My sun and joy since then are on the wane. My foe cries out, “I, only I, shall reign! O’er all the universe none rules but me!”— Then rose a Siren’s voice alluringly.... Nirvana and the flesh held me that hour: God was asleep—my soul was in their power. Then on the moon I saw a spot appear;— It grew, and grew ... my heart turned sick with fear. I was as dead. The carrion-eating bird Had left that heavenly corpse—the moon—allured To earth by me. It sought my bosom where The image of Christ crucified lay bare. Beneath those evil wings I hopelessly Roam over the earth;—my guardian angel he; No more the cross I wear, nor in my breast Dwells holy faith; ’tis death: death without rest. Like to the moon, whether I wax or wane Still am I lifeless, cursed with this bane. I give the vulture of my flesh to tear, And shiver when the name of “love” I hear. While yet I live he is devouring me: I cannot bear this pain—Oh, set me free! I am not dead—Love still dwells with me here. I am alive—and some call me the “Ner.” [13] Ah, gruesome bird, art thou not yet content These ten long years my body to have rent? Ah, vulture black—black earth and ebon sky, ’Tis time that I should lay me down and die. DANCE SONG [14] FOLK SONG “I have loved your winsome face, And your never-fading grace. If they give you not to me May God send them black disgrace!” “Mountain sorrel, fresh with dew, Sweets I send and honey new; Is a dainty maid like me Fit to wed a youth like you?” “You are arch, my little maid, In four plaits your hair you braid, Make no more pretence to me— For you love me, I’m afraid!” “Drive your plough ahead, and go; Underneath it thistles grow. You are reckless, young, and wild— She is mad would wed you so!” “Near your house a field I’ll sow And I’ll stone the ill-starred crow. When I have the girl I love I’ll let all my folly go.” “On its way the water flows, Washing with its waves the rose. My beloved amidst the youths, Like a mighty fortress shows.” “In the vineyard you have grown, Where the melon plants are sown, Day and night upon my lute, You I sing, and you alone.” “Sing a minstrel’s song to me, Or the blackbird’s rhapsody; All your praises I deserve, And my bridegroom you shall be!” BALLAD By RAFFI Dark forests clothe the mountain-side, And o’er that mountain’s lofty head The heavens bend their arches wide, And, dome-like, round its summit spread. A castle stood upon the steep, Enchanted by a witch’s spell; A maiden wept within the keep, Bound by the chains of slav’ry fell. Alone and sad, the maiden fair Sat in her dark and narrow room. No hope had she, but dire despair Had worn her heart with thoughts of gloom.