Cordial was the greeting, great the gladness; Hospitality made cheerful welcome: And, while seated at the feast together, Nenad whisper’d to his aged mother: “Mother mine! thou venerable woman! If it be no shame before the people, If it be no sin in God’s high presence, I will ask one question, O my mother! Tell me why thou gav’st me not a brother? Tell me why I had no little sister? When we each received our treasure-portion, Each in earnest and in eager language By his brother swore, or by his sister; I could only swear by my good weapon, By myself, and by the steed I mounted.” Then his mother laugh’d, and laughing answer’d, “Thou, my son, dost talk a little wildly; For, indeed, a brother have I given thee; Long before thy birth Predrag had being: Only yesterday the sad news reach’d me, That he is become a highway robber, In the verdant forest Garevitza, Where he is the leader of the bandits.” Then Nenad his mother answer’d quickly, “Mother dear! O thou most honour’d woman! Now thou must another dress prepare me, Skirted-short, and forest-green the colour, That the forest trees I may resemble. I will go, and I will see my brother, So my inner longings may be silenced.” Then his aged mother made him answer: “Play not, son Nenad, with words so idle; So thou wilt be sacrificed.”—But, reckless, Little cared Nenad for mother-counsels; But he did whate’er his spirit prompted. He was clad in new short-skirted vestment Of green cloth, the green that dyes the forests; So a forest tree Nenad resembled. Then he sprung upon his faithful courser; On they sped, to seek his distant brother, And to still his spirit’s inward longings. And he spoke not—no! his lips were silent; Spoke not to his steed, nor to his falcon. When he reach’d the forest Garevitza, Loud he cried, as cries the grizzled falcon, “Garevitza! verdant mountain forest! Dost thou then possess a youthful hero? Dost thou hide Predrag, my only brother? Are there other heroes in thy thickets? Are there fellow-comrades of my brother?” Near at hand, beneath a shading fir-tree, Sat Predrag, the golden wine enjoying. When he heard that voice within the forest, Thus he call’d upon his bandit-comrades: “Now, ye comrades mine! beloved brothers! Hide ye in your ambuscades, and listen To that voice,—the voice of unknown warrior; Smite him not; but take his treasures from him, And then bring him to your chief in safety. Woe to him who does not thus obey me!”