The Pobratim: A Slav Novel. Jones P.
Marko, brother mine, do come at once.
I beg you for the love that you devote
To God and to St. John, come for the nonce
To free me from the Moor of Primoryé.
Seven sacks of gold I'll give you for this deed,
And, if I can this debt of mine repay,
A shirt all wrought in gold will be your meed.
Moreover, you shall have my father's sword;
And as a pledge thereon the King's great seal,
Which doth convey to all that Russia's lord
Doth order and decree that none shall deal
Its bearer harm; no man shall ever slay
You in his wide domains. Come, then, with speed
To free me from the lord of Primoryé."
To Prilipù the herald did proceed
With all due haste; he rode by day and night,
Through streams and meads, through many a bushy dell;
At last at Marko's door he did alight.
When Marko read the note, he answered: "Well – "
Then mused a while, then bade the young page go.
But said the youth: "What answer shall I give?"
"Just say I answered neither yes nor no."
The Princess saw that she would ne'er outlive
Her dreadful doom, and walking on the strand,
There, 'midst her sobs, she said: "O thou deep sea,
Receive me in thy womb, lest the curst brand
Of being this man's wife be stamped on me."
Just when about to plunge she lifts her eyes,
And lo! far off, a knight upon a steed,
Armed cap-à-pie, advancing on, she spies.
"Why weepest thou, O maid? tell me thy need,
And if my sword can be of any use."
"Thanks, gentle sir. Alas! one knight alone
Can wield his brand for me; but he eschews
To fight."
"A coward, then, is he."
"'Tis known
That he is brave."
"His name?"
"He did enrich
The soil with Turkish blood at Cossovo.
You sure have heard of Marko Kraglievic."
Thereon he kissed her hand and answered low:
"Well, I am he; and I come for your sake.
Go, tell the Czar to give thee as a bride
Unto the Moor; then merry shall we make
In some mehan, and there I shall abide
The coming of the lord of Primoryé."
The Princess straightway told the Czar, and he
At once gave orders that they should obey
All that the Serb might bid, whate'er it be.
That night with all his men the Arab came —
Five hundred liegemen, all on prancing steeds;
The Czar did welcome them as it became
Men high in rank, and of exalted deeds.
Then, after that, they all went to the inn.
"Ah!" said the Moor, as they were on their way,
"How all are scared, and shut themselves within
Their homes; all fear the men of Primoryé."
But, as they reached the door of the mehan,
The Arab, on his horse, would cross the gate,
When, on the very sill, he saw a man
Upon a steed. This sight seemed to amate
The Arab lord. But still he said: "Stand off!
And let me pass."
"For you, this is no place,
Miscreant heathen dog!"
At such a scoff
Each angry liegeman lifted up his mace.
Thereon 'twixt them and him ensued a fight,
Where Marko dealt such blows that all around
The din was heard, like thunder in the night.
He hacked and hewed them down, until a mound
Of corpses lay amid a pool of blood,
For trickling from each fearful gash it streamed,
And wet the grass, and turned the earth in mud
Of gore; whilst all this time each falchion gleamed,
For Marko's sword was ruthless in the fray,
And when it fell, there all was cleaved in twain;
No coat of mail such strokes as his could stay,
Nor either did he stop to ascertain
If all the blood that trickled down each limb
Was but that of the foe and not his own.
And thus he fought, until the day grew dim,
And thus he fought, and thus he stood alone
Against them all; till one by one they fell,
As doth the corn before the reaper's scythe,
Whilst their own curses were their only knell!
The Serb, howe'er, was still both strong and lithe,
When all the swarthy Arabs round him lay.
"Now 'tis thy time to die, miscreant knight!"
He called unto the Moor of Primoryé.
With golden daggers they began to fight;
They thrust and parried both with might and main;
But soon the Arab sank to writhe in pain.
Then Marko forthwith over him did bend
To stab him through the heart. Then off he took
His head, on which he threw a light cymar
(For 'twas, indeed, a sight that few could brook):
Thus covered up, he took it to the Czar.
Then Marko got the Princess for his wife —
Besides the gold that was to be his meed,
And from that day most happy was his life,
Known