Make ready my bed." "What will you leave your mother dear, My heart, my soul, my little son?" "The grief and pain you 'll have to bear, Dear lady mother. Oh, my heart aches so, Make ready my bed." GYURI BANDI. The rain falls in a few small drops, Gyuri Bandi beside the gallows cries, Beyond Szeged the woodman chops The tree, from which the croaking raven flies. Yet Gyuri Bandi naught has done But twist his kerchief to a solid cord, And knot it round his wife's neck bone, To deck a tree for her sovereign lord. His shirt and kilt he'd bade her lave, That he might ride to his captain's abode.-- Then he bridled his steed so brave, And away to his rose's bower he rode. "Ah, mother dear, I have sinned a sin, I've killed my wife with my love to go."-- Then Gyuri Bandi drank at the inn, And slept in the cloak of Kasa his foe. Gyuri Bandi was bound with chains, From the judge's mouth his doom was told, The gallows tree in winds and rains Dandles and rocks him, alone and cold. Gyuri Bandi had never thought The wind would rock him on the gallows tree, Even Kasa himself, whose blood he'd sought, Was dismal at heart the sad sight to see. THE MOTHER AND DAUGHTER. "Soft shines the light of the evening star, Beneath my window my love stands tall. Dear mother, let me undo the bar, My heart beats fast to come at his call." "My darling rose, to the window glide, Your honey lips let me deeply kiss, A thousand sorrows in my heart abide, With but a touch they 'll bloom in bliss." "Mother, do you hear his magic call? I have tied a bunch of roses red, In his hat to shine above them all, As pride of his kiss would lift my head." "My daughter, you are too young for love, Too soon it is for the matron's cap, For a maiden's smile the world will move, With lover's tears for joy's good hap." " Dearest rose, to each other we're due, We 'll marry the coming Easter morn, Believe me, I 'll be more kind to you Than both your parents since you were born. "Mother, do you hear my lover's vow, Believe me, my pearl will be my life. Dear mother, let me go to him now, I die to tell him I'll be his wife." "My darling, don't trust to young men's speech, He 'll love you while you are not his own, But marriage its sorry lore will teach, With a cudgel's blow to make you groan." "I have seen my father beat you too, But for all his blows you love him dear; I'm sure I can love as well as you, And no warning voice shall make me fear."