Tell her that a queen Passing fair was seen, Took me for her mate; That we sit in state On a lofty throne; That the sun and moon Held the golden crown, And a star fell down Straight above my head. Say, when I was wed, Oak-tree, beech, and pine, All were guests of mine At the wedding-feast; And the holy priest Was a mountain high. Made sweet melody Thousand birds from near and far, Every torch a golden star.”[27] The third and last of those folk songs which limited space permits me here to quote is one I have selected as being peculiarly characteristic of the tender and clinging affection these people bear to their progeny. Devoid of poetical merit it may perhaps be, but surely the unsatisfied yearnings of a childless woman have seldom been more pathetically rendered. THE ROUMANIAN’S DESIRE. Would it but th’ Almighty please This my yearning heart to ease, But to send a little son, Little cherub for mine own. All the day and all the night Would I rock my angel bright; Gently shielded it should rest Ever on my happy breast. I would feed it, I would tend it, From each peril I’d defend it; Whisp’ring with the voice of love, Suck, my chick, my lamb, my dove. Did but Heaven hear my voice, Evermore would I rejoice; Golden gifts so bright and rare, Little baby soft and fair. Love that on him I’d bestow, Other child did never know; Such his loveliness and worth, Ne’er was like him child on earth. Lips like coral, skin like snow, Eyes like those of mountain roe; And the roses on his cheek Elsewhere you in vain would seek. Mouth so sweet, and eyes so bright, Would I kiss from morn to night; Kiss his cheek and kiss his hair, Singing, “How my child is fair!” Every holy prayer I know Should secure my child from woe; Every magic herb I’d pluck, For to bring him endless luck.[28] Surely, then, he’d grow apace, Strong of limb and fair of face, And a hero such as he Earth before did never see!