEF.

They are borne to the church and buried
there.

The young Prince is buried beneath the

altar, and towards the east; and hi& bride in the
aisle, towards the west.

Over the tomb of

the youth there grows a yew-tree which overshadows the church; and the tomb of his bride
is festooned with the tender shoots of the vine
which spread and mingle with the branches of
the beloved yew-tree.

GRUE GR0SAVUL.

59

GRUE GEOSAVUL.

NEAR Jalpen^ on the banks of the Neister, is a
mountain whose summit reached the heavens.
It is inhabited by the Smeoe and the Zernoe;
but upon it is encamped an army, whose tents
spread far and wide.

Above all the rest rises a

tent made of carpets of many colours; it has
silken cords and silver pegs to fasten them.

It

is so magnificent that it might be the tent of a
queen from a far country.
There lays Ghirai, the aged Khan of the
Tartars ; his dress is simple, and his only weapon
a handjar, mounted with precious stones* Arouncl
him are a band of small-eyed Tartars; they are
kneeling before the Khan upon a soft carpet;
but at the door of the tent is a Eounian, with his

60

GRUE

GROSAVUL.

arms bound; it is Grue Grosavul.

Two Tartars

are preparing a stake to impale him; two others
loading him with taunts and insults; but Grue
is singing joyously.
The Tartar women also, the mazaques, or
wives of the chiefs of the army, appear before
the Khan, and thus address him, "Avenge us,
O Khan, upon this man Grue, for he has slain
many of our people; he has made their wives
widows, and their daughters orphans; he has
devastated the Boujak and half of the Crimea."
So the Khan draws his sword, and says to Grue
in a terrible voice, " Grue !—renowned, brave !—
hope no mercy from me ; but tell me hast thou
indeed slain many Tartars ? "

Grue answers

tauntingly, "Venerable Lord Khan, leave thy
sword in thy belt, for I am a Boumaii, and cannot
quake before a pagan.

I care not for thy mercy,

but I will tell the truth.

I have killed a great

many Tartars since I invaded the Boujak. I have
made many widows, and your maidens have wept
themselves old because of me.

When I passed

61

GRUE GROSAVUL.

the Pruth I had a bridge made to carry home
my riches, and my chariots were laden with
young women (mursaques).

But put up thy

sword, my venerable Lord Khan; let me die as a
Christian, not as a pagan.

Let me confess to a

Christian priest, for I am a great sinner.

I

defiled thy sister; I slew thy mother; and I cut
off thy brother's head."
The Khan forgot his sword as he gazed on
the terrible captain, and commanded a guard of
fifty strong men to accompany Grue to a confessor.

While the Tartars are conducting him

thither he makes the sign of the cross, and,
calling on God for help, he springs upon the
Tartars.

He soon makes himself master of a

sword, and fights like an angry lion.

The

Tartars take to flight.
Grue now goes into the stables of the Klian;
at the door he meets a black horse, ready caparisoned, who has never seen the sun.

He

springs upon this horse, and embraces i t ; thus
mounted he appears before the Khan, green and

62

GRUE GR0SAVUL.

ominous sparks flashing from his eyes.

The

Khan sighs, and offers him pardon and liberty,
merely preferring a request that he will never
part with his horse to a "Wallack.
Grue replies, with a scornful laugh, " Knows
not the venerable Lord Khan that I am a
Eouman, and therefore the brother of every
generous steed?
horse;

Fear not therefore for the

but if thou hast any more such, and

gallant cavaliers to ride them, bid them mount
and follow me into yon sweet valley."
The Khan makes a sign, and the Tartars are
soon on horseback.

They hasten down into the

valley, forming into rank, and defile one by one
in hot pursuit of the fugitive.

The black horse,

ridden by Grue, however, does not go as horses
usually gallop, but springs over dyke and morass
like a hare.
" Poor pagan Tartars! you will never see tomorrow's sun ! For lo! Grue makes a sudden
halt; and, springing upon you with his mad
black steed, sabres you down one after the

GRUE GR0SAVUL.

other.

63

He takes away your riches and cures

your ills."
Grue subsequently passes

into

where his end is very edifying.

Moldavia,

He converts

the pagans, and baptises them, giving a tretin to
every male convert, and a tretine to every female
after the ceremony.

He also gives dowers to

maidens when they marry, and builds churches
for their weddings, without being ever again
disturbed by the Tartars.

64

T H E SUN AND T H E

MOON.

THE SUN AND THE MOON.
FOR nine long years the .bright sun has been
seeking for a bride, and nine coursers have
grown weary with the fatigue of his journeys;
for he has travelled through earth and air with
the speed of an arrow or the wind.

He has

tired his steeds, but he has not found a mate.
The only maiden who has met with favour in his
sight is his sister Ilena Cozinzena.
" Be my bride, sweet sister Ilena Cozinzena,"
pleads the brilliant Day God ; " our hair is of
the same golden hue, and we are equally beautiful.

I am the brighter, but thou the gentler ;

mine eyes are the most ardent, but thine are the
most soft."
" 0 bright and spotless brother," answers

T H E SUN AND T H E

MOON.

65

Ilena Cozinzena, mournfully; " a brother and a
sister may not marry, for it would be a sin!"
The Sun darkens at these words, and addresses himself to God, praying that he may
marry his sister Ilena Cozinzena, since in earth
or air there is no maiden so beautiful.
The angry Deity motions him to follow, and
leads him through hell and paradise; through
the one to frighten the Sun, and through the
other to delight him.

He then bids him choose

between them.
And the Sun shining

brightly answers—

" Better hell than that I should wander for ever
lonely through the world ! Yes, even hell with
Ilena Cozinzena."
Then the Sun returns to his betrothed, and
places a crown of gold upon her brow; the
crown of a queen.

He gives her also a robe

made of precious stones of as many colours as
the rainbow, and then leads her rebelliously
to the altar.
But there the lamps go out, and the walls of

66

THE SUN AND THE MOON.

the temple shake and tremble.

The priests are

struck dumb and their sacred robes fall

off.

The beautiful bride, horror stricken, sees an iron
hand descend from the heavens; it seizes and
casts her into the sea.
Then the Sun grows pale, and rising into the
air, he sets towards the west, descending into the
waters, where his bride has disappeared.
But the offended Deity stretches forth his
hand over the sea, and changing Ilena Cozinzena
into a golden sphere, she becomes the Moon.
An awful voice is then heard in the heavens,
pronouncing

the

doom

of the

disobedient.

" Thou Ilena Cozinzena, and thou bright and
spotless Sun!

Ye shall gaze upon each other

from afar, and follow each other through illimitable space for evermore,
never!"

drawing nearer

BOGDAN.

67

BOGDAN.
UPON

his throne of gold is seated Stefan, the

famous Domn of Moldavia.

The hall is filled

with rich and brave Boyars, and with Hetmans
and Vestiars.

Suddenly a ray of light seems to

gleam upon the assembly, but it does not proceed
from the sun or the stars: it is Bogdan, the
young Prince who is kneeling before his aged sire.
" G r a n t me; O my father/' says the Prince,
" permission to wed with the maiden I love !
She is not the daughter of a king, but of a
wealthy renegade; yet she is beautiful as a star,
gentle as a bird, modest as a flower."
Stefan gives Bogdan his benediction and embraces him.

The young Prince then departs

for the house of his bride, accompanied by an
F 2

68

BOGDAN.

escort of fifty brave and handsome youths.
"When they arrive there, however, the maiden's
father closes the gates upon them and announces,
"that whoever is to be his son-in-law must
spring over the wall and open the gate for
himself; that the renegade may judge of the
strength and ability of his future kinsman."
The young Prince springs over the wall and
opens the gate.
The .renegade twirls his moustache with great
satisfaction at this feat, but being naturally a
man of a doubting character, he introduces the
Prince to three young ladies all exactly resembling

each other and

equally

beautiful.

They are like three flowers on one stem.

The

Prince gazes upon them, and his eyes sparkle.
But the renegade, resolving to prove the Prince's
discernment thoroughly, before admitting him
into his family, has another trial in store, and
says that his future son-in-law must recognise
his bride before he will be allowed to marry her.
Then Bogdan after a little reflection, bethinks

B0GDAN.

69

him of a notable plan to get out of his embarrassment.

He takes the ring from his finger and

throwing it haughtily down on the carpet, says,
he has a sabre which can cut off young ladies'
heads; but, that whoever will overlook this
circumstance and take him as he is, may pick up
the ring.

His bride, the youngest of the sisters,

meantime recognising him, she kneels down on
the carpet and picks up the ring; though her eyes
are blinded with tears, and she looks like a lily
overcharged with dew and bending in the breeze.
When she has meekly placed the ring upon
her finger, Bogdan kisses her forehead, and the
trial of his skill being now considered satisfactory, the Prince and his Doins lead the young
lady to the altar.

There is a

magnificent

wedding procession; the Doins being followed
by their ladies, who look like a moving flower
garden; while wild bands, handsome young
cavaliers, whirl their managed coursers round
and round in fantastic evolutions, discharging
their fire-arms in the air,

70

THE

TARTAR.

THE TARTAR.

"

rein in thy steed ! Hold fast thy

TARTAR,

bridle, Tartar!

Tartar, try not to pass the river;

or, by the cross of my father there shall remain
no vestige of thee or of thy steed, Tartar!"
*

*

&

*

&
-

*

" Tartar ! where is now thy sword, and where
thy gallant steed?

Where is thy pride, Tartar ?

I warned thee not to pass thp river; and now
the crow is feeding on thy bosom, Tartar ! "

CONSTANDIN BRANCOVANO*

71

CONSTANDIN BBANCOVANO.
" To arms ! my Braves, to arms !

Gird on

your swords, and seize your trustiest spears, for
a pasha is bearing down upon us with his pagan
army."
So cries Brancovano;

but he has hardly

spoken, when the Turkish hordes appear iii
sight, and after an obstinate battle he and his
three sons are taken prisoners.

They are put

on board a vessel and carried to a fortress by the
seaside.
"Constandin Brancovano," says the pasha;
" if thou wouldst save the lives of thy children^
thou must become a Turk."
" Pagan infidel," replies the Christian prince
disdainfully.

" Thou mayst murder my children,

72

CONSTANDIN BRANCOVANO,

but I will not abandon my faith.
as thou wilt.'

Do with us

1

The pasha grows pale with rage, and sends for
two black executioners.

They choose the eldest

of the children, a fair-haired delicate boy, and
place him upon a chair.

After his eyes, which

are wet with tears, have been bandaged, he is
beheaded.
A deep sigh breaks from the stern heart of
the bereaved father, but he only says, "Lord,
thy will be done."
The executioners then take his second child,
wliose golden hair curls in clusters over his little
forehead, and whose large blue eyes are swollen
with crying.

He is beheaded also.

Brancovano sighs again, and his pale lips
repeat the same pious ejaculation as before.
The pasha is moved by such fortitude, and his
heart feels a momentary pity. " Thou hadst three
children, Brancovano," says the pasha, pausing
a moment in his bloody work, " thou hast lost
two, but—save the third."

CONSTANDIN BBANCOVANO.

73

" God is great," answers the broken-hearted
lather.

" I was born a Rouman and a Christian;

so will I die."

Then, turning to his sole remain-

ing son, he says : " And thou, my little child,
do not weep, lest thou shouldst unman me; but
die in the true faith, and thou shalt inherit the
skies."

The pasha then makes the fatal sign,

and the third child is placed on a chair and
beheaded also.
" Thy will be done, Lord!" ejaculates Brancovano once again, and then everything grows
dark to his eyes ; his heart is breaking.
" May my curse light upon you, 0 Turks,"
he cries at last, in his anguish, "for having
murdered my children.

May you be yet swept

from the earth like clouds before the wind.

May

you lie unburied, and have no child to close your
eyes."
Brancovano falls also beneath the same sword
as his children, while the Turks surround him
and ask tauntingly, " where are his children."
" Turks and Tartars, wicked r a c e ! " now

74

CONSTANDIN

BRANCOVANO;

exclaims the author, unable any longer to suppress his indignation at these proceedings.

" Ye

may also some day murder me, but the world
shall nevertheless learn that Constandin Brancovano died like a hero and a Eouman."

SERB SERAC.

75

SEKB SEEAC.
—«—
IN the streets of the city of Stamboul wanders
Serb Serac*

He is young and handsome, but so

poor that his equal in poverty is not to be found
anywhere.

These are good times, however, for

handsome adventurers, and a fair face is always
a fortune.

He is mounted upon a noble courser,

and he wanders first to the right and then to the
left; taking now one Street and now another;
while his horse neighs so loudly, that the Turks
perceiving it is one of the famous breed of the
Boujak, offer the rider its weight in gold to sell
it.

Serb Serac answers " t h a t he will not sell

his horse, because it is swift and beautiful, and
shaped like a little Zmeu."
Meantime the Sultan's niece, who is daughter
to the Khan of Tartary, chances to see Serb

76

SERB SERAC.

Serac riding upon his nohle horse, while looking
through the rafas of her lattice.

She falls in

love with the handsome cavalier, and telling him
so with charming naivete, bids him come beneath
her window.

There she gives him enough inzluci

(Turkish money), to have his horse shod with
silver, that he may go the swifter.

She tells him

also that to-day being Wednesday, to-morrow is
Thursday, when the Turks ride a race for the
Halca, at Haida Pasha.

He who wins the prize

is to be her husband.
Serb Serac assures her of his devotion, and
promises to ride swift as the storm, if she will
only repeat that she loves him. .
The daughter of the Khan of Tartary replies
with the same unembarrassed frankness as before,
" t h a t she loves the stranger horseman dearly,
but that she fears he will be outridden by the
Cuzlar Agassi, or Chief of the Eunuchs.

The

Cuzlar Agassi is a black man, with thick lips,
who has a steed restless as quicksilver, and
which has never seen the sun."

SERB SEEAC.

77

The Servian, who has not very correct ideas as
to the rights of property, immediately asks where
this horse is kept.
" A l a s ! " replies the lady, despondingly, " i t
is kept in an obscure cavern underground."
" "With what is the horse fed ? " asks Serb Serac,
after a little reflection; perhaps he may be able
to poison it.
" With the enchanted trifoi, gathered on the
plains of Boujak," again returns the Khan of
Tartary's daughter.
"What does he give the horse to

drink

now? " asks the Servian, whose resources appear
inexhaustible.
" Mare's milk !" replies the Princess, sadly,
" and much I fear, that if the Cuzlar Agassi rides
in the race, he will claim my hand."
" Fear n o t ! " says the Servian, regaining his
courage.

" There is no horse equal to mine;

I catch all I pursue, I pass by even the birds in
their flight."
" S o Wednesday passes, and Thursday comes,^

78

SERB SERAC.

observes the poet, endeavouring by this simple
art to prolong the interest of his narrative.

It

is the race-day, and every one is flocking to
Haidar Pasha,

There, in the shadow of some

far-spreading trees is the Sultan, surrounded by
a brilliant court.

His highness strokes his black

beard, and watches every movement of the riders,
among whom is his future kinsman.
* Allah!" ejaculates the poet, "what
*
steeds from Tartary.

Allah!

swift

what beautiful

Arabians, whose feet move like the wings of
eagles in the air."

The excitement grows

intense; but the black Cuzlar Agassi surpasses
all the rest.

Woe, woe to the niece of the

Sultan, the daughter of the King of Tartary.
Just at this crisis, however, Serb Serac appears
upon his Boujak steed ; he passes by the Cuzlar
Agassi, and distances him easily.
Still the wily negro is not easily disposed of;
he tries the subtle craft of his race; and, perceiving that Serb Serac's horse is shod with
silver, he calls to him that one of the precious

79

S E R B SERAO.

shoes has fallen off; at the same time he pays
the Servian a compliment on his hright eyes. The
trick is successful.

When was youth a match

for age in wiles ?

Serb Serac draws rein, and,

examining the feet of his murgo, finds that he has
been deceived.

He mounts with the speed of a

lion's spring, and urges on his horse; every time
he strikes the murgo springs a length of seven
stangin; at this pace he soon comes side by side
with the Cuzlar Aga. They are stirrup to stirrup,
saddle to saddle, and rein to rein.

Serb Serac

then strikes the negro, and he falls to the ground
like a felled-tree. A notable lesson for all deceivers.
The Servian now gallops on his course; and,
seizing the Halca, returns and presents it to the
Sultan.
The daughter of the Khan of Tartary is watching the return of her lover anxiously, and seated
in the highest bower of the garden ; but when he
is conducted to the seraglio, and the maiden is
led out to meet him, she casts down her eyes.
Such is woman!

80

T H E EOSE AND T H E

SUN.

THE EOSE AND THE SUN.
I T is early morning, and a young Princess
comes down into her garden to bathe in the
silver waves of the sea.

The transparent white-

ness of her complexion is seen through the
slight veil which covers it, and shines through
the blue waves like the morning star in an
azure sky.
She springs into the sea, and mingles with the
silvery rays of the sun, which sparkle on the
dimples of the laughing waves.
The Sun stands still to gaze upon her; he
covers her with kisses, and forgets his duty.
Once, twice, thrice has the Night advanced to
take her sceptre and reign over the world.
Thrice has she found the Sun upon her way.

THE ROSE AND THE SUN.

81

Since that day the Lord of the Universe has
changed the princess into a rose; and this is
why the rose always hangs her head, and blushes
when the Sun gazes on her.

G

83

VIDUA.

VIDUA.
VIDUA,

the Catonitza, is wandering through

the forest; with her go a band of twelve musicians and three horses laden with sacks of gold.
Beside her is Stoen Soimu, the false priest, with
his potcop falling over his ears; he has quitted
his holy calling to become a brigand.
and the
embracing

priest walk on

Vidra

in the

moonlight,

each other, while the

mountains

ring to the music of the band.

So the day

passes.
The next morning Stoen washes his face and
combs his black hair, after which he bids Vidra
make some colaks* for his braves, and then
proposes to set out in the costiga with two
* Cakes.

83

VIDUA.

oxen to see their parents, who live beyond the
mountains.
They depart at daybreak on this expedition
and- Stoen urges the oxen upon the road with
inconsiderate speed; they groan with pain and
weariness; the costiga creaks ominously; but
they still push on, and at noonday they dine
upon the grass beneath the shadow of some
spreading trees.

Vidra prepares

the

feast,

thinking of nothing beyond the enjoyment of
the hour as it flies.
Suddenly Stoen remembers that Vidra has
never sung to him since their marriage, and he bids
her sing one of the songs the brigands love best;
he says it will make him young again to hear her.
• - Stoen, ask it not," replies Vidra.
•

" If I sing

a robber song in the soft voice of a woman, the
waters will grow troubled;

the fir-trees will

bend; the mountains tremble; and the echoes
will carry my song to the Paunas of the mountains.

The lover of all women and maidens—

the brave of braves—will hear me."
G 2

84

VIDUA.

" Fear not," answers her companion;, "for I
am Stoen the priest, and Satan himself trembles
before me ! "
• Vidra sings, and the terrible Paunas at once
makes his appearance.
" What ho! Longbeard, the priest of yesterday, the brigand of to-day," says the redoubtable Paunas, "what brings you here upon
my lands ? "
" Of what lands do you speak, miserable
wretch?" answers

Stoen.

"The

lands are

neither thine nor mine, but God's ! "
" Ho, ho ! Stoen, with the long beard," laughs
the Paunas scornfully;

" many words waste

time; give up thy pretty Vidra, and begone."
" N o t so, my friend," answers the brigand;
"thou must first win her."
" Give me then thy steed, and depart in
peace," says the Paunas.
"Nay," replies Stoen; " m y horse is a gift
from my father-in-law."
" Give me then thy poignard, to atone for this

85

VIDUA.

trespass on my lands," says the Paunas, growing
reasonable.
" Take it, my little friend," answers the priest,
" if thine arm is as strong as thy words are big."
They then begin to wrestle; after the struggle
has lasted some minutes Stoen begins to give
way; his belt falls to the ground, and his
poignard galls him.
" Help ! help!

Vidra ! "

cries the priest.

" Come quickly, and gird on my belt."
" Nay, Stoen Soimu," replies his wife; " the
struggle must be fair, and he who conquers shall
be my husband."
When Stoen hears this he grows furious with
rage; and, seizing his adversary with his whole
strength, overthrows him in the dust, and then
cuts off his head.

Then, returning to his wife

with a terrible frown, he says—
" When I was struggling for my life I called
on thee for help ; but thou hadst no pity on me.
Is this true ? "
" It is true, Stoen.

I said, and I would say

VIDRA.

again," answers. the Catonitza bravely, " that I
love a man who can fight without the aid of a
woman."
Stoen then bids her prepare for death.
He now proceeds alone to the house of his
mother-in-law, who asks him for her daughter.
" She is yonder in the fields," answers Stoen;
but he has scarcely spoken when he falls down
dead.

THE MAID OF C0SIA.

87

THE MAID OF COSIA.
T H E foe are flying, for their chieftain is slain,
and the Boumans, intoxicated with victory,
repose beneath their tents.

All gather round a

young man of gentle mien, who has performed
prodigies of valour.
" Behold !" cry the fierce warriors of Thepesch
the Duke.

"Behold, O Domn! the young

captain, who slew the chief of our foes and so
won the victory."
The Duke of the Wallachs receives the young
chieftain warmly.

He embraces, and places him

on his right hand.
" Will'st thou gold or titles ?" asks the duke.
" Thou shalt have all thou canst desire."
" I wish for neither gold nor titles, 0 Domn,"

88

T H E MAID OF C0SIA.

answers the young captain proudly.

" I came

to fight against the enemies of my country, not
in the vile hope of gaining riches."
Then says the Duke, " Thou art young and
handsome; I will give you the hand of my
daughter in marriage."
The young captain replies archly, that the
Duke's daughter is indeed modest and beautiful, but that she must find another husband.
As he speaks he raises his glittering helmet, and
as its plume of white and scarlet sweeps the
ground, long golden locks fall down to the young
warrior's shoulders.

The braves around are

enchanted, and a young virgin beautiful

as

happiness stands confessed before them.
But the Duke's son is more than all captivated.
" List young and gentle girl," pleads the Prince.
" If thou wilt be my bride, I swear to live and
die for thee only."
At these words the young maid blushes, like a
rose in early summer.

She then inclines her

head, and shading her dark blue eyes with their

THE MAID OF COSIA.

89

golden lashes, she answers—" If thou wouldst
win me for a bride, sir Knight, thou must live
and die for thy country."

90

THE DOVE AND THE COUCOU.

THE DOVE AND THE COUCOU.
The Coucou.—Pretty Dove, sweet little bird,
wilt thou be my love ?
The

Dove.—I would love thee indeed for

thine own sake, but I cannot because of thy
mother.

She is jealous.

If I were to love thee

she would say that I loved thee too much, and
scold when I caressed thee.
The Coucou.—Do not be so cruel, pretty Dove.
Be, oh be my bride!
The Dove.—Nay!
thee.

I will not even listen to

Leave me alone, for to escape thy kisses

I will take the form of a reed !
The Coucou.—Whatever form thou takest, yet
I will not leave thee.

If thou shouldst become

a reed, I will turn into a shepherd, and come to

THE DOVE AND THE COUCOU.

91

look for thee near the waters of the lake.

I

will take thee for a flute, and thus cover thee
ever with my burning kisses.
The Dove.—Nay, I will not listen to thee, my
little Coucou, my bird with the pretty speckled
plumage.

I tell thee again, I could love thee

were it not for thy mother; but to escape thy
kisses, I will take the form of a saint's image
in some quiet church.
The Coucou.—Whatever form thou takest, I
will follow thee ever!

I will change into a

demure little man, properly bigoted and hypocritical, and I will come into thy church.

There

I will pray to thee, and cover thee ever with my
kisses and tears; and thou shalt not escape from
me, my little Dove.*
* This appears to be a fragment, though there is enough to
show that lovers are as wilful, and mothers-in-law as redoubtable
in Wallachia as elsewhere.

92

BALAURUL THE SERPENT.

BALAURUL THE SERPENT.
I

HAVE

seen the pride of the fields; it was

by the road side, near the town of Paromb.

But

it was not a flower; it was the green eye of the
Balaur, which

should be neither

seen

nor

dreamed of.
He had devoured the half of a young man
well armed, and the youth cried, " H e l p me,
brave traveller, or

the serpent will swallow

me."
A beautiful youth on a black courser, who is
seen coming along the road, prepares to rescue
him.

But the serpent addresses him t h u s :

"Begone, thou rogue of a horseman, if thou
wilt not share the same fate as thy countryman!"
" Serpent," replied

the

cavalier, " if

you

BALAURUL THE SERPENT.

swallow up my poor brother

93

I will cut off

your head."
" Cut it off or not," answered the Balaur, " I
will not give up this man ; his mother gave him
to me when she rocked him as an infant in his
cradle, and said that the serpent should take
him if he did not sleep quietly."*
But the cavalier drew his sword and killed
the serpent.

He saved the youth and carried

him to a cottage.

There he bathed him in milk.

So the youth and the cavalier dwelt together for
ever afterwards, and passed their lives in killing
serpents.
* There seems to be a hidden political meaning in this.

THE

94

BANQUET.

THE BANQUET.
T H E warriors sleep beneath their tents, and
the moon like a sphere of gold rises slowly over
the mountain.

Michai the brave, however, is

seated upon a lofty rock, feasting with his
captains,

But his heart is not there, and he

alone covers his face with his august hands, in
deep thought.
Life passes away like the waters of a laughing
rivulet, when kind Hope but smiles upon us.

So

the hours winged their pleasant flight away, and
dark care kept far from the revellers.
The moonlight falls in a silver flood upon their
figures, and the south wind toys with their long
hair.

The goblets of gold are filled with the

generous vine of Catnari, and the captains drink

THE BANQUET.

to the health of their chief.

95

Michai the brave

rises:—
" Drink not life and health to me," answers
the famous chieftain, sadly, "for it is death that
I wish to you!

Life without freedom is a day

without the sun; a night without a star.

Those

who would live on beneath the yoke of a tyrant
merit their chains.
their destiny.

Their souls are as base as

But the Eouman loves not fields

without flowers, and days without festivals.

Cut

the wings of the eagle so that he cannot fly, and
he will disdain to live.
" So is the Eouman.

So let us be.

We will

never bow our heads tamely beneath the yoke of
a barbarian,

Let us drink then to death, not to

life; to the death of the patriot, not to the
health of the slave."

96

MICHAI SAVING THE STANDARD.

MICHAI SAVING THE STANDABD.

NIGHT

descends upon the world, and pearls

are falling from her eyes upon the flowers of
the field.
Well may the Night weep, for a hero, the last
warrior who still lives of the Wallachian army,
defends himself, single-handed, in the valley.
He is alone; Death cradles with his fleshless
hand the braves who have fallen into the sleep
of the tomb.
The warrior, unable to make head against his
foes, presses the standard to his heart, and his
fiery courser springs over every barrier and flies
with him through the gloom, like a pale phantom,
carried away by the winds.
His courser flies towards the banks of the

MICHAI SAVING THE STANDARD.

97

Moresch, the Hungarian cavaliers following close
upon him; while the moon, as she sits behind
the mountain, gives him a parting smile to light
him on his way.
The Wallach hero arrives upon the banks of
the river, and steed and rider spring together into
the roaring tide.

The Hungarian cavaliers draw

rein, affrighted.

Those who brave the river sink,

and re-appear no more.
Michai' crosses the water safely, and then unbridling his steed, embraces him, and exclaims :
•' Away ! thou art free for evermore."

98

MIHNEA D0MNU AND RUDOLPH CALOFIRESCO.

MIHNEA DOMNU AND EUDOLPH
CALOFIRESCO.
FAR away in the capital of Wallachia, the
greatest of the Boyards are feasting with their
Prince.
But who is that sitting at the bottom of the
table.

I t is the Prince Mihnea, and on his right

hand are the two brothers Bouzesci, and the
three brothers Caplesci.

They are the most

famous of his warriors, and the terror of the
foe.

During the banquet they compliment the

Prince.
Budolph Calofiresco, in hot

haste, kneels

before the Prince, disturbing the banquet.

He

is accompanied by his squire Nedea, who is his
bosom friend and counsellor.

MIHNEA DOMNU AND R U D O L P H CALOFIRESCO.

99

" Prince," exclaims Rudolph, " I wish you long
and happy years and many victories.

But

knowst not, my lord, that the Tartars have
ravaged my lands, and carried away my children,
my mother, and my young wife ?
" Give me the brothers Buzesci and Caplesci
to ride with me, and deliver my family from
captivity."
Mihnea listens to him attentively, and then
answers:—" Rudolph, thou art but a craven to
seek help; yet, wait till we have feasted and
slept; when we awake we will attend to thee."
Rudolph bites his lips, and turns pale.
" I t will be too late, my lord," he answers;
and then, mounting his horse, he departs with
his squire Nedea, and after three days' journey
he encounters the Tartars.
" Listen to me, master," says the squire;
" let us think no more of lands or lordship, but
only how to act as brave men.

Let us pray to

God for aid. Thou take to the right, I to the left ;
he who escapes thy sword will fall by mine." ,
H 2

100

MIHNEA DOMNU AND RUDOLPH CALOFIRESCO.

They fight with the Tartars from morning to
night, single-handed, and entirely destroy them;
but Eudolph does not find his mother.

Looking

afar, however, he sees a large and elegant tent,
and there is his mother struggling in the arms
of a Tartar.

He hastens to the tent, kills the

Tartar, and delivers his mother.
When he has placed his mother in safety, the
Brothers Buzesci and the three Caplesci arrive.
" Good morrow, brothers; what wind blows
you h i t h e r ? " asks the victorious knight sarcastically.

" We are come to break a lance with

thee, and divert ourselves," reply the brothers.
They tilt on horseback, their squires looking on,
and at the first onset the lances are shattered;
they then draw their swords, and continue the
sport.
But when Eudolph has his back turned all
five rush upon him and cut off his head.

They

put his head on a salver and present it to
Prince Mihnea, with the false accusation that if
Eudolph had still lived he would have usurped

MIHNEA DOMNIT AND RUDOLPH CALOFIKESCO.

the throne.

101

They then ask for his children as

slaves; * they have hardly spoken, however,
when the mother of Eudolph appears with his
faithful squire, and they both kneel before the
prince, calling loudly for justice on the unknightly murderers.

And, " 0 Prince ! " says

the mother of the slain chief, " Eudolph was thy
brother ! I gave birth to him; thy father was
my lover."
The prince sighs, kissing the hand of the
venerable dame.

He does justice to her, by

executing the assassins of her son.
* There are still slaves in the East.

102

MIRCEA BEFORE NICOPOLIS.

MIRCEA BEFORE NICOPOLIS.
T H E enemy have invaded the country of the
Eoumans; but the Duke does not lose courage,
and hastens to meet them with a little army of
braves.

I t is not in the hope of saving his

country that he raises his standard and rides
to the battle; he goes to fulfil a sacred duty.
Where are now the grand old times, when all
knew how to die for duty?
He rides through the daylight and the darkness* mounted upon a wild courser, and the
rising sun caresses his hair, white as the snow
on the Carpathians.
"My

children," then says Mircea to his

braves, " God has preserved my life until this
* Twilight.

MIRCEA BEFORE NICOPOLIS.

day that I might die like a hero.

103

What is the

life of one man to the life of a people ? I t is
as one flower to the springtime, as an hour to
eternity.

They say that the proud eagle of the

rocks when hemmed in by the hunters will kill
the young ones in his nest rather than see them
captured.

So, like the £agle of the rocks, I

would rather see my children die than live in
slavery!"
Oh! when will the grand old time return when
a Eouman will choose a glorious death instead of
the life of a slave ?

104

MICHAI.

MICHAI THE BKAVE AND THE
EXECUTIONER.
I T is the hour when the butterfly spreads his
wing bathed in dew, and springing from his bed
of flowers flies on a sunbeam towards the skies.
Michai is kneeling before the Executioner.
The first rays of the daylight fall broken upon
his long hair.

Near him is his daughter Florica.

She trembles like a dew-drop in the rays of the
sun, and her lovely eyes shine beneath their long
lashes, like two stars on the bosom of a cloud.
" Why dost thou weep, my daughter ?" asks
Michai, with a noble reproach.

" I die for mj

country, and for the faith of my fathers.

Is not

such a death as this honourable enough ?

Thou

shouldst rejoice at it, and deck the tresses of thy

MICHAI AND THE EXECUTIONER.

105

hair with flowers. He who dies for his country
should look upon the day of his death as a
festival."
" On thy knees !" cries the pale Executioner.
" The axe is raised above thy head, and it must
fall."
Michai gives the word.
the Executioner.

He looks steadily at

The people murmur.

the axe ? No! the blow is not yet struck.

Falls
The

headsman trembles, and kneels at the feet of
Michai, fascinated.
The people press round;
chains

they break the

of their hero, and Michai is carried

home by them in triumph.

And the young-

maidens dress their long hair with flowers, and
every child in Eoumania repeats the brave
words of Michai:
" He who dies for his country should look
upon the day of his death as a festival,"

106

SIRTE - M ARGARITE.

SIRTE-MARGARITE.*

DEEP

in a valley fragrant with flowers are two

beautiful maidens.
spinning

They are sisters, and are

a silken web

under

shadow of some lime trees.

the

shifting

The king's son

rides by with a gallant train, and the sisters
accost him.
"Prince," says the eldest, " choose me for thy
Queen, and I will bring thee a field full of fine
pearls."

But the second promises that she will

make him the father of two young princes with
long golden hair, each fair as a flower. And
the Prince replies gallantly, that if she will
* A charming child's story; but, from the repetitions in the
original, rather tedious. It is almost the only one which I have
ventured to curtail and very slightly to retouch.

107

SIRTE -MARGARITE.

promise him two sons with hair as beautiful
as her own that she shall become his Queen.
Nine moons have scarcely shone over the
valley when the Queen keeps her word, and two
young princes are born, each with long golden
hair and fair as the day.
But the eldest sister, who was very angry that
her sister should have become Queen instead of
her, resolves to be avenged, and changes the
two beautiful young princes for two ugly black
children, which she places in their cradle instead.
Then she takes the young princes, who were fair
as the day, and wickedly buries them alive in
the garden.

She then goes to the King, and

tells him that the Queen has not kept her
promise, and shows him the little negroes.
" Then," says the King, in a terrible voice,
"if

this be really true, you

shall be my

Queen, and your sister shall be shut up in a
dungeon."
Suddenly among the flowers of the garden
there spring up two enchanted Fir Trees; and

108

SIRTE - MARG-ARITE.

when the Evening dresses her dark hair with
golden flowers to enamour the world, the enchanted Fir Trees begin to ask each other if
they sleep; and both answer that they cannot
rest while their mamma is weeping in her lonely
dungeon.
The captive Queen answers them from her
prison, and says that if she could kiss them
once more she could forget even the galling
weight of her chains.
The Fir Trees tell the Poor Queen how much
they love her, and that her troubles break their
hearts; which solaces her very much.
Meantime the "Wicked Queen awakes and
listens ; and trembling for fear lest any one else
should hear tliem, she tells the King proudly,
that if he does not have those two talking Fir
Tfees cut down in the morning she will leave
him.

Accordingly the young trees are felled

and thrown into the fire ; when immediately two
bright sparks fly out, and fall far away among
the flowers.

SIRTE -MARGARITE.

109

They are the two princes, who have again
escaped, and who are determined to bring the
crimes of their wicked aunt to light, and punish
her, as all naughty people are punished, some
time or other.
Some time after the Fir Trees have been cut
down there is a great festival at Court.

The

King's palace is brilliantly illuminated, and there
is a great " claca" * assembled to string pearls
for the Queen.

Among all the fair maidens and

handsome youths who arrive, there are none
who attract so much attention as two beautiful
children with golden hair, and who appear to be
brothers.
The company being assembled, each of them
begins to string pearls from a basket, which
is placed before each of them.

While thus

* The word " claca" here signifies a species of assembly verypopular in Wallachia. If any family has some particular work
to do on any particular account, if a relative is setting out for a
long journey, or what not, they invite the neighbourhood to
come and work for them. When the work is completed, there
is high glee, singing and dancing, and story-telling. The word
claca has also another meaning.

110

SniTE-MARGAKITE.

employed every body who knows a pretty story
is asked to tell it.
When it comes to the turn of the two beautiful
children, who are of course the King's sons, they
relate the sad story of the imprisoned Queen,
their

mother.

They tell

how

two

sisters

were seated together spinning silk, when a
gallant cavalier rode by, and how both wanted
to become his Queen; but that he chose the
youngest.

As they speak they bid their pearls

continue to string themselves, that no time may
be lost; and then they go on to tell the rest of
the melancholy events that have befallen them;
and as while they speak the pearls continue to
string themselves in a miraculous manner, the
King is convinced of the truth of their story, and
acknowledges them as his sons in presence
of the whole Court.

The Queen, their mother,

is taken out of prison, and beautifully dressed
in gold and jewels, with a crown upon her head;
while her wicked sister is tied to wild horses, and
torn to pieces.

MI0EA.

Ill

MIOKA.
DOWN

into a laughing valley near the Garden

of Eden three shepherds descended with their
flocks and herds.

One was a Moldavian, another

a Vrancian, and the third a Hongoura.

And the

Hongoura and the Vrancian plotted together to
murder

their companion the Moldavian, and

inherit his flocks; for he was richer in lambs
and in goats, as well as in the faithful dogs
that guard them.

They agreed to kill him at the

soft hour of twilight.
But the little lambkin, Miora, with her silvery
fleece, who had refused all food for three days,
attracted the attention of her shepherd.
" My little Miora, lae boulacae !

Three whole

days have passed, and the sweet grass tempts

113

MIORA.

thee not, and thy pretty head is bowed down
sadly.

Art thou ill, Miora—my pretty, gentle,

little Miora?"
" Dear shepherd and master," replies the little
lambkin, " take thy flocks, and go with them
deep into yonder forest; take also thy trustiest
hounds;

for

at sunset thy comrades have

arranged to kill thee!"
" Little

lambkin

with

the

silver

fleece,"

replies the shepherd, "if thou art indeed a
prophetess, and I must die at sunset in this
smiling valley, thou shalt tell my murderers to
lay me in the ground here behind our cot; so
that I may still hear the bay of my faithful dogs,
and remain always with you.
shalt tell them from me.

This is what thou

And thou shalt place

above my tomb, and near to my head, my three
beloved flutes: my flute which is made of the
wood of the fir tree, and of which the tones are
so tender; that which is made of the wood of
the linden, which is passionate; and my flute of
ivory, which can draw tears.

MI0RA.

113

" The wind of the evening shall come and
play into my flutes; it will draw plaintive sounds
from them.

And then my little lambs will

gather round my grave, and will weep tears of
blood over it.
" But thou must not tell them that my companions have murdered me.

Thou must tell

them only that I am married; that I have
wedded a beautiful queen, the betrothed of the
world ; that upon the day of my nuptials a star
is fallen; that I had the sun and the moon to
hold my chaplets, and for wedding guests the
fir trees which grow upon the rock; for priests
the lofty mountains; for musicians myriads of
tuneful birds; the firmament for an altar; and
for torches the golden stars.
" But when you shall see my poor old mother
wandering through the fields, and asking of the
traveller—£ Who has seen my beautiful shepherd, whose figure might pass through a ring,*
* Ring; a comparison often used in Wallachia to designate a
good figure.

114

MIORA.

whose locks are gilded by the sun ?' thou shalt
have pity upon her, and thou shalt say that I
have married the daughter of a king, and am
gone into a far country."

NOTES.
THE DAUGHTER OP THE LAUREL TREE.
" The Daughter of the Laurel Tree" is an allegory on the
fate of a fallen woman. This ballad is sung, partly in prose and
partly in verse, to rock children to sleep, or beguile the long
winter evenings. From such simple listeners it is said often to
draw tears. This story, as well as that of "The Fawn," are
evidently of Dacian origin.

MARltiRA FLORlfeA.
" Mariora Floriora" or Mary the Floweret, is a popular legend
of the Carpathians. It has been retouched and slightly altered
by M. Alexander, who appears to have obtained it from oral
tradition. It seems meant to learn lovers that there are other
things to attend to in life besides wooing—an unpromising
task!
Page 4, line 9.
" Over nine lands and nine seas" &c.—This is an expression
much used in the popular poetry of the Wallachs to express the
longest time and distance possible.
Page 5, line 7.
"And

then my friends."—Little

expressions like this will

i 2

116

NOTES.

shew the reader the manner in which the Dome are told and
sung far better than any remarks of mine. I know of no
child's story in literature so charming as this one, nor of any
with a more touching moral.
Page 5, line 18.
"The odours of the cowslip" &c.—All this is still part of
the popular superstition; and the "Wallach peasantry have
great faith in charms extracted from herbs and flowers.
Page 6, line 15.
" The water that has never been troubled."—Apa ne-neeputa,
or virgin water, is the expression in Wallach. There is a
popular belief that to drink a draught of virgin water,
or even to be the first who drinks fasting at a fountain in
the morning, will cure the malignant fevers that prevail so
frequently in the principalities. This belief is by no means
confined to the lower classes.
Page 7, line 10.
" The scentless flower of the lalce" <&c.—The "Wallach superstition gives a soul to all flowers. The idea of the sinless flower
having no perfume, is pretty, though rather that of a cynic than
a poet. .
Page 7, line 16.
"A white star " on a horse's forehead is supposed to be
lucky.
Page 7, line 19.
" Calle Buna" or Calle Bona. Thus the Latin monte is
changed into rnunte, ponte into punte, fronte into frunte, &c,
showing the corruption of the original language.

NOTES,

117

Page 8, line 2.
"A sweet dream"—The popular superstition in Wallachia
places, of course, great faith in dreams. A belief in them has
always been part of the creed of a simple people.
Page 8, line 8.
" Zmiu."—The Zme'u is a changeable and malevolent spirit,
inimical to braves and heroes; perhaps, because he is usually
represented as the guardian of young maidens.
Page 9, line 1.
" A fair young girl comes dancmg" a very beautiful allegory.
The false love and the true. The picture of the girl coming
along fresh from the gardens; with song and laughter; her
head full of light thoughts, and her hands of good things ; is an
image of no common grace and beauty. I can find no reason
why she carried the branches of the cherry-tree instead of any
other. The word in Wallach is, "Visinelle," and is perhaps
only used to rhyme with " Floricelle," which concludes the
previous line. A poet has often owed a great beauty or a
passage that has been the despair of his commentators to the
mere exigences of the measure in which he wrote.
Page 10, line 22.
"Bright flowers of the heavens"—A belief in judicial astrology
has been prevalent in almost every country in the world. In
those where enlightenment has come slowly, it has lingered
longest; but there are vague and mystic thoughts in the hearts
of most of us about such things, however Reason and Herschel
may laugh at them.

118

NOTES.
Page 14, line 13.

" The birds kept within the pleasant shadows, <&c."—There is
another pretty little Wallach song on this idea; in which it is
not ungracefully turned—
" Birds ne'er sing
On the wing,
While they nutter cheerly
Droops the plume,
Then full soon
Wail they forth so drearly.
Blame not then,
Though again
I should sing thee never;
Did I grieve !
Ah, believe !
Thou should'st know it ever.
To thy heart
To impart
Gloom or grief or scorning,
Makes their night
Radiant bright,
With the hope of morning."
Page 15, line 7.
" As of a mother's voice."—-It is a common Wallach threat to
say, u I will make your mother weep."

THE FAWN.
A STAG in Rouman poetry is often put for a king, and a fawn
for a young prince. The present story calls the fawn the son

NOTES.

119

of a king. The legend is probably founded upon some dark
forgotten page of history, and means that a young prince who
had taken refuge in the court of some petty barbarian king,
was murdered for having indiscreetly seen too much, and
forgotten the prudent blindness which becomes a guest. There
is no clue however as to the names of the personages, and
conjecture would be vain. Indeed, bards and orators have
been always so gagged by circumstances, and the truths of
history have got so mixed up with fables, that it requires lynx
eyes to distinguish between them. The popular legends of a
people, however, often give us a glimpse of their history,
which it would be idle to seek in their graver annals.
Page 17, line 13.
"Divorce"—Divorces are so common in the principalities,
that there are said to be some ladies with three or four
husbands all living.

PAUNASUL CODRILOE.
THE Pan or Paunas of the rocks is a name frequently given to
the brigand heroes of Wallachia. It is also a sort of nick-name
given to any young man brave and enterprising. He is usually,
however, represented as a sad scape-grace. Another version
of the story asserts Paunas to be merely a corruption of the
name of the Greek God Pan. Just as the names of Jupiter,
Mercury and Venus, are preserved in the popular poetry, and
figure frequently as Joe, Mercur and Venerea.
Page 21, line 10.
" The combatants wrestlefiercely."—Thisspecies of combat is
still very popular in Moldo Wallachia. There are several
different manners of wrestling.
The Lupta Voinicesca, the

120

NOTES.

Lupta Macanesca, and the Lupta Ursaresca. The attitudes and
movements are the same as those of the Roman gladiators.
Besides the ordinary wrestlers, there are also some others
peculiar to Moldo Wallachia; especially the dancing wrestlers.
In the month of June, a company of some fifteen or twenty of
them usually go about to the different villagers, dancing and*
wrestling in public. Their costume is Eoman; though time
has very slightly altered it, and parts of the dress are decorated
with little bells. They are called Calousari or Colusor, and
have a man who pretends to be dumb to carry their flag. Some
antiquaries assert, that these games are a vestige of those first
instituted to commemorate the rape of the Sabines; but it
appears more probable from their name of Calousari, that they
are merely the legitimate successors of a species of Roman
mountebanks, whom I think were called Colusores !
A month later, in July, another species of dancers begin to
appear in the villages, these are called Borace'ni; they are
dressed in women's clothes, and wear preposterously long gowns.
It is possible that these sports may be also the remains of
ancient Roman games; but the antiquaries (of course) are
divided. They would not, however, be the only traditions of
the old Roman world, which seem to have been transmitted
through so many centuries; from sire to son in Moldo
"Wallachia.
Of this there is a curious example every year, in the month
of June. In some parts of the country, the peasants tie down
their dogs and excite the geese of the neighbourhood to attack
them. They accompany these proceedings by reviling the dogs
for having slept, and left to the geese the honour of having
saved the Capitol. The species of correction applied to the
dogs, is called in Wallach, " Tarbacela," and their howls are
horrible. A friend of mine saw this singular custom practised
in tbe monastery of Radouvoda, at Bucharest, in 1848.

NOTES,

121

THOMAS ALIMOSH.
" Thomas Alimmh" or the son of the old man, is a famous
personage in "Wallach tradition; but the records of Wallachia
are in such a hopeless state of confusion, that it is hard to
identify the most renowned heroes of the popular idolatry with
much certainty. The chronicles, which are singularly dry and
uninteresting, seldom mention them at all.
Page 22, line 1.
" But not too far away."—Sic in originale, a quaint expression
enough.
Page 23, line 4.
"Bojar of the Lowlands" an expression of contempt. The
Bojars of the highlands and the lowlands seem to have disliked
each other, as much as neighbouring country gentlemen usually
do. There seems also another reason for the expression, an
anonymous French writer, speaking of the ancient Dacians says,
"Qoique domines et entoure"s par les barbares, les Eomains
n'eurent aucune alliance avec eux. Un grand nombre de Colons
se refugierent dans les Karpathes, a l'abri de toute atteinte," &c.
Boyard of the lowlands, therefore, was perhaps merely another
term for barbarian.
Page 23, line 9.
" Cool himself."—The expression in Wallach is singular, " Da*
mania dupe spate," throw thine anger behind thy back."
Page 23, line 15.
" Murgo."—The name given to all the horses of the braves.
Page 23, line 22.
" Little horse."—Murgoletzmic is the word here used in the

122

NOTES.

Wallach originals. It is one of the many which have so many
diminutives, as to be quite untranslatable.
Page 25, line 5.
" Thou wilt dig me a grave"—The braves had a pious horror
of lying unburied.

STEFAN THE GREAT AND HIS MOTHER.
Ste'fan, the fourth prince of Moldavia, acquired the surname
of the Great from his many victories. The number forty is
popularly believed to have had a singular influence on his
fortunes. Thus he reigned forty years, won forty victories,
with an army of 40,000 men, and built forty churches to
commemorate them. There are the remains of a wild and
singular ballad about him :—
" Stefan, Ste'fan Voeroda,
Rides out armed from Suciava;
Conquers Poland, Tartary,
Turkey, Russia, Hungary."
The anecdote told here is strictly historical, and the battle
was fought near the monastery of Mamzo, in Moldavia.
" La Moldavie e'tait au comble de la gloire et de la grandeur,
quand pres de mourir, Etienne le Grand, effraye' de la soumission
de la Hongrie par les Turcs, convoqua en cent cinquante-quatre
a Souchava cette assemblee memorable, ou il tint a son fils
Bogdan le discours suivant.
" 0, Bogdan, mon fils, et vous tous mes amis et companions
qui avez avec moi partag6 tant de triomphes, vous me voyez
sur le point de payer le tribut a la nature; toute la gloire de
ma vie passe'e est comme un beau fant6me qui se perd dans la
nuit; il n'y a plus de retour pour un mortel, qui comme un

NOTES.

123

ver de terre, parcourt les sentiers de la vie ; la mort vient
prendre ses droits; mais ce n'est pas ce qui fait l'objet de ma
frayeur, car je sais que 1'instant de ma naissance a e*te le
premier que j'ai fait vers le tombeau. Ce qui m'alarme est la
pensee accablante que vous avez autour de vous Soliman, qui
menace ce royaume, et fera tous ses efforts pour s'en emparer.
II a deja subjugue la plus grande partie du royaume de Hongrie,
ainsi que la Crim^e, qui n'avait pas encore reconnu aucun
maltre Stranger, et se y dest attachee en y introduisant le culte
Mahometan ; la Bessarabie a 6t6 le theatre de ses succes; et les
Valaques, qui sont cbr^tiens comme nous, ont du reconnaltre sa
superiority,' en un mot la plus noble partie de l'Asie et de
l'Europe ob&t a ses lois. Non content de se voir assis sur le
tr6ne des empereurs romains, il ne met point de bornes a
ses vues de conqudte; il embrasse en idee le domaine de toute
la terre. Croyez-vous qu'apres tant de succes et des obstacles
qu'il a surmonte's, il epargne la Moldavie qui est a sa porte, et
toute environnee des provinces de son obelssance? Craignez
plut6t que des qu'il aura r^duit toute la Hongrie il ne vient
fondre sur vous avec toutes ses forces. Je ne saurais jeter les
yeux sur nos voisins sans d^plorer le malheureux dtat de leurs
affaires. II n'y a point de fond a faire sur les Polonais, ils sont
inconstant et incapable de faire tete aux Turcs; les Hongrois
se sont mis eux-memes dans les fers; 1'Allemagne a sous les bras
tant d'embarras domestiques, qu'il ne lui reste ni volonte* ni
pouvoir de prendre part a ce qui se passe en dehors. Ainsi
conside"rant la triste situation de tous les e"tats qui nous environnent, je pense que le parti le plus sage est de choisir entre
les maux qui nous menacent celui qui nous parait le plus supportable. Jamais un pilote dans son bon sens ne tehdit les
voiles contre les tempetes et les orages. Nos forces ne peuvent
nous rassurer, les secours etrangers sont eloignes et incertains;
le danger est pressant et ne peut etre ecarte\ II faut done se

124

NOTES.

determiner a adoueir la rigueur du sort plutot que de reveiller
ce lion par le bruit des armes. Notre soumission sera comme
une eau re*pandue a propos sur cette flamrae prete a eclater; je ne
vois que cette resource et ce remede pour prevenir notre ruine.
C'est pourquoi je vous exhorte dans ces derniers moments de
ma vie avec toute la tendresse d'un pere et d'un frere de tacher
de faire vos conditions avec Soliman; si vous pouvez obtenir de
lui la conservation de vos lois ecclesiastiques et civiles ce sera
toujours une paix honorable, quand meme ce serait a titre de
fief. II vous sera plus avantageuse d'e"prouver sa clemence que
son £pe"e. Mais si au contraire il veut vous pr^scrire d'autres
conditions, n'h^sitez pas a mourir Tepee a la main pour la defense
de votre religion et la liberty de votre patrie, plut6t que de
laisser Tune et l'autre en proie aux malheurs inevitables, et
d'etre de laches spectateurs de la ruine de votre patrie. Et vous
ne devez point douter que le Dieu de nos peres, qui seul produit
des merveilles, ne se laisse un jour toucher par les larmes de ses
serviteurs, et qu'apres vous avoir comble de ses graces les plus
abondantes, il ne vous console un jour en cicatrisant vos plaies
et en fixant a jamais vos futures destinies."—COLSON.
Page 27, line 18,
" Who see only in the dark," signifying, probably, a man who
can only see through the mists of passion and interest—his
hopes and fears.
CODKEANO.
Page 29, line 5.
" Sargca," long white woollen cloak.
Page 29, line 6.
" Zurcan."—Some villages in Transylvania are called by this
name.

The costume of the inhabitants is still very much like

NOTES.

125

that of the ancient Dacians, as will be seen by attentive examination of the figures on Trajan's column. The Zurcan cap is
made of undressed sheepskin, and is not unlike the highcrowned Persian cap; but more graceful and becoming. It has
also a tassel, which is usually white.
Page 29, line 15.
" Mocons " are cattle-dealers, who carry on a wandering trade
among the mountains; they are famous for the excellence of
their horses.
Page 30, line 9.
" Olto."—The ancient Aluta, a river in Wallachia. It divides
Great and Lesser Wallachia, and takes its source among the
Carpathians, entering the Danube near the town of Turno.
The valley here mentioned is famous for the fertility of its soil.
Page 30, line 11.
" Movilao " is an ancient town in Bessarabia, on the banks of
the Dniester.
Page 30, line 14.
" God is good."—A style of reasoning one hears much too
frequently. The contrast between this sentence and the succeeding one shows a strange jumble of ideas on religious
subjects, and develops a quaint trait of manners. On such a
subject I would as soon trust a song as a history.
Page 31, line 2.
'*Eyebrows"—A Wallach proverb says, " you can tell a thief
by his eyebrows." Perhaps there is no part of the body which
has not been fixed upon as an indication of character. There
seems no science so alluring to silly people as that of judging
from appearances; or there is surely none so entirely contemptible, false, and absurd.

126

NOTES.

Page 31, line 15.
" Capo " is a garden near Jassy.
Page 31, line 20.
" Potera."—A troop of mounted policemen composed chiefly
of Albanians.
Page 32, line 7.
" Plucking the balls of the flesh with his fingers? &c.—Nearly
all popular heroes are invulnerable; a gift which simple
imaginations are apt enough to bestow on successful bravery.
Page 32, line 14.
"May the earth swallow him"—This expression appears to be
a reflection of the author suddenly overpowered by his feelings.
The dislike of the Wallachs to the Albanians seems merely that
of all people to foreign mercenaries, however creditably or
usefully employed.
Page 32, line 19.
" Baltac."—The baltac was a kind of mace. It was a very
favourite arm with the Turks; though their maces were usually
lighter than those of their enemies, they were also more
manageable and dangerous. The mistake of using heavy arms
seems at last found out.
Page 33, line 6.
" Hies.'"—Alejandro Ilics (pronounced Elijesh) reigned about
1631.
Page 33, line 8.
" A Tiwk from Stamboul"—The Turks at this period had a
representative at Jassy, and another at Bucharest, who was
called K^haia Bey. These representatives had also a deputy in

NOTES.

127

every town and city, called " Beshleaga." They claimed the
right of being present at all trials, to protect the interests of
the Turks. Subsequently, however, they began to interfere
with the tribunals, and even to interrogate the Prince. Indeed
the Domns of former times were vassals far too powerful and
restless not to incur now and then the jealousy of their
suzerain, and they took an oriental method of counter-balancing
their influence.
Page 33, line 20.
"Thick-lipped"—A reflection on Turks in general, neither
complimentary nor just.
Page 34, line 9.
"Confessor?—The Domns could not by law condemn a
criminal to death unshriven.
Page 34, line 18.
'<Palosh" a sort of short sword like that worn by the
Romans.
Page 35, line 15.
"Farewell" &c.—The whole of this story appears to be a
faithful picture of the national morality and feeling of the
times. The fact is, every one who had the power to steal was
more or less a robber; and the bandit who rifled the rich with
the strong hand, and gave to the poor, who was something half
free lance, half patriot; from whom the peasants had much to
hope, and little to dread; who had often the same tastes and
habits; and who was one of themselves, save that he had raised
himself from slavery to power; such a man was not unlikely to
become the hero of minds in which there were no fixed principles of right and morality. As for the manner in which the
Mocon is here treated, it is easily accounted for by his profession. The Mo cons were probably disagreeable enough to the

128

NOTES.

country people, from their horse-dealing rogueries, so that the
signal punishment of a Mocon pleased them very well.

THE FERENTAR'S DAUGHTER.
The Ferentars were a strong body of cavalry, who served in
the Wallachian army. Their weapons were the sword and the
lance.
BOUJOR.
Page 39, line 6.
"Focchiani" is a frontier

town between

Moldavia and

WaUachia.
Page 39, line 16.
" Stefcmica" is the diminutive of Stefan.
to Wallack diminutives.

There is no end

Page 39, line 16.
" Boujor" signifies Rufus, or the red.
brigand, who lived about fifty years ago*

He was a famous

FAT LOGOFAT.
"Fat Logofat" pronounced Fet Logofet: the young hero.
It is one of the prettiest stories of the series. Some of the
epithets which pass between the lovers are charming.

SALGA.
Page 43, line 3.
"Sckobani" shepherds.
Page 43, line 6.
" Bacio" chief.

NOTES.

129

Page 43, line 13.
" Bricium d'ore" a flute made by the shepherds. It is larger
than the common flute, and its sound is very plaintive. It is
sometimes ornamented with a ring of gold and silver. These
instruments, blown in a peculiar key, are often used as signals
of distress to the villagers, if the shepherds require help or get
lost among the mountains.
Page 45, line 8.
"Lwptadrepta" unarmed wrestle.

RICH AND POOR.
Page 48, line 4.
" A ban " is about half a farthing.
Page 48, line 7.
" A zlot" is thirty times more than a ban.

MIHO THE YOUNG.
THIS story belongs to the 15th century, and the scene of the
encounter is called Codru Hertzir, and still known as a famous
haunt of brigands.
THE RING AND THE HANDKERCHIEF.
THIS ballad belongs to Transylvania, and is thought to be
very old.
GRUE GROSAVUL,
GRUE the Terrible appears to have been composed about the
15th century, while the Roumans were at war with the Tartars.

130

NOTES.
Page 59, line 1.

" Jalpen " is in Bessarabia.
,

Page 59, line 3.

" Smeoe " and " Zernoe" were gods of the Dacians.
Page 59, line 12.
" ffandjar," a short sword, of which the hilt was often splendidly mounted. It became almost an index of the wearer's
rank.
Page 60, line 5.
"Mazaques" or Marsaks, were the chiefs of a horde of
Tartars very proud of their ancient descent.
Page 60, line 20.
" BoujaJe," in Bessarabia, famous for its breed of horses.
Page 62, line 12.
"The Khan makes a sign"—Every thing is done by signs in
the East, and the traveller will still see a great dignitary clap
his hands for coffee instead of asking for it.
Page 63, line 2.
" Cures your ills."—There is something very naive and odd
in all the Wallach ways of expressing death.
Page 63, line 4.
"He converts" &c.—The reader is hardly prepared for the
edifying end of the terrible chief; but such a one may not
have been unfrequent in times when men seem to have been
always grasping a reeking sword with one hand and the cross in
the other, and to have been half saints—half ruffians.

NOTES.

131

THE SUN AND THE MOON.
THIS ballad is very old.
Page 64, line 8.
"Ilena" is one of the Wallach names for the moon.
Page 64, line 8.
u

Oozinzena " signifies the golden-haired. It is to be remarked
that golden hair seems to have especially fired the imagination
of the "Wallach poets; for the simple reason that there was
hardly a red head from Tchernetz to Beltzi, from the Aluta to
the Gige.
Page 65, line 18.
"A robe of precious stones."—The Wallachs say that jewels
are the tears of the sun.

BOGDAN.
BOGDAN was the son of Stefan the Great, and was the first
prince who acknowledged the suzerainty of the Porte by the
treaty of 1513.

THE TARTAR.
W E are indebted for this curious ballad to M. Alexandre. It
has a wild and singular rhythm in the original, and, like all
songs, flattering to the national vanity of a people. It is
very popular. Perhaps national vanity is such a pleasant sensation because we can indulge in it without appearing egotistical ! I give it here in the original, as a general example
of the untranslatable style and rhythm :—

K

2

132

NOTES.
TA'TARU'L,
Ma'i' ta'tare, ti'ne calul
Ma'i' ta'tare, Stra'nge frîul
I —

|

| __

|

Ma'i' ta'tare, lassa' malul
!Nu cerca d'a trece riul
Ca pe crucea sa'ntei' legi
De roi' doi', peste hotare
Nimic, Deu'! mi se r'allege,

,

|_|

|

Ma'i' tateore, ma'i' tatare !
I

• ! — -

I

I

Ma'i' tatare, und'e, ti' pala?
Ma'i' tatare un*de-ti' ca'lul
Ma'i' tatare und'e, ti' fala
Nu, ti' spusei' Je nu treei' malul 1
NIL sci'ai' tu, ma'i' re'ci'ne,
Ce-i' Ifoma'nul 1'n turbare 1
Corbii' muse acum di'n ti'ne
I

| —

| _

|

Ma'i' tatare, mai' ta'tare !
i

_

|

|

COJSTSTANDIN BRANCOVANO.
CONSTANDIN BRANCOVANO was a famous prince of Wallachia;
he was beheaded at Constantinople, with his three children,

NOTES.

138

for having aided the Russians in 1710. Popular love threw a
halo round his memory, and the descendants of his family are
still among the first aristocracy of the Principalities. The
subject, though not treated very poetically, is a fine one; and I
have preserved it from one or two little traits of national
manners which appeared interesting. The execution of the
children on a chair with their eyes bandaged is also curious.
The family pf Brancovano are among the princes of the Empire,
and one of the very few in Roumania who have hereditary
titles.

SERB SERAC,
" Serb Serac," or the poor Servian.
verbial for their poverty.

The Servians were pro-

Page 75, line 11.
"The Bougak" or Boujiak, is a province of Lower Bessarabia.
After the reign of Ste*fan the Great it fell into the hands of the
Tartars. It was long famous for its breed of horses, which
were considered priceless by their roving masters. Very fine
horses were also found in Dubrodja, which now forms part of
Turkey; but Canthenier, in his description of Moldavia, says,
that the best and dearest horses came from there, and that
they were famous both in Poland and Hungary, as well as in
Turkey. The Turks had a proverb, " Agem dilberi Bogdan
bargiri Meshurdir,"—a Persian youth and a Moldavian horse are
better than any other.
Page 76, line 2.
"Rafas" a sort of trellis-work, which allows the Turkish
ladies to look out of their windows without being seen*

134

NOTES.
Page 76, line 4.

"And telling him so" &c.—A simplicity and frankness which is
however a true portrait of Oriental manners even in our day.
Eastern ladies are by no means taught to conceal their sentiments, nor do they.
Page 76, line 10.
" Halca."—The race for the Halca was something similar to
the sport of tilting at a ring, the favourite exercise of the
knights of the middle ages. It was still in great vogue among
the Turks little more than a century ago.
Page 76, line 10.
(<

Haidar Pasha " is near Scutari, on the Bosphorus, where the
Turkish Pilgrims usually assembled before starting for Mecca.
Page 76, line 13.
" Swift as the storm " is a fine simile for an Eastern poet; for
in the East a storm is something swift and terrible indeed.
Page 76, line 22.
"Never seen the sun."—It is a popular superstition in the
,East, that horses are rendered better by being kept in the dark.
All the most celebrated horses mentioned in Wallach poetry,
Kal-Graur, Kal-Vintes, &c, all those belonging to the adventurers
called Fat-Fromos, and to the golden-haired Fat-Logof&ti, were
brought up in subterraneous caverns.
Page 77, line 9,
" Trifoi."—This is the shamrock, and the Wallachs have a
superstition about it similar to that so prettily versified by
Mr. Lover.

NOTES.

135

Page 79, line 9.
" Stangin."—One stangin is ten feet, therefore the horse must
have taken seventy feet in his stride, or twenty-three yards and
a third.
Page 79, line 17.
"Khan of Tartary."—The date of this ballad is uncertain,
but it must have been before the independence of the Crimea,
or its subsequent conquest by the Russians.' There is a lesson
in the history of the conquest of the Crimea, not without interest
just now !
VIDRA."
Page 82, line 1.
" Oatonitza" signifies a female soldier, or Amazon.
Page 82, line 4,
"Stoen goirm"—Soimu is here used,as a surname, but in its
ordinary sense it signifies a species of hawk found only among
the Carpathians. They were so much esteemed by falconers,
that when Bogdan submitted voluntarily to the suzerainty of
the Turks, twenty-four of these birds formed part of the annual
tribute which he agreed to pay to the Sultan.
Page 82, line 5.
" Potcop," Greek cap.
Page 86, line 8.
"He falls down dead"—Thus it is the common warning
to a liar in Wallachia to say, "Remember the fate of Stoen
Soimu." This ballad, however, seems a sly hit at the priesthood, and is managed with some address. The priest is not
defeated by the brave of braves, as is usually the case with

136

NOTES.

adventurous lovers; but he is reserved for still deeper disgrace.
He is made studiously base and vile in everything: goading
his oxen, calling on a woman for aid in danger, murdering his
wife, and lying to conceal his crime; till Divine Justice
sweeps him indignantly from the face of the earth.

THE MAID OF COSIA.
THIS story, of which no history of Wallachia makes any
mention, was discovered at Paris, in a Byzantine History, by
M. Boliak, a Wallachian gentleman, who communicated it to
M. Bolintiniano, from whom I received it.
Page 87.
" Oosia " is a convent in Wallachia, situated on the brow of a
splendid hill near the Carpathian^.
Page 87, line 6.
" Thepesch" or the Impaler.—This fearful name was given to
Had, or Rudolph, one of the bravest of the dukes of Wallachia,
in consequence of his having impaled no less than 30,000
prisoners, who fell into his hands at different times. His
memory seems to be regarded in Roumania with something of
the same affection we have for that of Cbeur de Lion.

THE DOVE AND THE COUCOU.
THESE two birds figure very frequently in Wallachian poetry.
The Coucou is supposed to be a mysterious being of much
importance. His voice is of good augury if heard on the right
side, but forebodes evil if heard on the left*

NOTES*

137

BALAURUL THE SERPENT.
THE word Balaur in Wallach signifies a being with the body
of a serpent and the voice of a man. In the popular poetry,
he is usually a phantom who fights against the braves; but is
often conquered by them. The Balaurs are also guardians of
hidden treasure and of the daughters of kings. Thence the
enmity between them and the Fat-Fromos or cavaliers.
The peasants also have a legend, that precious stones are
formed by the froth on the Balaur's mouth; and they say that
he who kills a serpent will be forgiven a sin. According to
ancient tradition, on St. Peter's day all the roads are guarded
by serpents; and it is said that every one who then kills a
serpent will be lucky throughout the year.

THE BANQUET.
THIS legend is historical. The banquet is said to have taken
place in Transylvania, and the hero obtained his wish, for some
days afterwards he was assassinated by the emissaries of one
Basta, an obscure prince of Transylvania.
Page 94, line 6.
" August hands"—The Wallach word is Dalb, and if any one
can translate it better I make him a present of it.

MICHAl SAVING THE STANDARD.
THIS ballad refers to an event which occurred at a battle on
the banks of the Moresch, in Transylvania, towards the end of
the 16th century.

138

NOTES.

MIHNEA DOMNU AND RUDOLPH CALOFIRESCO.
THIS is one of a great many ballads on the same subject.
some Michai, the brave, replaces Mihnea Domnu.

In

Page 98. .
" Calofiresco."—The Calofiresci and Caplesci were famous
Wallachian heroes.
Page 98.
" Domnu," a corruption of the Latin Dominus, is the most
ancient title of the Princes of Roumania. That of Hospodar was
given them by the Russians. They were also called " Voevodes"
or war-chiefs, from two Sclave words; " Vol," a troop, and
" Vodit" commander; and the style of the official documents
executed by Kobert the Black runs thus :—
li
We VoeVod, by the grace of God Domn of the whole Roman
world, Duke of Omlash, and Fagarash, &c." In later times the
title of Duke of Omlash and Fagarash has been dropped.

MIRCEA BEFORE NICOPOLIS.
t(

Mwcea," Prince of Wallachia, was the first prince who
acknowledged the suzerainty of the Porte, by a voluntary treaty
concluded in 1393.
Page 103, line 4.
" Proud Eagle, <&c."—I have used the word eagle here, but it
is " Schoem," or hawk, in the original.

MIHAl THE BRAVE AND HIS EXECUTIONER.
MIHAI, the brave Prince of Wallachia.

He rebelled success-

NOTES.

139

fully against the Turks, and gained several victories. His most
important battle was that of " Calagureni," where he defeated
the immense host of Sinan Pasha with a mere handful of braves.
He was in the end assassinated by Basta, a petty prince in the
neighbourhood.
It is said that he was once condemned to death by his predecessor, but at the moment when the executioner was about
to strike, he became fascinated by the calm steady gaze of
Mihai and let fall his axe. The people, whose darling he was,
and who only waited for some accidental circumstance to become
unmanageable to the authorities, now delivered him by the
strong hand, and led him home in triumph. The story has been
charmingly versified by M. Bolentiniano.

SIRTE-MARGARITE.
A CHARMING child's story. It is, however, one of the very
few I have been obliged to curtail and slightly to alter, from the
tiresome repetitions and want of connection in the original. I
have done so however with extreme hesitation, and my corrections (or blots I do not know which to call them,) only apply
to a few scattered words. Indeed, the temptation of meddling
has been very alluring throughout the " Dome " generally, but
I have conscientiously resisted it; the object to be carried out,
and which would alone make this book of any value, did not
seem to me to be to produce something pretty; but to give
that which was already made to my hand as exactly as possible,
and leave it as characteristic and national as I found it. ,There
is hardly a single legend here given, out of which a graceful
and remarkable tale might not have been easily worked. This,
however, would have been a kind of plagiarism not quite so
honest as common.

140

NOTES.
MIOEA.
Page 111, line 4.

" Vrancian.*—The word Vrancian signifies inhabitant of
Vrancia, a little province of Moldavia near the Carpathians.
The Transylvanian shepherds pass the summer among the
mountains, where they lead a wild, lonely, romantic life; and in
winter they descend into the plains on the banks of the Danube.
Two or three generally associate together.
Page 111, line 4.
" Hongowa " is an epithet of derision applied to the Wallachs
of Transylvania. It means Hungarianised. We use the word
Frenchified in much the same sense.
Page 111, line 11.
" Miora* is the pet name given to a lamb in Moldavia.
Page 111, line 14.
" Lai boulacai" is a kind of caress (altogether untranslatable)
addressed by the shepherds to the pets of their flock.
Page 113, line 9.
" The betrothed of the world" a singularly beautiful expression
for death.
*
Page 113, line 10.
"A star is fallen"—The popular superstition in Moldavia
believes that when any one dies his star falls from the heavens,
as they believe it first appeared there at his birth, and influenced
his destiny through life.

NOTES.

141

Page 113, line 12.
" Chaplets"—During the nuptial benediction at a Moldavian
marriage, a young man and a maiden hold a crown over the
heads of the bride and bridegroom. The expression used here
means that the shepherd will die just as the sun sets, and the
moon appears above the horizon. To be sure popular belief
does not trouble itself much with natural philosophy.

BRADBURY AND EVANS, PRINTERS, WHITEFRIARS.

SIX

NATIONAL AIRS OF ROUMANIA.
ARRANGED FOR THE

PIANO

BY HENEIZ.

*** These Airs have been kindly communicated to me by the
PEINCESS JEAN GHIKA, whose unaffected kindness and zeal, in
aiding me to make this little Work as perfect as possible, I can
hardly acknowledge too gratefully.
C. E. GRENVILLE MURRAY.

NATIONAL AIRS
OF

ROUMANIA.