Mother’s Love

On the balcony young Jovan sported, While he sported, lo! it crash’d beneath him, And he fell,—his right arm broke in falling! Who shall find a surgeon for the sufferer? Lo! the Vila of the mountain sends one, But the recompense he asks is heavy; Her white hand demands he of the mother,— Of the sister all her silken ringlets,— Of the wife he asks her pearl-strung necklace.

Freely gave her hand young Jovan’s mother, Freely gave her silken hair his sister, But his wife refus’d her pearly treasure:— “Nay! I will not give my pearl-strung necklace, For it was a present of my father.” Anger then incens’d the Mountain-Vila, Into Jovan’s wounds she pour’d her poison, And he died,—Alas! for thee, poor mother!

Then began the melancholy cuckoos,— Cuckoos then began their funeral dirges; One pour’d out her mournful plaints unceasing, One at morning mourn’d, and mourn’d at ev’ning, And the third whene’er sad thoughts came o’er her. Tell me which is the unceasing mourner? ’Tis the sorrowing mother of young Jovan. Which at morning mourns and late at evening? ’Tis the grieving sister of young Jovan. Which when melancholy thoughts come o’er her? ’Tis the youthful wife,—the wife of Jovan.