Jelitza and Her Brothers

Nine fair sons possess’d a happy mother; And the tenth, the loveliest and the latest, Was Jelitza,—a beloved daughter. They had grown together up to manhood, Till the sons were ripe for bridal altars, And the maid was ready for betrothing. Many a lover ask’d the maid in marriage; First a Ban; a chieftain was the other; And the third, a neighbour from her village. So her mother for the neighbour pleaded; For the far-off-dwelling ban her brothers. Thus they urged it to their lovely sister: “Go, we pray thee, our beloved sister, With the ban across the distant waters: Go! thy brothers oft will hasten to thee; Every month of every year will seek thee; Every week of every month will seek thee.” So the maiden listened to her brothers, With the ban she cross’d the distant waters: But, behold! O melancholy marvel! God sent down the plague, and all the brothers, All the nine, were swept away, and lonely Stood their miserable sonless mother.

Three long years had pass’d away unheeded; Often had Jelitza sighed in silence: “Heaven of mercy! ’tis indeed a marvel! Have I sinn’d against them?—that my brothers, Spite of all their vows, come never near me.” Then did her stepsisters scorn and jeer her: “Cast away! thy brothers must despise thee! Never have they come to greet their sister.”

Bitter was the sorrow of Jelitza, Bitter from the morning to the evening, Till the God of heaven took pity on her, And he summon’d two celestial angels: “Hasten down to earth,” he said, “my angels! To the white grave, where Jovān is sleeping,— Young Jovan, the maiden’s youngest brother. Breathe your spirit into him; and fashion From the white grave-stone a steed to bear him: From the mouldering earth his food prepare him: Let him take his grave-shroud for a present! Then equip and send him to his sister.”

Swiftly hasten’d God’s celestial angels To the white grave where Jovan was sleeping. From the white grave-stone a steed they fashion’d; Into his dead corpse they breathed their spirit; From the ready earth the bread they moulded; For a present his grave-shroud they folded; And equipp’d, and bade him seek his sister.

Swiftly rode Jovan to greet his sister. Long before he had approach’d her dwelling, Far, far off his sister saw and hail’d him; Hastened to him—threw her on his bosom, Loosed his vest, and stamp’d his cheeks with kisses. Then she sobb’d with bitterness and anguish, Then she wept, and thus address’d her brother: “O! Jovan! to me—to me, a maiden, Thou, and all my brothers, all, ye promised Oft and oft to seek your distant sister: Every month in every year to seek her,— Every week in every month to seek her. Three long years have sped away unheeded, And ye have not sought me.”—For a moment She was silent; and then said, “My brother! Thou art deadly pale! why look so deadly Pale, as if in death thou hadst been sleeping?” But Jovan thus check’d his sister: “Silence, Silence, sister! as in God thou trustest; For a heavy sorrow has o’erta’en me. When eight brothers had prepared their nuptials, Eight stepsisters ready to espouse them, Hardly was the marriage service ended Ere we built us eight white dwellings, sister! Therefore do I look so dark, Jelitza.”

Three white days had pass’d away unheeded, And the maid equipped her for a journey. Many a costly present she provided For her brothers and her bridal sisters: For her brothers, fairest silken vestments; For her bridal-sisters, rings and jewels. But Jovan would fain detain her—“Go not, Go not now, I pray thee—my Jelitza! Wait until thy brothers come and greet thee.” But she would not listen to her brother: She prepared the costliest, fairest presents. So the young Jovan began his journey, And his sister travell’d patient by him.

So as they approach’d their mother’s dwelling, Near the house a tall white church was standing, Young Jovan he whisper’d to his sister— “Stop, I pray thee, my beloved sister! Let me enter the white church an instant. When my middle brother here was married, Lo! I lost a golden ring, my sister! Let me go an instant—I shall find it.”

Jovan went—into his grave he glided— And Jelitza stood—she stood impatient— Wondering—wondering—but in vain she waited. Then she left the spot to seek her brother. Many and many a grave was in the church-yard Newly made—Jovan was nowhere—Sighing, On she hasten’d—hastened to the city, Saw her mother’s dwelling, and press’d forward Eager to that old white dwelling.

Listen To that cuckoo’s cry within the dwelling! Lo! it was not the gray cuckoo’s crying— ’Twas her aged, her gray-headed mother. To the door Jelitza press’d—outstretching Her white neck, she call’d—“Make ope, my mother! Hasten to make ope the door, my mother!” But her mother to her cries made answer: “Plague of God! avaunt! my sons have perish’d— All—all nine have perish’d—Wilt thou also Take their aged mother!” Then Jelitza Shriek’d, “O open—open, dearest mother! I am not God’s plague—I am thy daughter, Thine own daughter—thy Jelitza, mother!” Then the mother push’d the door wide open, And she scream’d aloud, and groan’d, and flung her Old arms round her daughter—All was silent— Stiff and dead they fell to earth together.