Some portion of the rich store of folk songs which from time immemorial have been sung in the country by wandering minstrels, called _cantari_, has been rescued from oblivion by the efforts of Alexandri, and after him Torceanu, who, going about from village to village, have written down all they could learn from the lips of the peasants. One of the most beautiful and pathetic of the ballads thus collected by Alexandri is that of Curte d’Arghisch, an ancient and well-known Roumanian legend, the greater part of which I have here endeavored to reproduce in an English version. These ballads are, however, exceedingly difficult to translate at all characteristically, our language neither possessing that abundant choice of rhyme, so apt to drive a translator to envious despair, nor yet the harmonious current of sound which lends a peculiar charm to the loose and rambling metre in which these songs are mostly written. CLOISTER ARGHISCH. I. By the Arghisch river, By the bonny brim, Goes the Voyvod Negru,[26] Other ten with him. Nine of these his comrades, Master masons be, And the tenth is Manoll, Masters’ master he. And the ten are questing, Where along the tide They shall build the minster, And their fame beside. Then as on they stray, Meets them on the way A shepherd lad, that ditty sad Upon his pipe doth play. “Shepherd lad, dear shepherd lad, Mournful ditty playing, Up the river has thy flock And hast thou been straying? Down have strayed both thou and they, Down along the river? In thy wanderings where hast been, Say, hast thou a building seen Standing by the river, Built of moss-grown ancient stone, All unfinished and alone, Where the hazels, green and lank, Shoot amid the copsewood dank?” “Ay, my master, that have I Sighted as I wandered by; Sooth, a wall doth on the strand Lonely and unfinished stand, At whose sight my hounds in haste Howling fled across the waste!” When this word the prince had heard, Joyful man was he: “Haste away! come, no delay, Haste thee instantly; These, my master masons nine, Lead unto yon wall, And Manoll the tenth, that is Master of them all.” “See ye yonder wall of mine? Know that here the spot I name For the sacred cloister’s shrine, For my everlasting fame. Now, ye mighty masters all, Fellows of the builder’s craft, Haste away! night and day Raise ye, build ye, roof and wall. Build a cloister worthy me, Such as never men did see; Fail to build it as I say, I will build you instantly, Build you living, every one, ’Neath the pile’s foundation-stone.” II.