And from her gloomy throne, Behind the clouds, alone, The moon beheld it with her sleepless eye. And told the Poet how she did espy That in the darkness of the silent night Earth heaved her bosom up to Heaven above; And that the sky smiled on her with delight, As they exchanged the secret kiss of love; And for each other sweetest songs they sing And they embrace each other and caress, Like living souls, each other gladdening. Then on the Poet fell a deep distress, A jealous sorrow—for he fain would, too, Possess a love as noble and as true. O’ER THE MOUNTAINS HIGH HE WENT FOLK SONG O’er the mountains high he went, Love, love! In the meadows above I seek for my love. With a weary sigh he went. Love, love! To fight thou art gone While I stay here alone. Neither quail nor partridge stirred. Love, love! In the meadows above I look for my love And he left without a word. Love, love! To fight thou art gone While I stay here alone. Like a flower’s fragrance sweet He came past, and vanished fleet. I beheld him and I loved— But we never more shall meet. When my lover rode away Not a farewell did I say; None there is to help him now— Sourb Carapet, [11] bless his way! COMPLAINTS By BEDROS TOURIAN Farewell, thou Sun, and Thou, O Power Divine, That far above my spirit dimly shine. I go to add another star to heaven:— For what are stars, but anguished curses, riven From innocent and hapless souls, that fly To burn the brow of Heaven? and they supply Fresh armaments, and jewels fiery red, To God, the source of lightning flashes dread! Alas, what do I say? Send forth thy fires, O God! Consume this brain that thus aspires To soar, and dares to pierce the depths of heaven; And e’en to climb unto the stars has striven! Creator of our trembling beings, hail! Of light and youth, of age when forces fail; Thou that the roses from my brow hast wrenched, Hast stilled my trembling lips, my longings quenched; Mist to mine eyes hast given, sobs to my breath:— Yet thou hast sworn to smile on me in death! Ah, surely thou hast kept for me a life Of fragrance, light, and prayer beyond this strife! But if my latest breath must perish here All silently, in this dark atmosphere— From now a flash of lightning I would be, Coiled round thy name, and, murmuring ceaselessly, A curse I would become to pierce Thy side— God, the Arch Enemy, I would deride! Ah me, I tremble, and am pale as death. My brain seethes like a hell; a sobbing breath I am amongst the mournful cypress trees, An autumn leaf soon wafted by the breeze!