Hero Tales and Legends of the Serbians :: Chapter XIII: Three Serbian Ballads

Chapter XIII: Three Serbian Ballads

I. The Building of Skadar (Scutari)1

The following poems are reprinted here from Sir John Bowring’s Servian Popular Poetry, London, 1827. These translations will serve to give to English readers some idea of the form of the national decasyllabic verse from which the matter of the greater part of this book is taken.

Brothers three combined to build a fortress,
Brothers three, the brothers Mrnyavtchevitch,
Kraly Vukashin2 was the eldest brother;
And the second was Uglesha-Voivode;
And the third, the youngest brother GoÏko.
Full three years they labour’d at the fortress,
Skadra’s fortress on Boyana’s river;
Full three years three hundred workmen labour’d.
Vain th’ attempt to fix the wall’s foundation.
Vainer still to elevate the fortress:
Whatsoe’er at eve had raised the workmen
Did the veela raze ere dawn of morning.
When the fourth year had begun its labours,
Lo! the veela from the forest-mountain
Call’d—“Thou King Vukashin! vain thine efforts!
Vain thine efforts—all thy treasures wasting!
Never, never, wilt thou build the fortress,
If thou find not two same-titled beings,
If thou find not Stoyan and Stoyana: 
And these two—these two young twins so loving,
They must be immured in the foundation.
Thus alone will the foundations serve thee:
Thus alone can ye erect your fortress.”
When Vukashin heard the veela’s language,
Soon he call’d to Dessimir, his servant:
“Listen, Dessimir, my trusty servant!
Thou hast been my trusty servant ever;
Thou shalt be my son from this day onward.
Fasten thou my coursers to my chariot:
Load it with six lasts of golden treasures:
Travel through the whole wide world, and bring me,
Bring me back those two same-titled beings:
Bring me back that pair of twins so loving:
Bring me hither Stoyan and Stoyana:
Steal them, if with gold thou canst not buy them.
Bring them here to Skadar on Boyana3
We’ll inter them in the wall’s foundation:
So the wall’s foundations will be strengthened:
So we shall build up our Skadra’s fortress.”

Dessimir obey’d his master’s mandate;
Fasten’d, straight, the horses to the chariot;
Fill’d it with six lasts of golden treasures;
Through the whole wide world the trusty servant
Wander’d—asking for these same-named beings—
For the twins—for Stoyan and Stoyana;
Full three years he sought them,—sought them vainly:
Nowhere could he find these same-named beings:
Nowhere found he Stoyan and Stoyana.
Then he hasten’d homeward to his master;
Gave the king his horses and his chariot; 
Gave him his six lasts of golden treasures:
“Here, my sov’reign, are thy steeds and chariot:
Here thou hast thy lasts of golden treasures:
Nowhere could I find those same-named beings:
Nowhere found I Stoyan and Stoyana.”

When Vukashin had dismiss’d his servant,
Straight he call’d his builder master Rado.
Rado call’d on his three hundred workmen;
And they built up Skadar on Boyana;
But, at even did the veela raze it:
Vainly did they raise the wall’s foundation;
Vainly seek to build up Skadra’s fortress.
And the veela, from the mountain-forest,
Cried, “Vukashin, listen! listen to me!
Thou dost spill thy wealth, and waste thy labour:
Vainly seek’st to fix the wall’s foundations;
Vainly seek’st to elevate the fortress.
Listen now to me! Ye are three brothers:
Each a faithful wife at home possesses:—
Her who comes to-morrow to Boyana,
Her who brings the rations to the workmen—
Her immure deep, down, in the wall’s foundations:—
So shall the foundations fix them firmly:
So shall thou erect Boyana’s fortress.”

When the king Vukashin heard the veela,
Both his brothers speedily he summon’d:
“Hear my words, now hear my words, my brothers!
From the forest-hill the veela told me,
That we should no longer waste our treasures
In the vain attempt to raise the fortress
On a shifting, insecure foundation. 
Said the veela of the forest-mountain,
Each of you a faithful wife possesses;
Each a faithful bride that keeps your dwellings:
Her who to the fortress comes to-morrow,
Her who brings their rations to the workmen—
Her immure within the wall’s foundations;
So will the foundations bear the fortress:
So Boyana’s fortress be erected.
Now then, brothers! in God’s holy presence
Let each swear to keep the awful secret;
Leave to chance whose fate ’twill be to-morrow
First to wend her way to Skadar’s river.”
And each brother swore, in God’s high presence.
From his wife to keep the awful secret.

When the night had on the earth descended,
Each one hastened to his own white dwelling;
Each one shared the sweet repast of evening;
Each one sought his bed of quiet slumber.

Lo! there happen’d then a wond’rous marvel!
First, Vukashin on his oath he trampled,
Whisp’ring to his wife the awful secret:
“Shelter thee! my faithful wife! be shelter’d!
Go not thou to-morrow to Boyana!
Bring not to the workmen food to-morrow!
Else, my fair! thy early life ’twill cost thee:
And beneath the walls they will immure thee!”

On his oath, too, did Uglesha trample!
And he gave his wife this early warning:
“Be not thou betray’d, sweet love! to danger!
Go not thou to-morrow to Boyana! 
Carry not their rations to the workmen!
Else in earliest youth thy friend might lose thee!
Thou might be immured in the foundation!”

Faithful to his oath, young GoÏko whisper’d

Not a breath to warn his lovely consort.

When the morning dawn’d upon the morrow,
All the brothers roused them at the day-break,
And each sped, as wont, to the Boyana.
Now, behold! two young and noble women;
They—half-sisters—they, the eldest sisters—
One is bringing up her snow-bleach’d linen,
Yet once more in summer sun to bleach it.
See! she comes on to the bleaching meadows;
There she stops—she comes not one step further.
Lo! the second, with a red-clay pitcher;
Lo! she comes—she fills it at the streamlet;
There she talks with other women—lingers—
Yes! she lingers—comes not one step farther.

GoÏko’s youthful wife at home is tarrying,
For she has an infant in the cradle
Not a full moon old; the little nursling:
But the moment of repast approaches;
And her aged mother then bestirs her;
Fain would call the serving-maid, and bid her
Take the noon-tide meal to the Boyana.
“Nay, not so!” said the young wife of GoÏko;
“Stay, sit down in peace, I pray thee, mother!
Rock the little infant in his cradle:
I myself will bear the food to Skadra.
In the sight of God it were a scandal, 
An affront and shame among all people,
If, of three, no one were found to bear it.”

So she staid at home, the aged mother,
And she rock’d the nursling in the cradle.
Then arose the youthful wife of GoÏko;
Gave them the repast, and bade them forward.
Call’d around her all the serving maidens;
When they reach’d Boyana’s flowing river,
They were seen by Mrnyavtchevitch GoÏko,
On his youthful wife, heart-rent, he threw him;
Flung his strong right arm around her body;
Kiss’d a thousand times her snowy forehead:
Burning tears stream’d swiftly from his eyelids,
And he spoke in melancholy language:

“O my wife, my own! my full heart’s-sorrow!
Didst thou never dream that thou must perish?
Why hast thou our little one abandoned?
Who will bathe our little one, thou absent?
Who will bare the breast to feed the nursling?”
More, and more, and more, he fain would utter;
But the king allow’d it not. Vukashin,
By her white hand seizes her, and summons
Master Rado,—he the master-builder;
And he summons his three hundred workmen.

But the young espoused one smiles, and dreams it
All a laughing jest,—no fear o’ercame her.
Gathering round her, the three hundred workmen
Pile the stones and pile the beams about her.
They have now immured her to the girdle. 
Higher rose the walls and beams, and higher;
Then the wretch first saw the fate prepared her,
And she shriek’d aloud in her despair;
In her woe implored her husband’s brothers:
“Can ye think of God?—have ye no pity?
Can ye thus immure me, young and healthful?”
But in vain, in vain were her entreaties;
And her brothers left her thus imploring.

Shame and fear succeeded then to censure,
And she piteously invoked her husband:
“Can it, can it be, my lord and husband,
That so young, thou, reckless, would’st immure me?
Let us go and seek my aged mother:
Let us go—my mother she is wealthy:
She will buy a slave,—a man or woman,
To be buried in the wall’s foundations.”

When the mother-wife—the wife and mother,
Found her earnest plaints and prayers neglected,
She address’d herself to Neimar Rado:4
“In God’s name, my brother, Neimar Rado,
Leave a window for this snowy bosom,
Let this snowy bosom heave it freely;
When my voiceless Yovo shall come near me,
When he comes, O let him drain my bosom!”
Rado bade the workmen all obey her,
Leave a window for that snowy bosom,
Let that snowy bosom heave it freely
When her voiceless Yovo shall come near her,
When he comes, he’ll drink from out her bosom.

Once again she cried to Neimar Rado,
“Neimar Rado! In God’s name, my brother!
Leave for these mine eyes a little window,
That these eyes may see our own white dwelling,
When my Yovo shall be brought toward me,
When my Yovo shall be carried homeward.”
Rado bade the workmen all obey her,
Leave for those bright eyes a little window,
That her eyes may see her own white dwelling,
When they bring her infant Yovo to her,
When they take the infant Yovo homeward.

So they built the heavy wall about her,
And then brought the infant in his cradle,
Which a long, long while his mother suckled.
Then her voice grew feeble—then was silent:
Still the stream flow’d forth and nursed the infant:
Full a year he hung upon her bosom;
Still the stream flow’d forth—and still it floweth.5
Women, when the life-stream dries within them,
Thither come—the place retains its virtue—
Thither come, to still their crying infants!

The veela razing the walls of Skadar

II. The Stepsisters

Near each other grew two verdant larches,
And, between, a high and slender fir-tree:
Not two larches were they—not two larches,
Not a high and slender fir between them—
They were brothers, children of one mother.
One was Paul; the other brother, Radool,
And, between them, Yelitza, their sister.
Cordial was the love her brothers bore her;
Many a token of affection gave her,
Many a splendid gift and many a trifle,
And at last a knife, in silver hafted,
And adorn’d with gold, they gave their sister.

When the youthful wife of Paul had heard it,
Jealousy swell’d up within her bosom:
And she call’d, enraged, to Radool’s lady:
“Sister mine! thou in the Lord my sister,
Dost thou know some plant of demon-virtue,
Which may bring our sister to perdition?”
Radool’s wife her sister swiftly answered:
“In the name of God, what mean’st thou, sister?
Of such cursed weeds I know not.—Did I,
Never would I tell thee of them, never;
For my brothers love me; yes! they love me—
To their love full many a gift bears witness.”

When Paul’s youthful wife had heard her sister,
To the steed she hastened in the meadow,
Gave the steed a mortal wound, and hurried
To her husband, whom she thus accosted:—
“Evil is the love thou bear’st thy sister, 
And thy gifts are worse than wasted to her;
She has stabb’d thy courser in the meadow.”
Paul inquired of Yelitza, his sister,
“Why this deed, as God shall recompense thee?”
High and loudly, then the maid protested:
“By my life, it was not I, my brother;
By my life and by thy life, I swear it!”
And the brother doubted not his sister.
Which when Paul’s young wife perceived, at even
To the garden secretly she hasten’d,
Wrung the neck of Paul’s grey noble falcon,—
To her husband sped she then and told him:
“Evil is the love thou bear’st thy sister,
And thy gifts to her are worse than wasted;
Lo! she has destroy’d thy favourite falcon.”

Paul inquired of Yelitza, his sister,

“Tell me why, and so may God reward thee!”

But his sister swore both high and loudly:
“’Twas not I, upon my life, my brother;
On my life and thine, I did not do it!”
And the brother still believed his sister.
When the youthful bride of Paul discover’d
This, she slunk at evening,—evening’s meal-time,
Stole the golden knife, and with it murder’d,
Murder’d her poor infant in the cradle!
And when morning’s dawning brought the morning,
She aroused her husband by her screaming
Shrieking woe; she tore her cheeks, exclaiming:
“Evil is the love thou bear’st thy sister,
And thy gifts to her are worst than wasted;
She has stabb’d our infant in the cradle! 
Will thine incredulity now doubt me?
Lo! the knife is in thy sister’s girdle.”

Up sprang Paul, like one possess’d by madness:
To the upper floor he hastened wildly;
There his sister on her mats was sleeping,
And the golden knife beneath her pillow
Swift he seized the golden knife,—and drew it—
Drew it, panting, from its silver scabbard;—
It was damp with blood—’twas red and gory!
When the noble Paul saw this, he seized her,—
Seized her by her own bright hand and cursed her:
“Let the curse of God be on thee, sister!
Thou didst murder, too, my favourite courser;
Thou didst murder, too, my noble falcon;
But thou should’st have spared the helpless baby.”

Higher yet his sister swore, and louder—
“’Twas not I, upon my life, my brother;
On my life and on thy life, I swear it!
But if thou wilt disregard my swearing,
Take me to the open fields—the desert;
Bind thy sister to the tails of horses;
Let four horses tear my limbs asunder.”
But the brother trusted not his sister:
Furiously he seized her white hand—bore her
To the distant fields—the open desert:
To the tails of four fierce steeds he bound her,
And he drove them forth across the desert;—
But, where’er a drop of blood fell from her,
There a flower sprang up,—a fragrant flow’ret;
Where her body fell when dead and mangled,
There a church arose from out the desert.

Little time was spent, ere fatal sickness
Fell upon Paul’s youthful wife;—the sickness
Nine long years lay on her,—heavy sickness!
’Midst her bones the matted dog-grass sprouted,
And amidst it nestled angry serpents,
Which, though hidden, drank her eyelight’s brightness.
Then she mourn’d her misery—mourn’d despairing;
Thus she spoke unto her lord and husband:
“O convey me, Paul, my lord and husband!
To thy sister’s church convey me swiftly;
For that church, perchance, may heal and save me.”

So, when Paul had heard his wife’s petition,
To his sister’s church he swiftly bore her.
Hardly had they reach’d the church’s portal,
When a most mysterious voice address’d them:
“Come not here, young woman! come not hither!
For this church can neither heal nor save thee.”
Bitter was her anguish when she heard it;
And her lord the woman thus entreated:
“In the name of God! my lord! my husband!
Never, never bear me to our dwelling.
Bind me to the wild steeds’ tails, and drive them;
Drive them in the immeasurable desert;
Let them tear my wretched limbs asunder.”

Paul then listened to his wife’s entreaties:
To the tails of four wild steeds he bound her;
Drove them forth across the mighty desert.
Wheresoe’er a drop of blood fell from her,
There sprang up the rankest thorns and nettles.
Where her body fell, when dead, the waters
Rush’d and formed a lake both still and stagnant. 
O’er the lake there swam a small black courser:
By his side a golden cradle floated:
On the cradle sat a young grey falcon:
In the cradle, slumbering, lay an infant:
On its throat the white hand of its mother:
And that hand a golden knife was holding.

She wrung the neck of Paul’s grey falcon

III. The Abduction of the Beautiful Iconia

Golden wine drinks Theodore of Stalatch6
In his Castle Stalatch, on Morava;
Pours him out the wine his aged mother.
While the wine-fumes to his head were rising,
Thus his mother spoke unto the hero:

“Son of mine! thou Theodore of Stalatch!
Tell me, wherefore hast thou not espoused thee?
Thou art in thy youthful days of beauty:
In thy dwelling now thine aged mother
Fain would see thy children play around her.”
And he answer’d—Theodore of Stalatch—
“God is witness, O my aged mother!
I have roamed through many a land and city,
But I never found the sought-for maiden;
Or, when found the maiden, found I never
Friendly feelings in thy mind towards her;
And where thou hast shown thy friendly feeling,
There I found the maiden false and faithless.
But, as yesterday, at hour of sunset,
I was wandering near Ressava’s river, 
Lo! I glanced on thirty lovely maidens
On its banks their yarn and linen bleaching:
’Midst them was the beauteous Iconia,
Fairest daughter of the Prince Miloutin,
He the princely sovereign of Resseva.
She, indeed, would be a bride to cherish;
She, indeed, were worthy of thy friendship:
But that maiden is betrothed already;
She is promised unto George Irene—
To Irene, for Sredoi, his kinsman.
But I’ll win that maiden—I will win her,
Or will perish in the deed, my mother!”
But his mother counsell’d him and warn’d him—
“Say not so, my son! the maid is promised;
’Tis no jest! she is of monarchs’ kindred.”

But the hero cared not for his mother:
Loud he called to Dobrivoy, his servant—
“Dobrivoy! come hither, trusty servant!
Bring my brown steed forth, and make him ready—
Make him ready with the silver saddle;
Rein him with the gold-embroider’d bridle.”
When the steed was ready, forth he hasten’d,
Flung him on his back, and spurr’d him onward
To the gentle river of Morava,
Flowing through Ressava’s quiet levels.

And he reach’d Ressava’s gentle river:
There again he saw the thirty maidens—
There he saw the beauteous Iconia.
Then the hero feign’d a sudden sickness;
Ask’d for help; and sped her courteous greeting—
“God above be with thee, lovely maiden!” 
And the loveliest to his words made answer,
“And with thee be bliss, thou stranger-warrior!”

“Lovely maiden! for the love of heaven,
Wilt thou give me one cup of cooling water?
For a fiery fever glows within me;
From my steed I dare not rise, fair maiden!
For my steed, he hath a trick of evil—
Twice he will not let his rider mount him.”

Warm and earnest was the maiden’s pity,
And, with gentle voice, she thus addressed him:
“Nay! not so—not so, thou unknown warrior!
Harsh and heavy is Ressava’s water;
Harsh and heavy e’en for healthful warriors;
How much worse for fever-sickening tired ones!
Wait, and I a cup of wine will bring thee.”

Swiftly tripp’d the maiden to her dwelling;
With a golden cup of wine return’d she,
Which she reach’d to Theodore of Stalatch.
Out he stretch’d his hand; but not the wine cup,
But the maiden’s hand, he seized, and flung her,
Flung her on his chestnut steed behind him:
Thrice he girt her with his leathern girdle,
And the fourth time with his sword-belt bound her;
And he bore her to his own white dwelling.

1 Skadar or Skadra, derived from the Italian appellation Scodra, otherwise Scutari, the present capital of Albania. Scutari has belonged from time immemorial to the Serbians.

2 Kraly means King.

3 Boyana is the name of the river washing the wall of Skadar.

4 Neimar means ‘architect.’

5 Sir John Bowring, writing in 1827, states that a small stream of liquid carbonate of lime is shown on the walls of Scutari as evidence of the truth of this story. Vouk St. Karadjitch, says that the Serbian people even to-day believe that no great building can be successfully erected without the immuring of some human being. Therefore they avoid the neighbourhood of such buildings while they are being erected, for it is said that even the spirit of such an unfortunate being can be immured, whereby a speedy death would ensue. Srpske Narodne Pyesme, Vienna, 1875, vol. ii. p. 124, footnote 20.

6 A ruined fortress on the banks of the River Morava. The same name is borne by a city in Central Serbia, situated not far from the castle of Theodore.

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