The Pobratim Part 73

"Blagoslav," retorted the old man, gravely, "vanity caused the archangel's downfall, and vanity is thy besetting sin. Blagoslav, thou knowest that thou readest well, for thou hast too often been praised for it, and now thou seizest every opportunity to hear the sound of thine own voice, which, I freely grant, is a pleasant one."

"Let us hear it, then," said Danko Kvekvic, kindly; "besides, I firmly believe that brother Blagoslav's intentions were good and----"

"Danko Kvekvic," said the old man, gruffly, "you are not a general favourite and an important man in Budua for nothing; you have the evil knack of flattering people's foibles."

"Come, come!" said the priest, good-humouredly, "should we pat a cat on the right side or on the wrong side?" Then, turning to Blagoslav, he added: "I, for myself, shall be thankful to you for beguiling away the long hours by reading something to us."

The young man, who had stood with his eyes cast down, and as still as a statue, sat down on a stool by the table and opened his book.

"What volume of ancient lore have you there?" asked the priest, pleasantly.

"'The Lives of the Saints,' written by a holy monk of our order."

Then, looking up at the old monk, "Which Life shall I read?" he asked.

"Begin with that of our patron saint, Prince George of Cappadocia. It is a holy legend, which we, of course, all know, for the peasant often sings it at his plough, the shepherds say it to one another whilst tending their sheep, and"--turning to Milenko--"I suppose you, too, have often recited it at the helm when keeping your watch on the stormy sea."

"Yes, and invoked his holy name in the hour of danger." Thereupon Milenko crossed himself, and the others followed suit.

"It is one of our oldest legends; still, always a very pleasant one to hear, especially if it is well read. But, before you begin, Blagoslav, let me first set the sufferer's pillow straight and administer to his wants; then we shall listen to your reading without disturbing you."

The old man suited his actions to his words--felt Uros' pulse, gave him with a spoon some drops of cordial, and afterwards sat down.

"Now we are ready," said he to the young monk.

Blagoslav thereupon began as follows:--

PISMA SVETOGA JURJE.

THE SONG OF ST. GEORGE

All hail, O Bosnia! fairest of all lands, Renowned throughout the world since many an age; The springtide of the year renews thy bloom, And with the spring St. George's Day is nigh.

He was the greatest glory of the Cross, Who taught our fathers Christ's most holy creed.

Now G.o.d again has granted us His gifts-- The life-awakening dews, the greenwood shade, The sun's bright rays which warm the fruitful meads, And melt the snow that lingers still a while Upon the high and h.o.a.ry mountain-tops; The flowers fair that grow amongst the gra.s.s, The blood-red rose that sheds its fragrance far, The tawny swallows, from the sunny South, That twitter sweetly 'neath the thatched eaves, Are all the gifts that G.o.d sends every year To Bosnia. Still He grants a greater boon; This is the gladsome day of great St. George.

For though our land can boast of valiant knights, Of warlike princes, eke of holy men, Still greater far than all was _voyvod_ George Who whilom was of Cappadocia Duke.

He killed the grisly dragon that of yore Laid waste the land around Syrene's white walls, And freed the country from a fearful scourge.

Far down a lake full many fathoms deep, There dwelt this dragon dreadful to behold; For from his round red eyes he shot forth flames, And spouted from his snout a sooty smoke That burnt and blasted all around the mere.

This dragon daily slew those daring knights, Who, mounted all on prancing, warlike steeds Had gone to try their strength against the beast; For on his ghastly green and scaly skin They bent and broke, or blunted, their best blades, As striking on the dragon's horrid hide Was worse than hitting at a coat of mail, Or cleaving some hard, flinty rock in twain; So, therefore, like an Eastern potentate, He reigned and ruled the region round Syrene.

It was a terror-striking sight to see The horrid beast rise out in snaky coils, And rear his head with widely-gaping mouth, As towards the town he hissed with such a din That shook the strong and battlemented walls; Thereon to satisfy his hungry maw.

The craven townsfolk, all appalled with fear, Would--as a dainty morsel--send the beast Some lovely maiden in the prime of youth.

If naught was offered to the famished beast, He lifted up his huge and bat-like wings, And flapping, leapt upon the town's white walls; There, gripping 'twixt his sharp and cruel claws, Whoever stood thereby within his reach, He mauled and maimed, and gulped down men by scores, Until the ground seemed all around to be A marsh of mangled flesh and muddy gore, With skulls half split and jagged, splintered bones.

When each and every man within the town Had offered up his child unto the fiend, And every mother wept from early morn, And saw at night her child in dreadful dreams, They told the King his turn had come at last To offer up his daughter to the beast-- His cherished child, the apple of his eye, The only heir of all his wide domains.

Oh! brother mine, hadst thou but seen just then The hot and blinding tears rush from his eyes, Whilst cruel grief convulsed his manly frame; At such a woful sight you would have thought It was some abject woman, not a King, Who, crouching low, was sobbing on the ground.

He kissed his child and said: "My daughter dear, Woe worth the day that thou art reft from me!

For now, alas! who is to wear my crown, Who is to grace my throne when thou art gone?"

When last he ceased to weep, he bade the maids To deck his daughter out in richest dress, With costly Orient pearls and priceless gems, E'en as she were to wed the mighty Czar; And then he said: "My daughter, as thy suite, Take thou with thee my dukes, my n.o.blest peers, And likewise all the ladies of the land, In sable garments clad to grace thy steps.

Still, let us hope some help may come at last, And, meanwhile, pray the great G.o.d Alkoron.

In dire distress all earthly help is vain; Alone, thy G.o.d may come to thy behest And free thee from the dreadful dragon's claws."

The mother hugged her daughter to her heart, The forlorn father blessed his weeping child, Who then departed to her dismal doom; And as she crossed the squares, the crowded streets, The flutes and timbrels played a wailing dirge, That might have melted e'en a heart of stone.

Behind her walked the lords of high degree, Then all the n.o.ble ladies of the land, All clad in widow's weeds and trailing veils.

It was, indeed, a grand and glorious sight To witness all this pageantry of woe, The stately show of grief, the pomp of tears.

The sun that shone upon the Princess's robes, Now glittered brightly on the gold brocade; Her eight rings sparkled all with costly gems, For each alone was worth at least eight towns; Her s.h.i.+ning girdle, wrought of purest gold, Was studded o'er with coral and turquoise; Around her throat she wore a row of pearls, Iridescent, all brought from far-off seas.

Upon her brow she bore the regal gem, Which glittered in the sun with such a sheen That every eye was dazzled by its light.

The maid, moreover, was of beauty rare, Of tall and slender form, yet stately mien, And graceful as the topmost bough that bends, Or branchlet bowing 'neath the summer breeze; Within her hand she held some lilies white, The symbols of a young and modest maid.

She crossed with tearful eyes the crowded streets; With grace she greeted every child she met, And all--whose hearts were not as cold as clay-- Shed bitter tears at such a sight of woe, And sighing, said: "Alas, her mother dear!"

At last when she had almost reached the lake, The mighty dukes, her father's n.o.ble peers, As well as every lady of her suite, Appalled with fear, now bade her all farewell, And hastened back to town before the beast Arose from out the mere to seize his prey.

Now, G.o.d Almighty chose to show His love Not only to the crowd that stood aghast, But unto all the region round Syrene.

He, therefore, sent His servant, saintly George, To turn them from their evil ways to Christ.

The Knight came to the mere just when the maid Remained alone to weep upon her fate, Forsaken as she seemed by G.o.d and man.

The Knight, who saw her from afar, sped on With all due haste; then leaping from his steed, He strode up by her side and asked her why She stood there by the lake appalled, aghast.

For all reply the Princess only sobbed, And with her hand she bade him quickly go.

"Can I afford no help?" then asked the Knight.

"Flee fast away, spur on your sprightly steed; With all due haste, take shelter in the town; Uprising from the waters of the lake, The hungry dragon now doth take his meal; So hie thee hence. Just see, the waters move; Thou hast no time to tarry here to speak."

But George, undaunted by her words, replied: "Fair maiden, dry your eyes and trust in me.

Or rather trust in G.o.d, who sent me here."

"What shall I do, fair Knight?" the maid replied.

"Forswear," he answered, "all thy G.o.ds of clay, And bow with meekness to the name of Christ, Whose Cross we bear to reach a better life; For, with His mighty help, I hope to slay The h.e.l.lish beast that haunts this lonely land; So, therefore, stand aside and let me fight."

Now, when the girl had heard these words of hope, She hastened to reply unto the saint, "If G.o.d doth grant thee superhuman might, That wonders as the like thou canst achieve; If thou hast strength enough to slay the fiend And free me from this awful fate of mine, I shall forsake my G.o.d, false Alkoron, And bow with thee unto thine own true G.o.d, Extolling Him as mightier of the two.

If thou wilt also show me how the sign Of that most mystic Cross is made, Sir Knight, I shall then cross myself both morn and eve.

Moreover, thou shalt have most costly gifts, As well as all the gems I bear on me."

She had but hardly uttered these few words When, lo! the waters blue began to heave, And bubble up with foam, and then the beast Upreared on high his dark and scaly head, That looked just like some sharp and jagged cliff, 'Gainst which small s.h.i.+pwrecked smacks are dashed at night.

Then, rising from the lake, the horrid beast Began to spout the water like a whale, And bellow with a loud, appalling noise, Just like the crocodiles that lurk unseen Amongst the sedges growing by the Nile; The roaring ended in a hollow moan, As when the hot simoon begins to blow In fitful blasts across the Libyan plain.

The Princess stood thereby and shook with fear; She almost fainted at that dreadful sight.

St. George's warlike steed began to rear, And prance and tremble; then it tried to flee; But curbing it with might, and wheeling round, The Knight with clas.h.i.+ng strokes attacked the beast.

His sabre, striking on that scaly skin, Struck forth a shower of sparks that glittered bright Like ocean spray tossed by the wind at night, Or glowing iron 'neath the smithy's sledge, Or when the kindling steel is struck 'gainst flint.

The monster lifted then its leathern wings And, bat-like, tried to fly. It only looked Like some old hen alighting from its perch; With flutt'ring wings outspread it floundered down, And was about to fall upon the Knight And crush him 'neath its huge and ma.s.sy weight; Or grasp him with its sharp and cruel claws, Just as an eagle pounces on a lamb.

But George, invoking Mary to his help, Bent down and wheeled aside; then with one stroke He plunged his sword within the dragon's side, Just near the heart, beneath the ma.s.sy wings.

A flood of dark red blood at once gushed out, Which forthwith tinged the water with this gore.

The monster yelled aloud with such a din That shook the white and battlemented walls Then, writhing like a trodden newt or worm It wallowed in the dust and seemed to die.

But still, before the dragon pa.s.sed away, The Knight undid his long and silken scarf, And bound it round the monster's scaly neck; He handed then the scarf unto the maid, Who now drove on the dragon like a lamb.

They both went through the gate within the town, Between the gaping crowd that stood aside To let them pa.s.s, amazed at such a sight; And thus they crossed the streets and crowded squares, Until they reached the lofty palace gate.

There 'neath the pillared portal stood the King, Who stared astounded at the sight he saw.

The saintly Knight alighted from his steed, And bowing low, he said in accents clear: "Believe in G.o.d the Father, mighty King, Believe in G.o.d the Son, and G.o.d the Holy Ghost; Forsake for aye thy lying G.o.ds of clay, And Sire, let all Syrene with bended knee, Confess the Lord and make the mystic sign Of Jesus Christ, who died upon the Cross.

If thou provoke the anger of the Lord, Far greater scourges might then hap to thee."

The King, who saw his own dear child alive, Shed tears of joy and clasped her to his heart, And gladly then--and without more ado-- There in the midst of all the gathered crowd, With all his Court, he made the mystic sign That scares the foe of man in darkest h.e.l.l; Then bowing down confessed the name of Christ.

Thereon the saint unsheathed the mighty sword, And with a blow struck off the scaly head.

The dragon, that till then had scourged the town, Lay wriggling low amidst the throes of death, And wallowed in a pool of dark red blood, Emitting a most foul and loathsome smell.

Still, at the ghastly sight all stared well pleased, Nay, some threw stones and hit the dying beast, For 'gainst a fallen foe; the vile are brave.

And during all this time the kind old King Had tried to show the grat.i.tude he felt; He led the saint within his palace halls, For there he hoped to grant him many a boon.

"Thou art, indeed," said he, "most brave and true, Endowed by G.o.d with superhuman might, And as a token of my heartfelt thanks Accept this chain of gold, for 'tis the meed Of daring deeds, the like of which thou didst.

This diamond ring till now adorned my hand; I give it thee. Besides, my gallant Knight, One half of all my land will now be thine; Nor even then can I requite thy worth, Except by granting thee my only child, My darling daughter, as thy loving bride."

The saint, however, thanked for all these gifts, And bowing low, he said unto the King: "Thy grat.i.tude to G.o.d alone is due, For I am but a tool within His hand; 'Tis He who sent me here to kill the beast, That h.e.l.l had sent to waste and scourge your land.

Without His help, a man is but a reed, A blade of gra.s.s that bends beneath the breeze, A midge that ne'er outlives a single night; To thy distress He lent a listening ear, And freed thee from that foul and fiendish beast.

Then dash thy foolish G.o.ds of stone and bra.s.s, Build shrines and temples, praise His holy name.

Still, for thy gifts accept my heartfelt thanks; My task, howe'er, is that to go and preach The name of Jesus Christ from town to town.

To Persia straightway I must wend my way And there declare the love of G.o.d to man."

Thereon he took his leave and went away To preach in distant lands a better life; Converting men of high and low degree.

To Alexandra, who then reigned in Rome, He bore the tidings of Christ's holy name; And G.o.d e'er granted to this _voyvod_ saint The might of working strange and wond'rous deeds.

At last he met a saintly martyr's death, And shed his precious blood for Jesus Christ.