For Kuris will be there." "If he be there, you need not fear, The young men will thee guard." The judge's daughter, with glances clear, Sits in the young men's ward. Kuris Pista, indeed, was there, And to the girl drew nigh, His words he spoke with gracious air, "The gay dance let us try." "Oh, let me go, or I shall fall, And in this place will die." But Kuris heeded not her call, And fire lit in his eye. "Play, gypsy, play more loud and fast, Play till your tight strings break. Though feet may fail, the dance shall last For the mad music's sake." "Oh, let me go! Oh, let me go! My treasure, let me loose, The red blood from my heart does flow, And fills my soaking shoes." "I will not loose you till you die, My treasure and my dove. Not once but twelve times o'er have I Been spurned in asking love." "Oh, mother, open wide the gate, Of your leaved garden thick, The young men with a litter wait, Bearing thy daughter sick. "Oh, mother, open wide the gate, Of your rose garden red, The young men with a litter wait, Bearing thy daughter dead." Oh, sorrow has her father dear, The mother a heartbreak. They did not heed their daughter's fear Her lover's rage to wake. "Since you would not be mine, No other shall you wed. My blood shall flow with thine, One mingled streamlet red. Our bodies side by side In one tomb close shall lie, To God, the glorified Our souls together fly." THE MURDERED YOUTH. They have killed the gallant youth, For his sixty florins white, In the Tizta they have thrown him, For his stallion bay and bright. The Tizta would not keep him ' In its waves nor let him float, On the strand a fisher found him And took him into his boat. His mother came to wake him, But her voice he could not hear, "Rise up, rise up, my gallant son, Your mother's heart is here." His father came to wake him, But his voice he could not hear, Rise up, rise up, my gallant son, Your father's house is near." His sweetheart came to wake him, But her voice he could not hear, "Rise up, rise up, my rosemary, Clasp my neck with arms so dear." "Oh, tell me, will you make me A coffin of walnut bright?" "My darling, I will make you A coffin of marble white." " Oh, tell me, will you robe me In a shroud of lawn's fine stitch?" "My darling, I will robe you In a shroud of velvet rich." "Oh, tell me, if my coffin new