BETWEEN two mountains sank the sun— Between two maids the enamour’d one. He gave his kiss to one alone; The other maid grew jealous then: “Most faithless thou of faithless men!” She said—and he replied—“Fair maid! I fain would kiss thy cheeks of red, But thou hast got a bickering brother, Who loves to quarrel with another, And I no quarrel seek, my love!” She hied her to the darksome grove— Silent—she turn’d o’er many a rock, And look’d ’neath many a broken stock; Probed weeds and briars, till she found A poisonous serpent on the ground. She smote it with her golden ring, Tore from its mouth the venomy fang; Its poisonous juice her hands did wring Into a wine cup—and she sprang On swiftest feet to Raduli— Her own—her only brother he— Her hands the fatal cup supplied— He drank the poison—and he died. Then sped she to the youth—“A kiss— At least one kiss of love for this— For this—for thee—I dress’d the cup With poison—and he drank it up— The brother that thou lov’st not—he I poison’d—for a kiss from thee”— “Away! away! thou murd’rous maid! Avaunt! avaunt!”—the lover said: “What fame—what courage could confide In thee—a heartless fratricide!” LOVE. THE youth he struck on the tambourine, And nought was so bright as its golden sheen; Of the hair of maidens twined together Its strings, which he struck with a falcon’s feather. The maid look’d down from the balcony, And thus to her inner self said she:— “O heaven! what a noble youth is he! Would’st thou but give this youth to me, I would make of the garden-pinks his bed, I would lay fair roses under his head; And waked by perfume, with what delight Would he kiss the maiden’s forehead white!” MAPLE TREE. O THOU brotherly maple tree! Wilt thou be a friend to me? Be a brother, and be a friend! To the green grass thy branches bend, That I may climb to their highest tip! Look o’er the sea, and see the ship, Where my lover sits smiling now; He binds the turban round his brow, And over his shoulders the shawl he flings, Which is full of mine own embroiderings. For three long years my hands inwove Those golden flowers to deck my love: The richest silk of the brightest dyes I work’d for him, and now my eyes Would fain my absent lover see: Assist me, brotherly maple tree! And tell me, if he thinks of me! SEMENDRIAN BEAUTY. LOVELY maiden of Semendria! {152} Turn again thy footsteps hither; Let me see thy countenance!