GREEK LAYS
THE LIBRARY
OF
THE
OF
LOS
GREEK LAYS, IDYLLS, LEGENDS.
ETC.
BALI.ANTYNE, HANSON AMD CO.
EDINBURGH ANL> LONDON
GREEK LAYS, IDYLLS,
LEGENDS, &c.
A SELECTION FROM RECENT AND
CONTEMPORARY POETS.
{Translated
E. M. EDMONDS. ^f^
INTRODUCTION AND NOTES.^-
anD Cnlargen Cuitton.
LONDON :
TRUBNER & CO., LUDGATE HILL.
1886.
[All rights reserved.]
TO
A/755 FLORENCE M C PHERSON,
IN WARM APPRECIATION,
AND WITH THE ESTEEM WHICH KINDRED SYMPATHIES
INSPIRE,
Gbts Xittle Dolume
IS INSCRIBED.
PREFACE.
IN making a selection from the works of recent and
contemporary Greek poets, the desire has been not
so much to represent the individual poet as the
people whose voice he is. The array of names held
in high and deserved estimation by their country-
men, and the amount of literary production, whether
in drama, epic, or lyric, is so great, that any attempt
to give a just representation of the modern Greek
poets through the medium of one small volume of
translations is impossible. It is possible, however,
by collecting a few national and descriptive poems,
to illustrate the feelings and characteristics of the
people by whose almost unguided efforts the War
of Liberation was carried on.
As the springs and founts of this unexampled
rising had their sources deep down in the affections
and religion of the people, so by the side of historical
and other episodes relating to the struggle for free-
dom I have placed legendary poems, folk-songs, and
vi PREFACE.
other lyrics containing any cherished customs, which,
whether derived from archaic or Christian epochs,
have been from time to time so gracefully clothed
in verse by several living poets.
Such having been the intention, however im-
perfectly carried out, it is naturally to be expected
that a greater number of pages would be devoted
to Aristotle Valaorites than to any other poet ; for
Valaorites is without dispute the most truly national
poet of Greece, who, whether he is narrating one of
his country's tragedies, or describing an individual
grief, chanting as it were an Epirote myriology,
he is through and through, alike in language as in
thought, the poet of the people. Although a gentle-
man by birth and a man of the highest cultivation, he
identifies himself in his poems with the peasant and
his wild fancies the patriotic Klepht of the hills,
the free-hearted brave sailor of the ocean, and the
devoted bishop or monk pouring out his blood for
his country and its faith. His poems may in many
of their phases be objected to as presenting too often
a realistic picture of human suffering, unnecessarily
prolonged painful details, and almost, as it were, a
revelling in horrors ; yet even here he is a true
delineator. Through ages of oppression a quick,
sensitive people, ever alive to receive impressions,
PREFACE. vii
had been made familiar with scenes of brutality
which had produced the effects not only of a partial
obscuration of former perceptions of the bright and
beautiful, but also in the emphasizing in words as
in thought an intense hatred of the oppressor. The
tendency to unnecessarily lengthened description of
suffering is not confined to Valaorites, 1 but is also
conspicuous in other writers. The old Greek irpo-
crwTroTroia, a remarkable feature in Epirote folk-lore,
is seen almost as a religion in Yalaorit^s. Birds,
trees, rocks, and waves are all in sympathy with
the patriot and hero. The above remarks apply in
a less degree to Julius Typaldos, who ranks only
second to Valaoritfjs as a national poet.
The metres and forms of the originals have been
adhered to in every instance where the spirit of the
originals does not suffer by too literal a treatment.
For the long unrhymed hexameter I have mostly
substituted rhymed endings. In the gruesome poem
of " Thanasy Vayia" I have employed changes of
metre more capable, I thought, of pourtraying in
our language the weird pictures there presented.
Throughout I have avoided the admixture of Greek
words. " Manna " and " Manoula," although eupho-
1 For this reason I have omitted some lines in " Thanasy Vayia,"
which are indicated ; also the concluding lines in "The Bell."
viii PREFACE.
niously pretty, are not preferable in their English
dress to " Mother." The same may be said of many
charming diminutives, which, if more homely in the
English equivalent, are at least more intelligible to
readers not familiar with modern Greek. In the
spelling of proper names I have also, out of con-
sideration for the same readers, written them as
nearly as possible as they are popularly pronounced.
The present volume has been enlarged by " Sup-
plemental Poems," consisting of short specimens
from Chrystopoulos, Solomos, and Vlachos, with the
" Elegy to George Gennadius," by Zalakostas, to
which is added a Biographical Note by his son, Mr.
J. Gennadius, and Additional Notes and Appendix.
Notwithstanding the much to be regretted posi-
tion which Greece has lately occupied, the con-
sequences of which may possibly retard for some
time the steady progression depicted in Mr. Jenkyn's
Introduction, I allow this to remain as it first ap-
peared, firmly believing myself that the future of
Greece will yet be worthy of her liberty-loving,
industrious, and intelligent children.
ELIZABETH MAYHEW EDMONDS.
July 1886.
CONTENTS.
INTRODUCTION
PAGE
I
Xags, Ibistorical anD Descriptive.
Julius Typaldos
THE YOUKG KLEPHT'S FAREWELL
THE DEATH OF HAMKOS .
THE FLIGHT l . .
THANASY VATIA
KLEISOVA l
JOHN GALATOS
OUB GRANDMOTHER'S GIRLHOOD
THE ROCK AND THE WAVE
PSARA (SUPPLEMENTAL POEMS)
Aristotle Valadrites
George Zalakostas
Alexander Soutsos
Kostes Palamas .
Aristotle Valadrites
Dionysius Solomos
25
28
33
40
47
57
65
70
82
265
THE SLAVE
THE BELL
DEATH ODE
ALL SOULS' DAT
THE Two ANGELS .
THE CHILD AND DEATH .
EASTER-TIDE .
anD Des.
Aristotle Yalaorites
. Julius Typaldoi
Elias Tantalide*
94
108
112
118
l In "The Flight" and " Kleisova" I follow the versions in Matarangha'a
" Parnassos," which omit two stanzas in the first part of tbe former poem,
as also the love episode in " Kleisova."
CONTENTS.
PAOR
LENOULA
Demetrius Bikelas
133
THE DANCE AND THE GRAVE .
Spyridon Lambros
!37
BEFORE THE PANAGIA
Achilles Paraschos
. 141
THE CHILD AND THE RIVER .
George Vizienos .
143
THE DOVE
. 145
THE ANEMONE
..
. 147
Poems of Sentiment
an> ffeelfiifl.
THE POET
George Zalakostas
151
To A STAR
John Karasutsas
155
LAST WORDS
. 158
THE LAST MAY SONG
Elias Tantalides
. 161
To A RIVER
Achilles Paraschos
. 165
THE DOVES
Theodore Orphanides
. 167
THE FLOWER SELLER
Alexander Rhangabh
. 170
THE GIRL AND THE LEAF
Stamatos Valve's
173
DAY AND NIGHT ....
175
THE ORPHAN'S DEATH (SUPPLEMENTAL
POEMS)
Dionysius Solomos
. 266
HOME SICKNESS (SUPPLEMENTAL POEMS)
Angelus Vlachos
. 272
ELEGY ON GEORGE GENNADIUS (Sup-
LEMENTAL POEMS)
George Zalakostas
275
Xegen&arg poems.
THE LAST DRYAD ....
John Karasutsas
. 181
THE MARRIAGE OF EARTH
George Vizitnos
. 184
THE RAIN
. 186
THE TREES
. 188
EVENING
. 191
THE STORM
'93
THE SEASONS
. 196
MARCH
. 2OI
METAMORPHOSES ....
203
THE BUILDING OF ST. SOPHIA l
if
. 2O7
1 All the poems by Mr. ViziSnoa are taken from "AJ 'ArOi'ict
Avpal "
(TrUbner & Co., 1884).
CONTENTS. xi
Xove Xgrics.
PAGE
THE PARTING Arutomenes Provilcgios 215
Two SONNETS 217
THE OSIER BOUGH .... George Drosines . 219
SNOWS . 221
A DIAMOND . 223
PITY 'Tis . 224
WHY, MARY ? . 225
ANTHOULA (SUPPLEMENTAL POEMS) . Dionysius Solomos . 266
VINTAGE SONG ,, Athanasius Chrystopoulos 268
THE THREE FAVOURS ,, . 269
THE REQUEST ,, Alexander Rhangabes. 270
ffolfc Songs.
From the El5v\\ia of GEORGE DROSINES.
THE ONLY DAUGHTER 229
THE MAIDEN AND THE SAILOR 231
THE GIFTS 233
THE WITCHCRAFTS OF LOVE 236
THE OLD KLEPHT 240
THE SLAVE 243
THE NEREIDS 2^6
NOTES 251
SUPPLEMENTAL POEMS 265
APPENDIX NOTES . 280
BIOGRAPHICAL NOTICES OF RECENT POETS,
SELECTIONS FROM WHOSE WORKS ARE
GIVEN IN THIS VOLUME.
ATHANASIUS CHRTSTOPOULOS, the eon of a priest, has earned
for himself the title of the " Modern Anacreon." He was
born in Macedonia in 1770, and was at an early age taken
by his father to Bucharest to study, and from thence went
to Venice and Holland. Returning to Bucharest, he held
many honourable posts there as an instructor ; and, in
1836, desiring to pass the rest of his life in Greece, went
to Athens, but not being able to bear the heat, returned
again to Bucharest, where he died in 1847 (pp. 268, 269).
DIONTSIUS SOLOMOS, who has achieved his celebrity chiefly
through his "Hymn to Liberty," was born in Zante in
1798 (living to see the fruition of his patriotic poem), and
died in Corfu in 1857. His minor poems are character-
ised by simplicity and grace. His education was for the
most part carried on in Italy (pp. 265, 266).
GEORGE ZALAKOSTAS, born in Epirus, went with his father,
when nine years old, to Florence for his studies. The
eventful year of 1821 (he being then eighteen) called him,
together with his father and brother, to Missolonghi, to
xiv BIOGRAPHICAL NOTICES.
take part in the struggle. His patriotic poems are often
narratives of his own personal experience. He never lefc
the army. His death in Athens in 1857 was accelerated
by his grief at the untimely loss of seven out of his nine
children (pp. 51, 151, 265, 275).
ALEXANDER SOUTSOS, born in Constantinople in 1803 ; died
in Athens in 1863. He studied at Chios and Paris, and
his first compositions were in the French language. He
cannot in justice lay claim to the title of " Father of
Modern Greek Poetry," which has been accorded to him
by some. The neglect which his countrymen bestowed
upon him and his brother Panagiotes during their lives,
and the penury which accompanied them both through-
out, may have called forth this overstatement in tardy
acknowledgment of their merits. The poetry of both
brothers shows the undue influence of the French school
(p. 65).
JOHN KARASUTSOS, born in Smyrna in 1824, and dying in
1873, seems by the accounts of contemporaries to have
endured throughout life many sorrows. His poems have
been described as breathing all the sweetnesses of Ionia,
but they are somewhat wanting in force and originality
(pp. 155, 181).
EMAS TANTALiofis was born in Constantinople in 1818 of
needy parents. His intelligence and insurmountable per-
severance overcame all drawbacks. He studied botli in
Smyrna and Athens with the greatest success, and devoted
all his powers to philology and philosophy. Nothing
daunted by his blindness, which occurred in 1845, when
he was only twenty-seven, he still continued working, and
BIOGRAPHICAL NOTICES. xv
in the year that succeeded this calamity was chosen
Professor of Greek Rhetoric and Literature at the Theo-
logical School at Chalkis, a post he filled for thirty years.
He died at Constantinople in 1876 (pp. 130, 161).
ARISTOTLE VALAORITES, the most national poet of Modern
Greece, was a native of Leucadia, and died in 1879. He
belonged to an old Epirote family. His studies were
carried on at Corfu, Paris, and at many universities of
Western Europe. He afterwards fixed himself in the
Ionian Isles, where he interested himself in politics. To
him and to Achilles Paraschos only among modern Greek
poets does the eminent critic Roides accord the gift of the
highest genius (pp. 32, 82, 89).
JULIUS TYPALDOS was born at Lixuri in Cephalonia, and
was educated in Italy, graduating at Padua. Upon his
return to his native land he was admitted to the bar,
eventually became judge, and for some time held the post
of President of the Correctional Tribunal in the island of
Zante. Later on he was nominated a member of the
Supreme Council of Justice, which office he held up to
the end of the English Protectorate. After the union of
the islands with Greece, Typaldos retired to Florence,
where he wrote much. He died, however, in Corfu in
1 88 1, whither he had gone only a few months previously,
full of years and iu failing health. His only collected
poems was a small volume published in Corfu in 1856,
and long out of print. 1 Many of his poems are found in
collections without their authorship being apparently
1 A public library at Corfu, and also a Greek gentleman from his private
library in Athens, generously and synonymously sent me this volume as a
loan.
CONTEMPORARY POETS.
known, as for example in tbe " Anthology of Michael-
opolos," Athens, 1885, there will be found "The Two
Flowers," called there " Maria," as if from the pen of an
anonymous writer (pp. 25, 118).
CONTEMPORAKY POETS.
PAOS
Alexander Rhangabes, Hellenic Minister at Berlin . 1 70, 270
Demetrius Bikelas 133
Dr. Angelus Vlachos 271
Dr. Spyridon Lambros 137
Achilles Paraschos 141, 165
Kostes Palamas . ....... 70
George Vizi entis 1 143,177,184
Aristomenes Provilegios . . .. . . .215
George Drosines 219
Stamatos Valves 1 73
1 Now generally written Vizyenos ; but I retain the form which the poet
used in his first letter to me. which was in the English language.
INTRODUCTION.
MANY interesting books have been written upon
modern Greece, but very much of the most valuable
information is contained either in expensive works, or
in volumes now out of print, and therefore inaccessible
to the general reader. This being the case, com-
paratively little is known in this country of the his-
tory of the War of Independence, in which our fathers
took so lively an interest.
As this little work may fall into the hands of some
more especially the youth of both sexes who have
not had their sympathies awakened by the many
deeds of daring of the Hellenes during that eventful
period, it has been deemed advisable to add to the
value of the notes appended to some of the poems
contained herein, by presenting a few sketches cal-
culated to show that the modern Greeks are not the
degenerate race some Turkophiles have represented
them to be.
Space will not allow any long series of narrations,
2 INTRODUCTION.
whether of individual or collective heroism, in which
the War of Independence was so rich ; a cursory glance
only will be given at three tragic episodes sufficient
in themselves to exemplify the spirit of the whole
history of that time viz., the fates of Suli, Chios,
and Missolonghi.
In the poem in this collection called " The Flight,"
we are taken back to a period immediately preceding
the general rising of the Greek peoples a period
when the brave Suliots maintained their sturdy
independence against all the forces led for their
overthrow by Ali Pasha of Epiros. Notwithstanding
Ali's defeat as recorded in the poem, he, as sopn
as his arrangements were complete, renewed the
struggle with his wonted energy.
His troops, composed of diverse elements, mustered
at the least 2O,OOO, chiefly Mahometan Albanians,
who were stimulated to fight in their master's cause
by a clever revival of an old Mahometan prophecy,
that an Albanian empire would be established upon
the ruins of the Turkish power, which latter, from
various causes, even then showed evident signs of
rapid decay and collapse.
In the heroic defence of hearth and home, the brave
people of Suli could not muster, at most, more than
some 1 500 ; but the sacredness of their cause animated
them with almost more than human courage. Even
women and boys fought against the common foe.
INTRODUCTION. 3
Where all made themselves conspicuous in repelling
the fierce onslaughts of Ali's troops, it would appear
invidious to particularise persons. History, however,
has left on record two names, towering above their
fellows as "the bravest of the brave" Photo
Tzavellas, a son of the Lambro of " The Flight," and
the good priest Samuel, who was known indifferently
as the Caloyero or Papas by the mountaineers.
During the period under notice this remarkable
man arrived at Suli : from whence nobody seemed to
know. His antecedents were a mystery, and remained
so ; but he came to throw in his lot unreservedly with
the hardy mountaineers. By his fervent Christianity,
coupled with the extraordinary devotion he exhibited
to their cause, the Papas in a very short time gained
the entire confidence of the people, and was appointed
their polemarch or minister of war. He fulfilled all
the duties that devolved upon him as a Christian
priest, whilst at the post of danger he was ever fore-
most ; no wonder then that the Suliots came to look
upon him with awe, and this feeling would not be
diminished when we bear in mind the remarkable
title of " 77 reXeuTaia Kpi<rt<; " " the last judgment"
by which he designated himself in his proclamations
and addresses to the Suliots.
The Greeks, ever allured by the marvellous,
crowded round him with enthusiasm, and followed
his footsteps from village to village, whilst he pro-
4 INTRODUCTION.
claimed amongst them " the fulfilment of time," " the
overthrow of Kedar," and the approaching " glory of
the remnant of the Lord."
His ascetic piety, his wild and prophet-like aspect,
his fastings, his preachings, and above all, the purity
of his patriotism, served to endear him to his com-
panions. During the last close investment of their
mountain strongholds by Ali's forces, the Suliots had
to undergo the greatest privations, being at one time
reduced to such straits as to be compelled to subsist
for a while upon grass boiled with a little meal. The
end however drew near, as Ali found means by cor-
ruption, to accomplish what he had failed to do by
dint of arms ; but even in their direst extremity the
Suliots were able to obtain terms, viz., permission
to retire to Parga, and compensation to be given for
the large quantity of gunpowder still in their maga-
zine. The transfer of this latter was undertaken by
the brave Caloyero, who remained behind with five
companions for the purpose, whilst the inhabitants
left in companies, under the different chiefs.
The last act of the Caloyero was in full keeping
with what had gone before, and proved that the con-
fidence reposed in him had not been misplaced.
When the negotiations were concluded, he was
asked by Ali's secretary what treatment he expected
now that he was in the Vizier's power (who, it should
be added, purposed having him flayed alive) : the
INTRODUCTION. 5
reply was characteristic of the man. " He can in-
flict none," said Samuel, "that can have any terrors
for one who has long hated life, and who thus
despises death," suiting the action to the words by
discharging his pistol into a barrel of gunpowder
upon which he was seated. The terrific explosion
which followed shattered everthing into atoms, one
Greek alone escaping.
It would take too long to follow the poor Suliots
in their retreat. Harassed and cut off by Ali's forces,
comparatively few ultimately reached a place of safety :
but Photo Tzavellas shone with additional lustre on
account of the skill and bravery he exhibited in con-
ducting the band under his command through so
many dangers. It has been deemed right to treat
thus largely upon the Suliots, as their protracted
defence and heroic conduct in the last extremity
exercised a great moral influence on the minds of
the Greeks everywhere, and very materially pre-
pared the way for the War of Independence
by teaching the down-trodden Christians their
strength.
In the deadly contest that soon followed, when the
whole Greek nation rose in arms to recover their
freedom, innumerable examples of heroism present
themselves to our view.
The Greeks rose against a tyranny of 400 years'
standing, the greatest evil of which was that it
6 INTRODUCTION.
tended to make its victims well nigh as debased and
as barbarous as its ministers. In thus considering
the position of the Greeks, it is much to their honour
that they had virtues left that they had sufficient
valour, sufficient unity and constancy to carry on the
struggle at all.
During the reigns of the Sultans immediately fol-
lowing the fall of Constantinople, one cannot doubt
but that the oppression of the Greeks was far less
than it was under their miserable successors in later
periods. The early Sultans were mostly great men
and great rulers ; their government was vigorous,
and if stern often cruel it was far from being
always unjust. With those later detestable tyrants
and voluptuaries, in whose characters weakness and
wickedness were combined, the Hellenes became ex-
posed to the exactions and insults of innumerable
subordinate despots, and could no longer, with the
same confidence, " flee from petty tyrants to the
throne." One privilege after another was curtailed,
or withdrawn altogether, until at last it was made
penal to teach a Greek child either the language
or the religion of his fathers.
In order to keep alive the fire of Hellenism and
save the nation from being altogether lost in a
flood of ignorance moral, intellectual, and religious
it would seem as if God put it into the hearts of
the leaders to hold night assemblies for the purpose
INTRODUCTION. 7
of instruction ; and we are forcibly reminded of this
in the little song " fayyapdtci pov \ap7rp6s"
" pretty little moon,
Shine out and guide my way ;
And while I steal to school,
Let not my footsteps stray.
There knowledge good to us is given,
A precious gift sent down from heaven."
Concurrently with the revival of learning, commerce
also, from various causes, began to attain large dimen-
sions in the hands of Greeks, many of whom, by their
successes as merchants and traders, amassed large
fortunes.
This reacted upon the country in such a way that
educational institutions increased with so much rapidity
that every Greek community possessed a school where
their youth received instruction not only in the ver-
nacular, but often also in the ancient language. Very
shortly the public press came to make itself heard in
the number of works issued therefrom on history,
poetry, philosophy and science, which were eagerly
read by all classes of the people. With this influx
of commerce, and the spread of education, the long-
lost voice of patriotism began to be heard, and the
desire to free their country took possession of the
Klepht on the mountain side, the mariner on the
ocean, and the peasant in the field ; and it is perhaps
8 INTRODUCTION.
to this aroused intelligence of the nation (combined
with the advance of commerce) more than to any
other cause that we must trace the origin" of the Greek
Revolution. At this period we find the advent of
such men as Koraes, Rhigas, and others.
The former, whilst encouraging his countrymen in
resistance to the Turks, did not fail to plead their
cause before Western Europe, and endeavour to en-
list sympathy in their behalf. Of his literary labours
it has been said that no country except Germany
could show his equal. He laboured to purify the
language and reduce it to fixed rules ; and it was
ever his aim to elevate the moral qualities of his
countrymen.
Rhigas, known by his spirited heart - stirring
war -songs, fairly electrified the whole population
of Greece, and they rose as one man to fight " for
the holy faith in Christ and the freedom of their
country."
A prominent (and unique) feature in the War of
Independence is the utter absence of any real leader
on the Greek side ; the movement was essentially
one of the people, and throughout their fiery ordeal
we fail to come across one real chief claiming either
the confidence or the obedience of the nation. With
the exception of Ypsilanti and Mavrokordato, and
perhaps two or three others, the leading characters
were men from the crowd. This has left its mark
INTRODUCTION. 9
down to the present time upon the Hellenic king-
dom, where titles of nobility are still not to be
found. Even such an adverse critic as M. About
has paid the Greeks an admirable compliment on
this score.
From the toiling class we have a glorious roll of
names. Amongst others, the most perfect characters
are Andreas Miaoulis, the great naval commander,
who is said to have been " an iron man, who never
smiled and never wept," and who after his victories
retired and lived as a private citizen ; Markos Bot-
zares, the simple-hearted descendant of an ancient
Suliote family ; and Konstantinos Kanares, who
claims a special interest in that he serves as a con-
necting link between the far-off past and our own
times, living long enough to hold office as premier
of his country under King George, and surviving
until A.D. 1877, full of years and honours. How
the then youthful sailor avenged the butcheries and
rapine committed by the savage Asiatic hordes on
the peaceful and defenceless inhabitants of Chios (a
home of learning and civilisation), will be repeated
in the language of Gordon : " The fast of Ramadan
ended on Wednesday the iQth, . . . and the Grand
Admiral [of the Turks] celebrated on the night of
the 1 8th, by a splendid entertainment, the approach
of the moon of Bayram, which he was not fated to
behold. Surrounded by the blood-stained trophies
to INTRODUCTION.
of Scio, he had forgotten the vicinity of the Greeks,
who, since their previous failure, lay in the harbour
of Psarra, meditating a plan for his discomfiture.
We have now to narrate one of the most extra-
ordinary [naval] exploits recorded in history, and
to introduce to the reader's notice, in the person of
a young Psarriote sailor, the most brilliant pattern
of heroism that Greece in any age has had to boast
of a heroism, too, springing from the purest
motives, unalloyed by ambition or avarice. The
Greeks were convinced that if they did not by a
decisive blow paralyse the Turkish fleet before its
junction with that of Egypt, their islands must be
exposed to imminent danger; it was proposed,
therefore, in their naval counsel, to choose a dark
night for sending in two Irulots by the northern
passage, while at each extremity of the strait two
ships of war should cruise in order to pick up the
brulottiers. Constantino Canaris of Psarra (already
distinguished by his conduct at Erisso) and George
Pepinis of Hydra, with thirty-two bold companions,
volunteered their services; and having partaken of
the Holy Sacrament, sailed on the 1 8th in two brigs
fitted up as fire-ships, and followed at some distance
by an escort of two corvettes, a brig, and a schooner.
They beat to windward in the direction of Tchesm6
under French and Austrian colours, and about sun-
set drew so nigh to the hostile men-of-war, that
INTRODUCTION. 11
they were hailed and ordered to keep off; they
tacked accordingly, but at midnight bore up with
a fresh breeze, and ran in amongst the fleet. The
Psarriote brulot, commanded by Canaris, grappled
the prow of the Admiral's ship, anchored at the
head of the line a league from the shore, and in-
stantly set her on fire ; the Greeks then stepped
into a large launch they had in tow, and passed
under her poop, shouting, "Victory to the Cross!"
the ancient cry of the imperial armies of Byzantium.
The Hydriotes fastened their brig to another line-
of-battle ship carrying the treasure and the Reala
Bey's flag, and communicated the flames to her, but
not so effectually, having applied the match a
moment too soon ; they were then picked up by
their comrades, and the thirty-four brulotticrs sailed
out of the channel through the midst of the enemy
without a single wound ; they had, however, in
their bark a barrel of gunpowder, determined to
blow themselves up rather than be taken. While
they departed, full of joy and exultation, the roads
of Scio presented an appalling sight. The Capitan
Pasha's ship, which in a few minutes became one
sheet of fire, contained 2286 persons, including
most of the captains of the fleet, and unfortunately
also a great number of Christian slaves ; not above
1 80 survived. . . . Although the Reala Bey's ship
got clear of the Hydriote brulot, and the flames were
12 INTRODUCTION.
extinguished on board of her, yet she was so seri-
ously damaged as to be unfit for ulterior service ;
and the brulot, driving about the roadstead in a
state of combustion, set fire to a third two-decker,
which was likewise preserved through the exer-
tions of its crew. Overwhelmed with despair, the
Capitan Pasha was placed in a launch by his
attendants, but just as he seated himself there, a
mast falling, sunk the boat, and severely bruised
him ; nevertheless, expert swimmers supported
Kara Ali to the beach, only to draw his last
breath on that spot where the Sciote hostages had
suffered !
" For three quarters of an hour the conflagration
blazed, casting its light far and wide over the sea and
coast of Asia, and alarming even the city of Smyrna.
. . . At 2 o'clock on the morning of the 1 9th, the flag-
ship blew up with a dreadful explosion. It would be
difficult to paint the consternation of the Turks : all
vessels cut their cables, some running out of the south-
ern channel, others beating up towards the northern.
. . . From such desolation, we turn with pleasure to
a subject worthy of delight and admiration ; the
triumphant return of Canaris and his valiant com-
panions. It was a proud day for Greece when those
intrepid men, entering the Psarrian harbour amidst
the firing of cannon, ringing of bells, waving of
banners, and the acclamations of the seamen and
INTRODUCTION. 13
citizens, doffed their slippers, and walked in silence
to a neighbouring church, to render thanks to
Providence, which had granted to thirty-four cham-
pions so signal a victory over the infidel host."
(Gordon, I. 366.)
This was not the only act of daring performed by
Kanares, and his intrepid courage evoked universal
admiration. His epitaph was pointedly written by
Wilhelm Miiller, and thus translated into English by
Professor Aytoun, many years ago :
" I am Constantino Kanaris,
I who lie beneath this stone ;
Twice into the air in thunder
Have the Turkish galleys blown.
In my bed I died a Christian,
Hoping straight with Christ to be ;
Yet one earthly wish is buried
Deep within the grave with me :
That upon the open ocean,
When the third Armada came,
They and I had died together,
Whirled aloft on wings of flame ! "
This and other bright examples did not fail to pro-
duce fruit in the steady growth of Phil-Hellenism,
and we find such men as Byron, Murray, Gordon,
Hastings, Church, and Cochrane, with a number of
other distinguished persons from various countries of
Europe, taking their place among the native defenders
U INTRODUCTION.
of Hellas. But what undoubtedly contributed more
than anything else to gain the sympathy of Europe
and accelerate practical intervention was the fall of
Missolonghi a name which will ever be associated
with that of Lord Byron. And what heart capable
of any generous emotion does not kindle at the name
of Missolonghi ? Month after month the little band
of heroes in the city beheld land and sea covered
with the camps and fleets of the Turks and Egyp-
tians. Yet not a man dreamed of surrender ; what
men with arms in their hands could dream of it,
while they saw priests, and women, and children
writhing on the stake beneath the walls ? At last
came that terrible night, that fearful sally which
will live in the pages of history as long as the world
stands. During the last three weeks of the siege the
chief articles of food had been sea-weeds and the
leather of their shoes, which, softened by a little oil,
was almost regarded as a delicacy. In the streets
there were seen lying old and young, men and women,
sick, famished, or dead. To save the remnant, it was
resolved to make a sortie, and on the night of the
22d April A.D. 1826, out of 3000 men the bravest
warriors were selected to force a passage, sword in
hand, through the whole hostile army surrounding
the devoted city. A number of others unable to
follow either from age or disease, or unwilling to
leave their beloved homes and the tombs of their
INTRODUCTION. 15
ancestors, assembled near the powder magazine, and
calmly awaited the end.
When the moment arrived, the Greeks best able
to fight took the lead, being followed by all the young
men at arms. All the women were likewise armed,
and disguised as men, many carrying a sword in the
right hand, and an infant either in the left, or fastened
to their backs. They were followed by the old men,
women, and children, under the protection of a body
of soldiers forming the rear. When at last the order
was given in a thundering voice, " Forward ! forward !
death to the barbarians ! " with superhuman courage
the vanguard of the Greeks rushed on the fortifications
of the enemy, and nothing was able to stop their
progress. Not the savage hordes of Reshid, not the
disciplined battalions of Ibrahim the Egyptian, could
endure that desperate charge. However, some one
shouted out " Back into the town ! " and great
numbers were driven back by terror. With these
the Arabs and Turks entered the city, and fearful
scenes were enacted, which lasted the whole night.
The Greeks fired the magazine, and next morning
Missolonghi was a blackened heap of ruins, among
which some 3000 Greeks were buried, together with
many thousands of their enemies. Of those who cut
their way through, only some 1800 succeeded in
escaping to a place of safety, the remainder having
fallen heroically as martyrs in the cause of liberty.
16 INTRODUCTION.
Missolonghi fell, but her ruins served to draw the
attention of all Europe to the fact that it was high
time, in the cause of humanity and justice, for the
Western Powers to put an end to a conflict that had
raged so long and so relentlessly. At last Greece
became free. Since its independence the little king-
dom has passed through various vicissitudes. It has
been left to our own times to witness an enlargement
of its borders ; when the next extension of its frontier
will take place it is beyond our province to forecast.
That she is capable, however, of bearing an enlarge-
ment, and thereby to take a more forward place in
the council of nations, no true observer can gainsay.
The kingdom is making steady progress com-
mercially and educationally ; life and property are
safe ; and under the wise administration of King
George the state of Greece indicates a steady follow-
ing in the path of the more advanced countries of
Western Europe.
From the very nature of the Greek insurrection,
when a whole nation rose in revolt against their
oppressors, those comprised in the rising embraced,
as might be expected, very different elements : they
were, however, of one mind in defence of their faith
and fatherland. The Klephts formed no inconsider-
able part of the fighting element, and upon many an
occasion did valiant service. They knew intimately
every defile and mountain - pass. How well they
INTRODUCTION. 17
utilised this knowledge history records in the total
destruction of not a few well-disciplined and brave
Turkish battalions.
One might expect that these Klephts, exposed as
they were to constant dangers, living mostly in in-
accessible places, often spending whole nights with
no covering over their heads but the heavens who
in regard to elements of self-denial closely approached
monastic austerity should, from the very roughness
of the life they led, be entirely wanting in acts of
kindness, and given to deeds of vindictive cruelty.
To judge them so, however, would render them
great injustice. If they were implacable in their
enmity towards their oppressors, no acts of revolting
cruelty have ever been charged against them : the
ball, or dagger, speedily and surely put the foe out
of pain. To their friends they were faithful to the
death, and many are the stories recording acts of
the utmost devotion and humanity on their part. It
should be also mentioned to their credit that notwith-
standing the many inducements offered to the con-
trary, they clung tenaciously to the religion of their
fathers, apostacy among them being a thing almost
unknown.
It would be both unjust and ungenerous to omit
in this crude sketch, special mention of another class
who took a noble part in the war, viz., the Greek
women. The females of Suli handled the musket
B
1 8 INTRODUCTION.
with dexterity, and when danger ran high, stood side
by side with their fathers, husbands, brothers, and
sons in many a hard-fought engagement, Moscho, the
wife of Lambro Tzavellas, being particularly celebrated
for her bravery. It would be a long category to record
the many names that suggest themselves, some of
whom, like Despo's, have been enshrined in song.
Bobolina, a wealthy and heroic Spezziote, not only
fitted out a number of her own vessels against the
Turks, but commanded in person and participated
actively throughout the war, invariably showing great
courage. Of a different type, but none the less
serviceable to the cause, was the refined and accom-
plished Madalena Mavroyenis, the heroine of Mykonos,
who spent a fortune in alleviating the wants of her
distressed compatriots, and whose many sacrifices
and devotion will make her memory ever dear, not
only to every Hellene, but also to every one who
appreciates pure and disinterested patriotism.
But undoubtedly the most striking instance of all,
was the part taken by the women in the defence of
Missolonghi, to which allusion has already been made,
and to which our special attention is called in the poem,
' Our Grandmother's Girlhood." That this historical
poem is not a creation of fancy, or the description of
an isolated case, will be self-evident when it is borne
in mind the number of women who must have been
in the city at the time. Of the valiant 1800 who
INTRODUCTION. 19
survived the horrors of the terrible night of the sortie,
nearly 200 were women, who like the brave old lady
forming the subject of the poem, had literally to cut
their way to freedom !
Justice also demands that these remarks should
not be brought to a close without stating how much
the Greek nation owes to the Orthodox Church.
The very existence of the Greek nation is, more
than to any cause, due to the existence of the Ortho-
dox Church. The profession of the Orthodox faith
was the distinguishing badge of the Byzantine Empire
for the last six centuries of its existence. It was to
those who held it instead of a nationality. So, too,
in later days, under French, Venetian, and Ottoman
bondage, religion and nationality have ever been
identified in the Grecian mind. When the Greek,
either from interest or other causes, ceased to be an
Orthodox Christian, he became denationalized, and
invariably sided with the oppressors.
A member of the Latin communion, or a Moslem
of the purest Hellenic blood, ceases to identify himself
with the Greek people : the Cretan Moslems, the
most oppressive of all, were of Grecian origin; the
Latins of Syros, throughout the War of Independence,
openly sympathised with the infidels against the
Orthodox insurgents ; it was by the hands of Chris-
tian Mirdites that Botzares met his glorious end.
Consequently to the Hellene, Greek and Orthodox are
20 INTRODUCTION.
synonymous terms. The bishops and priests, when
the time for active resistance came, were the first
to lead the Greeks against the tyrants. And who
suffered more cruel tortures than the clergy ? They
were amongst the first martyrs in the struggle for
liberty and religion.
Gregory x the Patriarch of Constantinople and the
Bishops of Ephesus, of Derkos, of Nicomedia, Thessa-
lonica, Adrianople, Anchialos, and many other hier-
archs, were hanged in different quarters of the capital,
and their bodies, after having been exposed during
some days to the insults of the Turkish rabble, were
cut down and surrendered to a mob of Jews, by
whom they were dragged through the streets, and
afterwards flung into the sea. The Archbishop
Germanos was the first who raised the standard of
liberty near Patros. It was the Bishop of Rygon who,
1 Gregory the Patriarch was offered life, wealth, and honours, if
he would declare himself a convert to the creed of Mahomet. He
repelled the suggestion with scorn, and bade his executioners cease
from insulting the servant of the Crucified. After that he spoke
no more save in aspirations to God. His lifeless body, floating on
the waters of the Bosphorus, was picked up by a Russian vessel, and
conveyed to Odessa, where it was buried with great pomp. On
the fiftieth anniversary of his death the Greek nation succeeded
in having his body brought back again into their midst, when it
received its second burial in the Cathedral of Athens, the funeral
oration of the martyred Patriarch being delivered on the occasion
by the learned and eloquent Archbishop of Syros and Tinos
Alexander Lycurgus, since gone to his rest. [See Miss Skene's
"Life of Archbishop Lycurgus."]
INTRODUCTION. 21
during the prolonged sufferings of the siege of Misso-
longbi, encouraged the besieged by his heroic example
to fight like lions. Numerous other ecclesiastics took
part in the struggle whose characters may well be
summarised in that of the Bishop of Helos, of whom
it has been said that " with every external sign of
humility, he was a real enthusiast, always ready to
preach or to fight, and consequently had an extra-
ordinary influence over the soldiers."
We find the very same spirit animating the Greek
clergy in our own times. Witness the devotion ex-
hibited during the struggle in Crete, when the cele-
brated monastery of Arkadi was blown up rather than
surrender to the Turks, and the Cretan ecclesiastics,
who were able so to do, carried the rifle and bore their
full share throughout the campaign. A gentleman
who took part in the fighting in that island in 1866
and 1 867 writes of one popular priest a representa-
tive of his class that " the spirit of a Crusader
landing on the shores of Palestine seemed to burn
within him." Yet with all this practical action in
the temporal interest of her members, the Eastern
Church has not forgotten her spiritual mission. She
has had to cope with innumerable difficulties, has
witnessed trials and persecutions, often of the most
cruel description ; nevertheless she has ever held fast
" the charge committed to her," and to-day as of old
she neglects not to pray " for the peace of the whole
22 INTRODUCTION.
world, stability of the holy Churches of God, and the
union of all."
In compiling this prelude to the very interesting
poetical versions which follow, the writer has not
scrupled to avail himself largely of the labours of
others. 1 If what is thus imperfectly put together
serves to awaken sufficient interest in any reader not
already conversant with the excellent works of Gor-
don, Tennent, Xenos, Gennadios, Lewis Sergeant,
and Hilary Skinner, to go into those trustworthy
sources for fuller information, the object of this intro-
duction will have been gained.
MATTHIAS JENKYNS.
CARDIGAN, SOUTH WALES.
1 In addition to the authors named later on, to whom the writer
is under deep obligation, much use has been made of an excellent
article which appeared in the Edinburyh Review for April 1856.
LAYS,
HISTORICAL AND DESCRIPTIVE.
TTbe 12oun0 Ifclepbt's jfarewell.
JULIUS TYPALDOS.
" FAREWELL ye lofty mountains, ye streams of limpid
light,
Ye mornings bath'd with dewdrops, each moonbeam-
clothed night,
And you dear Klephts my comrades, who've made
the Turks oft fly.
I have no illness wasting me, though I go forth to
die,
But when the bullet felleth me my soul will yet
remain
A small dark bird becoming a swallow black,
who fain
Must go in early dawning to see you fight once
more.
And when the wan moon cometh out, when all
the battle's o'er
Then back unto the cypress-tree, with swift wings
having flown,
I'll sit and mourn the few Klepht lads with whom
the earth is strown
26 THE YOUNG KLEPHT'S FAREWELL.
All through the lonesome night-hours whilst they're
lying there in sleep,
Listening to their mothers who with wailing dirges 1
weep."
" Lo ! the Pasha's portal now is reached so pause
thee in thy song."
" Farewell, high hills, and rivers ever running bright
along
Oh bury me, my brothers, where the reeds grow tall
and thin,
There to hear the choral nightingales when they lead
April in ;
And when in San Sofia in the great church shall
resound
The song of ' Christ is risen ' whilst the incense floats
around,
To the City as a snow-white bird I'll haste to fly
away,
And like a child of Paradise sing out my gladsome
lay/-
These words had scarcely flown his lips, when dead
he fell to earth.
But where they laid him in the ground a cypress
had its birth ;
1 Mvpio\6yia. = myriologies. See note end of vol.
THE YOUNG KLEPHTS FAREWELL. 27
And every day at dawning, amid the breath of
May,
A lonely bird would go and 'mong that cypress'
branches stay,
And look unto the East to the City l gazing long,
And sing in mournful tones and low its sad and
plaintive song.
1 As the devout Jews have ever turned to Jerusalem with intense
longing and mourned their lost Sion, so with like regretful
affection the true Greeks have looked for four centuries towards the
City and San Sofia, which the old fragment, supposed to have
been written soon after the taking of Constantinople, so well em-
bodies in the lines beginning
ILfipav /ecu TT\V 'Ajiav 2o<piav rb /j.^ya /j.ovaffrijpi..
Deatb ot Ibamfeos. 1
JULIUS TTPALDOS.
WHAT terror is this lone Tepleni 2 that fills.
The sun veiled in clouds passes over the hills
Shouts of joy with loud blasphemies rising up near
With oaths, and with wailings, and voices of fear !
She lies on her darken'd bed writhing with rage,
For now 'tis with death the stern strife she doth
wage;
But the same savage spirit still gnaweth the breast
Of the mother of Ali with unpitying unrest.
O Death ! quench the words from her lips ere they
pass;
Not yet hath the blood been outpoured. Alas !
1 Hamkos, the mother of Ali, being in the agonies of a painful
death, left as her dying legacy to her son (between whom and her-
self there was a great love), the destruction of Gardiki, for an
insult received forty years previously. See notes on Aii Pasha.
3 Tepleni or Tebleni was first occupied by the Turks in 1401,
and was an obscure town in Argyro-Castron, and owes its celebrity
to Ali Pasha having been born there "le fatal avantage" as M.
Pouqueville recounts it.
THE DEATH OF HAMKOS. 29
Dismay and destruction she willeth to be
It is slaughter the sword she bequeaths to Ali !
" Where art thou, my son, that thou leavest me
lone l
Ah, haste thee, for Death will now make me his own ;
The depths of my bosom are chilling and cold
While others in joyous life festivals hold !
Every nerve in my body is thrilling with pain,
Whilst another face glows with the rose' purple stain ;
For me there is only a bed in the earth
While for others are wreaths, the dance, singing,
and mirth.
Ah Son ! make Gardiki 2 a desert and waste,
A wide place of tombs, whither hungry wolves haste ;
1 Ali made all the fiery haste which he possibly could command,
but did not arrive until his mother was dead.
2 " J'avais visite cette ville florissante, J'avais connu ses families
patriciennes. . . . J'avais ete temoin de ses malheurs recents. . . .
Je fus frapp^ de terreur en y entrant. Je frissonais, en voyant les
mosque'es abandonees, les rues de'sertes et silencieuses, et le deuil
d'une ville entiere, privee de ses habitants. Les pas de nos chevaux
e"ta,ient les seuls bruits, nos voix les seules intonations, auxquelles
1'echo endormi repondit en se reveillant du fond des tombeaux.
Partout se presentait 1'image de la desolation, ouvrage du satrape
d'Epire. Le bains publics ouverts, les portes des maisons bris^es,
des pans des murs e'croules, des rues incendie'es, et pour etres
vivants, quelques sinistres jacals, ou des chiens devenus presque
sauvages, qui, par leurs hurlements, paraissaient nous demander leur
maitre, et invoquer la pitie, voila ce qui restait de Gardiki."
Voyage de la Grece, par F. C. H. L. POUQUEVILLE, liv. iv. chap. u.
30 THE DEATH OF HAMKOS.
And drowned in their own blood be mother and child,
With old men and maids. Fire and sword ! spread
ye wild !
Yea ! fire and sword ! Be the head of the youth
From the girl's bereft arms stricken oft 7 without ruth,
And torn from the breast where yet trembling it hung,
Let the babe at the feet of its mother be flung !
Let them leave all the joys they have tasted below,
And know all the pangs of death ling'ring and slow.
Ay fire and sword! Let one grave's scattered
mould
The wreaths of the bridal and the dead bride enfold !
Fire and sword ! But what chills are these creeping
around ;
Woe ! woe ! The sun seemeth by cold vapours
drowned
From whence are these phantoms of dread which I
see ?
Ye pale, headless corpses ! what would ye with me ?
Alas ! to my bed they steal softly and slow,
And their wan ghastly heads upon me they would
throw !
Their lips are announcing a doom of dismay
Leave ! leave me ! ye brothers of Ali ! l hence !
away !
1 Besides Ali and Chainitza, their father Veli had previous to
his marriage with Khamco or Hamco, two sons and a daughter by
THE DEATH OF HAMKOS. 31
He feareth a dagger in secret upraised. 1
Beware ! in thy camp, Charon seeks thee amazed ;
They have planned they have sworn near near
they come on
Woe ! woe ! It is thy blood they thirst for, my
son!
One hath fall'n, he hath fall'n, the elder is slain,
The younger, though wounded, still struggles amain,
A forest of swords whirleth o'er him, Death !
Haste haste and mine eyes with thy cold fingers
sheath.
Pity, pity me, Death ! Not yet cometh it nigh
I see a bare yataghan waving on high ;
They have seized him, alas ! by his snows' whitened
hair,
And hurl him down pitiless sight of despair !
Stay ! stay ! but ferocious the murmur of death
Woe ! woe ! 'tis his head that now falls to the
earth.
a slave, who with their mother fell victims to the jealousy of
Khamco. Dr. Holland, p. 104 ; also Dufey, c. II. p. 26. [Resume
de 1'Histoire de la Regeneration de la Grece. Jusqu'au 1825, par
P. J. S. Dufey, 3 vols. i8mo. Paris 1825.]
1 Hamco affected to believe that his brothers were plotting
against Ali's life.
32 THE DEATH OF HAMKOS.
Revenge ! revenge ! Moucktar ! Veil ! l But behold
Whose hand is that now those heads severed doth
hold.
The earth is o'ershadow'd the Shades howl with
fear,
What monster of Hell brings these shudderings
drear
It hath flung itself o'er me I stifle Ali ! "
But Charon hath seized her fierce soul and doth flee. 2
1 A vision of coining retribution is here presented before Hamkos
in the downfall and decapitation of her son in his old age, and of
her two grandsons, Moucktar and Veli, who were beheaded by
order of the Sultan some time previously, being then in revolt
against their father. The poet brings so many events which
occurred at long intervals in such rapid succession, and gives them
so abruptly, that the translator has some difficulty in giving an in-
telligible reading.
2 Hamkos died about 1790. This and the four following poems
are arranged chronologically in reference to the events which they
narrate.
( 33 )
Ube jfliobt. 1
ARISTOTLE VALAORITES.
I.
" MY horse ! my horse ! Omer Vrioni bring here
The Souliote is on us the Souliote is near
My horse ! Dost not hear how the hot bullets pour,
And whistle around us and threaten us sore !
See'st not those demons who there on the height
Like pebbles are hurling down heads in our sight ;
Behold now the gleam as their flashing swords swing,
And over the rocks headless carcasses fling !
My horse ! my horse ! See'st thou the slain on the
ground
Those are wolves which are growling and flocking
around ;
The dark realm of death is before me, I see
The wide jaws of hell which are opening for me !
1 This poem records the panic-stricken ride of AH Pasha to
Janina by night after his memorable overthrow and the almost
complete annihilation of his forces by the Souliotes under Lambros
Tzavellas on 20th July 1792. See note, end of vol.
C
34 THE FLIGHT.
Hither Vrioni ! ] one moment then free
I am safe from their talons as onward I flee ;
My horse ! when I see that white kilt, well I know
'Tis thou Lambro Tzavell' my merciless foe !
See'st thou not ever that death follows nigh
In the face of his yataghan whirling on high ;
Well I know that one stroke from his hand at the
heart
All flutterings straight cease and all tremors depart.
My horse ! my horse quickly Vrioni bring here,
The sun it hath sunk and the dark night draws near ;
O save me ye stars ! give one ray, faithful moon !
'Tis Ali Pasha now who doth ask thee a boon."
Before him careering his good horse behold,
As black as a raven, and glitt'ring with gold
Who shows like a flame or a swift flash of light,
Of pure Arab breed in which Northmen delight.
He heareth the battle his ears at the sound
Stand erect, while the sparks from his hoofs fly around ;
With nostrils distended red gleaming and wide,
He champs the bit pawing the earth in his pride ;
1 Omer Brionus was general-in-chief to Ali. He wa a Greek by
birth, and ia stated to have served under thirty different flags
without knowing why. His name in frequently written "Vrioni."
THE FLIGHT. 35
Forward he springs from his haunches a flash
As his iron-shod hoofs cut the air as they dash
Scarce touching the ground like a meteor of light.
Shame ever such steed should be mounted for flight !
\
Brave Lambro beholds him with envying eyes,
And he biteth his lip as he secretly sighs :
" Ah barb all excelling ! hadst thou been with me,
This day I had rode to Janina on thee."
Then stricken with terror Ali Pasha flings
One hand on the mane on the shoulder upsprings ;
And quick as the lightning or bullet's swift flight,
Ali and his courser are lost in the night.
II.
They are fleeing they flee Retribution is here,
They are hunted and followed by pale ghastly fear ;
The deep swarthy night and the dark clouds alone
Their only companions escorting them on.
Through the woods leaping thousands of trenches
on high,
The spurs shedding blood-drops as onward they fly ;
Like the sea in its onflow the horse scatters foam,
Time fails whisper fears through Ali's heart that
roam.
36 THE FLIGHT.
Along while thus speeding, the waving of trees
A falling leaf rustling the murmuring breeze
A bird on the wing gazelle bounding away
A streamlet that through the gorge taketh its way :
All bringeth wan fear to Ali Pasha now
Cold, cold is the sweat that is bathing his brow ;
The horse pricks his ears, not a sound, not a sigh,
But rigid his feet, for a wolf passes by.
Ali with his fingers his saddle grips tight,
Before him Tzavella is ever in sight ;
And in phantasy drear, all around, it doth seem
That bare blades are waving with murderous gleam.
Afar floats his beard, which is white as the snow,
And hurled by the wild wind, and tost to and fro
O'er neck and o'er mouth, as in elf-locks 'tis cast,
It looks like pale scorpions which hunger and fast.
And like as the waves by the south wind when tost
Beneath Night's dark shadows are hidden and lost,
Yet as they roll forward, their spray mounting high
Is a glitter of light on their crests sweeping by
So thro' Night speeds Ali on his steed swift and
strong,
Like the wave in the darkness which rushes along
THE FLIGHT. 37
A wave heaving heavily, black as the shade,
Where the beard of Ali hath a white foam-streak
made.
They are fleeing they flee as a whirlwind they're
past,
But fears are assailing the good horse at last :
His knees are now trembling, they stagger beneath,
With quick throbs of agony pants he for breath.
Ali Pasha cursing, his weakness derides,
Still deeper he plungeth the spurs in his sides ;
The horse writhes in anguish, and uttering a groan,
Makes yet one bound forward then drops like a
stone.
Like the strokes of a hammer his heart's every throe.
His ears they are drooping, on earth he lies low ;
Still bravely he struggles to rise, but 'tis death !
And the blood from his nostrils is flowing beneath.
So there, where his steed in last agonies lay,
Ali stood transfixed, as the life ebbed away.
He gazeth upon him, and restless and pale,
Strains forward to listen, lest all sounds might fail.
For still he is fearing the balls of the foe ;
He clutches the pistols from his girdle below
38 THE FLIGHT.
Whilst near him his courser, lying stretched on the
ground,
Moans yet, and his hoofs tear the earth' sods around.
With noise so distressful in vain would he hear
If those demons are still in pursuit, or are near.
Ali Pasha foams now a spark, then a flash,
And straight to that heart's depths the two bullets
crash.
Convulsed as appeareth a spectre of dread
The horse gives one groan one last groan and is
dead :
His eyes roll no longer with fiery glare,
But misty and dim on the high heavens stare.
in.
He heareth the footfalls, the shouts of a host !
Have the shots from his pistols betrayed him and
lost!
Yet nearer, congealed is the blood in each vein,
He plucks at the dead horse to raise him again !
His arms he reloadeth one quivering hand
Is groping down softly to grasp his good brand.
He heareth his name, " Hither, Vizir Ali."
And as tapers consume so his courage doth flee.
THE FLIGHT. 39
Again there are voices, and each time he hears
That the tumult approacheth more near still it
nears ;
With eyes wide distended, with spirit affrayed,
" Help, Omer Yrioni, help ! " shouts he dismayed.
Ali Pasha thus pursued hotly and fast,
Like a dying man enters Janina at last ; x
But as long as he liveth, full oft 'fore his eyes
The white fustanella 2 of Lambro will rise.
1 Ali Pasha, through chagrin, did not leave his house for a fortnight
after his arrival in Janina, and forbade the inhabitants to look out
from either door or window, in order that they might not learn the
terrible disaster which had befallen him.
2 The " fustanella," which I generally translate by " kilt," varies
considerably in different districts. In some parts, as at Megara, it
is of an ordinary fulness, but the majority still shows an enormous
width. It is made of white cotton in small gort^s sloped from two
or three inches to seven or eight at the base. The base of the one
measured was seventeen yards! The "fustanella" will soon be
obsolete.
Ikatsantones. 1
ARISTOTLE VAL.\6 RITES.
YE who ever saw him near you
On the mountain ridges high,
Partridge, 2 falcon, 3 golden eagle,
Swallows all who soaring fly,
Come and raise the song of mourning,
Raise for him the chant of woe ;
They have taken Katzantones,
Mourn ye birds in wailings low.
Traitor priest it was betrayed him !
When he takes the holy bread
Sword may it be then unto him
That shall dye his lips blood red.
1 A celebrated Klepht who conceived the idea of freeing his
country before events were ripe for it, and being betrayed, was
executed with his brother at Janina under circumstances of great
barbarity. See note on " Katzantones " at end of vol.
2 The partridge is a favourite bird with Greek poets, even em-
ployed in love-songs as a type of beauty. See Appendix.
" Les bartavelles ou perdrix Grecques sont tres nombreuses dans
toutes les montagnes;" "descendant en plaine pour faire son nid
et couver a 1'abri d'une grosse pierre." POCQUEVILLE, Voyage dans
la Grece, liv. xxi. chap. v.
3 t-f>Ttpi = vulture; can also be rendered hairk or falcon. See
Appendix Notes.
KATZANTONES. 41
'Round his neck a rope, and knotted,
Straight become the sacred stole :
Ne'er for him be found confessor
Who shall dare absolve his soul,
Ne'er for him be loving fingers
Which shall close his eyes with dole.
George Hasote, his valiant brother,
Ever watchful ward doth keep
Wakeful ever, whilst beside him
Still doth Katzantones sleep ;
For the fever flush is on him
Yea, the fever burneth high.
" Brother, wake ! upon my shoulders
I will bear thee, and will fly
Wake ! in slavery to bring us
See our foes already nigh."
" Fly, and save thyself, my brother,
Do not fret thy soul for me,
But an' if thon lov'st me truly
Ask I now this grace from thee
Cut my head from off my shoulders,
That no Arab 1 make it prey ;
Up to Agrapha then bear it,
To some chosen rock away.
1 Jousouf Arabe. He was the most bloody of all the leaders under
All, and had previously been in the service of his father Veli.
42 KATZANTONES.
Give it to the rock to wear it,
Make of it its topmost peak ;
Let it wear it for a helmet,
Hold it ever who may seek !
Come, O brother ! do it quickly
Quickly sever it, nor stay,
High that I may hence be soaring
Thither high to flee away,
Where the dark clouds have their rising,
Where the lightnings have full sway ;
When their smoke will bring remembrance,
When their flash will call to mind
My poor gun, which now an orphan
Leave I in your hands behind,
So that thou may'st love and tend it
And in it thy brother find."
George then knew this was the fever
Knew this was the fever rave,
And he flung him on his shoulder,
And he sprung from out the cave,
Bearing forth his precious burthen,
When he seeth straight in view,
Sixty fierce Albanian soldiers,
Who with eager haste pursue.
Each time they to him were nearing
Like a rampart firm he stood,
KATZANTONBS. 43
And 'fore Katzantones' body
Made defence with weapons good.
(Joy be ever to the mother
Who such hero sons have borne !)
Thus these two most valiant brothers
Were pursued until the morn
Till the daystar came forth brightly,
Which all stars then paled before ;
And when George, the brave Hasotes,
In his foot was wounded sore,
When they took them both and living
Straight unto Janina bore.
So one dawning near the Plane-tree 1
Which from one small sapling grew,
Ever broadening ever spreading
Nourished aye by blood anew,
There with heavy irons laden
Came they forth to meet their fate,
From those two grim cruel doomsters,
Their last hour to await.
Tools for thousand like achievements,
Torches, hammers, anvil there !
Scorpions from the earth out coming !
All they look on all are 'ware.
1 '0 ir\dravos was the place of execution in Janina for the "martyrs"
to Greek independence. See " Mpq/x^owa " <re\. 95 (a). It was for-
merly the custom to plant a plane-tree, platanus ccdebs, on the birth
of a male child. See Pouqueville's "Histoire de la Regeneration."
44 KATZANTONES.
George, as though he had been weeping-
Weeping for his brother dear,
Gave one glance to Katzantones,
And then dashed away the tear.
Where the brothers oft discoursing,
Where the one the other told
By the cool and pleasant fountain
All their youthful ventures bold,
All Ali Pasha's l great terrors,
Gheka's 2 zeal and fiery glow
Flashed a sword, on sudden waving,
Fell a noble head full low.
" Christ is risen, I'm o'erwhelmed,"
Katzantones loudly cried,
And a kiss a deep, deep heart-kiss
Wafted to him where he died.
'Mid the branches of the Plane-tree,
All among its leaves so fair,
As it were unto her harbour
Fled and hid his pure soul there ;
And it looked upon the brother
Whom to martyrdom they bare.
1 Ali Pasha, ordinarily brave and daring, was nevertheless subject
to great panics. See Pouqueville'u " Histoire de la Re'ge'ne'ration,"
torn. i. liv. 3.
2 Veli Gheka, an Albanian in the service of the Satrap, cele-
brated for his encounters with the Klephts.
KATZANTONES. 45
Stretched and bound upon the anvil,
Then the two smiths smote him sore
Mighty strokes which flesh and sinew,
Bone and muscle, bruised and tore ;
But he looked up into heaven,
Singing as the blows he bore.
" Smite, ye dogs, again, and hew me,
Ye have Katzantones here ;
Ali Pasha with fire and anvil
Ne'er to him shall carry fear."
Then one hour long they hewed him,
And their hands waxed faint and slack
Yea, the smiths were both awearied,
So his faithful throat they hack ;
And as on the sand outpouring
Runneth forth his blood so red,
Still they hear his song uprising,
And its words in dying said
" Smite, ye dogs, again, and hew me,
Ye have Katzantones here ;
Ali Pasha with fire and anvil
Ne'er to him shall carry fear."
Then the Plane-tree through its rootlets
Straightway sucked his blood within,
46 KATZANTONES.
Greedy, yet with understanding
Lest the earth might drink it in.
Thus there followed thence a harvest,
And it spread its branches wide
Spread them strongly, yet in quiet
Tufted foliage o'er each side,
Which Ali Pasha beholding
In his dreams at dead of night,
Shouted loud to bring the torches
Lest had come that day of light,
When the branches of the Plane-tree
Will crush the City in their might. 1
1 There is a vast and distinct difference between the mountain
heroes in revolt, who, with the priesthood, kept alive the seeds of
freedom, and those robber bands who, like the Mohammedan Alba-
nians under Ali and his father Veli and others, became rich by
inroads on peaceful inhabitants, although historically they are equally
named as Klephts. " Dans les villes maritimes le commerce grec
prosperait, mais pour les homines de 1'interieur, nulle issue que la
montagne. La montagne, ce que dans les pays organisees on appelle
le brigandage, ce que le monde officiel dans toutes les capitale*
nomine le rebellion. La montagne pour les Grecs e*tait 1'inde-
pendance, la continuation de la lutte nationale, la guerre sans merci
au conque'rant dont on n'acceptait pas le joug. Ce que s'est
tlepense' d'heroisme, de courage, d'opiniatrete' indomptable dans
les combats que, pendant des siecles les Klephtes livrerent aux
musulmans, on ne le saura jamais. Les gorges des montagnett, lc-s
rochers, et les forets ont garde le secret des spectacles dont ils ont
ete les temoins. Les chants transmis de generation en generation,
ont seuls conserve la m^moire de quelques uns. Nul n'a le droit
de laisser peVir dans le souvenir des homines le nom den ht'ros qui
ont combattu pour la patrie comme Ton fait les montagnards dc la
tlrfcce." JULIKTTE LAMBEB, Let (jrecs Contemporaiiit. Paris.
( 47 )
ARISTOTLE VALAORITES.
I.
" O PITY, gentle Christian hearts, have pity, God above
Will bring you consolation, and will keep you with
His love ;
Some tender mercy show unto a widow, lone and
poor ! "
Thus pleaded one poor woman at another's humble
door.
'' Fierce is the night and wild, I am mantled deep in
snow ;
Must I perish on your threshold ? Have compassion
on my woe,
For 1 too worship God ! Christians, pity ! in H is
name
Your kindly wicket open ! Not to eat your bread I
came
I do not ask for bread, for I have long since learnt
to fast.
The poor feel for the poor ! Oh save, lest Death may
come at last !
Give but two charcoals from your hearth, or reach me
but the light
48 THANASY VAYIA.
Which you each evening kindle, which in the lamp
each night
Burns 'fore God's holy Mother, before the Virgin high,
Pity ! a little light some light ! Ah, help me lest I
die! 1
n.
CHILD.
" Mother, awake ! dost thou not hear ? at our door
methinks some sound "
MOTHEK.
" 'Tis the wind which the boughs of the forest rends
as it groans and whistles round."
CHILD.
" Mother, I fear, as a flutt'ring bird my heart is throb-
bing fast."
MOTHER.
" It is but the wild dogs' howling thyself in my
fond arms cast."
CHILD.
" I hear loud shrieks and cries."
MOTHER.
" 'Tis a dream thou art seeing, dear !
1 For account of the infamous executant of the orders of Ali
Pasha against Gardiki, see note " Thanasy Vayia."
THANASY VAYIA. 49
Turn thee around to sleep, and make thy cross, and
cease to fear."
m.
MOTHER.
" Yes, at our door some groans I hear
As of some soul in anguish near."
Straight she doth rise, and seeketh where
Low on the earth a form was there.
Pale was the face, with tresses torn
Dishevelled o'er her shoulders borne ;
And icy cold her hands were prest,
And crossed upon her drooping breast.
" Child, come hither and give thy aid,
Real were those sounds thy spirit 'frayed.'
Then quickly in their arms they bear
The stranger who their bed shall share.
" 'Tis midnight, little darling ! rest
Near to thy mother's loving breast ;
And, stranger, sleep thou warm and well
Till dawning fair good omens tell."
50 THANASY VAYIA.
To child and mother hasteth sleep,
Their eyelids closed in slumber deep ;
But the eyes of the stranger are opening wide !
What form doth stand the bed beside ?
rv.
THE PHANTOM.
" Why comest thou, Thanasy, to me here ?
Hath Hades then no sleep ?
Why comest thou to me, a thing of fear,
Before my eyes to keep ?
I laid thee in the grave I laid thee deep,
And that is now long past ;
Have pity, Athanasius ! let me sleep,
Rest rest to find at last.
They follow me they follow where I go
Thy cruel, cruel deeds ;
All flee me none will helping pity show
For thy lone widow's needs.
Stand off! What have / done, Thanasy ? say,
That thou bring'st me this ill.
Pale art. thou, and thou reekest of the clay !
A fleshly form hast still ? l
1 6 /3/)i/KrfXocas is a phantom whose body having been excom-
municated is not able to be dissolved in the ordinary manner in the
tomb. See notes on Tharuwfa Vayiat.
THANASY VAYIA. 51
Draw near to thee thy shroud, upon thy brow
The worm doth pasture free ;
Accursed one ! Behold where even now
They fly to feed on me !
Tell me whence art thou in this tempest drear ?
Hark how the whirlwinds rave !
Tell me whence art thou, that thou seek'st me here,
And leavest thy deep grave ? "
v.
" Amid the darkness of my tomb,
As I this night was shut in gloom,
There buried low beneath the ground,
By the grave's narrow compass bound.
I suddenly hear the owl, which cries
Above " Thanasy Vayia ! rise !
Thousands of corses now prepare
To hale thee forth, and take thee there."
I hear the words, my name I hear,
My bones they chafe and snap with fear ;
I hide me from them crouch away
In my deep pit as best I may.
52 THANASY VAYIA.
" Come out, Thanasy Vayia ! lead !
Out ! to that mountain side we'll speed ;
Out ! out ! fear not ; no wolves are we
Show which Gardiki's road may be."
And when they found me, all the rout
From my tomb so lonesome drag me out,
Laughing, mocking, fiercely tear,
And as they told me thither bear.
We fly, we run, a raging blast,
The world despoiled as on we past ;
And wheresoe'er the black cloud came,
The mountains shake, the earth's aflame.
Our serecloths swelled out in the gale,
Like as if voyaging under sail ;
And all along our path, down thrown,
With hollow bones the earth was strown.
With trailing wing the owl before
Screameth " Thanasy " evermore !
Until that place was brought to view
Where this same hand so many slew.
What sight ! what horrors there unfurled !
How dire the curses on me hurled !
They gave me to drink of blood again,
Upon my lips thou canst see the stain !
THANASY VAYIA. 53
Whilst me they throng upon and haul,
They stay and listen : one doth call,
" Well met, well met, Vizir Ali !
We'll to the courtyard hence with thee."
And as the corses on him fling,
None waiting me abandoning,
In secret hasted I and fled
Hither to share my own wife's bed."
VI.
" I have heard thee, Thanasy no longer stay !
Tis the hour thou must back to thy tomb away ! "
" But in my grave for companions there
I must now from thy lips three kisses bear."
" When oil l and when earth over thee were thrown,
Thy mouth then in secret I kissed alone."
" Long years and many since they were left,
And that kiss hath the lower depths from me reft."
" Off thine eyes' wildness doth me affray,
Piece by piece falleth thy flesh away
Hence, and thy skeleton fingers hide,
For they gleam like daggers displayed wide."
1 Oil is always poured over the body at Greek funerals when
committing it to the grave. See note, end of volume.
54. THANASY VAYIA.
" Wife, come thou hither, for am I not lie
He who aforetime was loved by thee ?
Shun me not now, I'm Thanasy, thy own ; "
" Hence ! to the Pit thou would'st drag me down ! "
He growls like a wolf like a leaf he doth shake
Tis the Holy Cross which his fingers take.
Her relic hath saved the unhappy one,
In smoke from her side hath the phantom gone.
Then again without was heard screeching wide
The owl, which " Thanasy Vayia ! " cried.
vn.
' Wake, darling child, awake ! the dawn is coming
o'er the hill,
Wake ! let our hearth be kindled ; see the stranger
waits us still.
Good day unto thee, mother ; hast thou found some-
while repose ? "
" I, wretched one ! sleep little, and not once mine
eyes did close.
Farewell, farewell, good people, I must leave you and
away,
THANASY VAYIA. 55
Still onward onward moving, far off lies my out-
stretched way."
" Why didst thou not awaken us, nor lone in silence
mourn ;
Good mother, give thy blessing ere thou goest forth
this morn."
" For all the loving charity which ye to me have
shown,
May the good God sweet healing sleep for ever send
you down ;
No richer gift the whole world hath no better thing
it sees,
And day and night I seek for it, and day and night
it flees."
" Ah, mother ! sad-eyed Poverty keeps ever wakeful
lids."
" Wealth I have known, but wealth doth fail as
Time his chaplet thrids."
" We, hapless ones like hunted wolves we here
this refuge found
That day when lone Gardiki was low levelled with
the ground ;
Ah, woe is me ah, woe is me and who that mis'ry
brought ?
56 THANASY VAYIA.
"T was Thanases ! It was Vayia ! who evil foully
wrought."
" His wife am I. Good people, make your cross and
let me go,
Fetch holy incense burn it and be cleansed from
your foe ;
For he this night was with us yea, he stood beside
us here :
Dear Christians, weep for me, for my sad days and
nights of fear."
The child and mother crossed themselves, and stood
in dread dismay,
As from their cabin-door she turned and sped her
lonely way.
( 57 )
Ikleisoxm. 1
GEORGE ZALAKOSTAS.
A TURK went down to Kleisova
With flag of truce in hand,
And standing 'fore the walls he thus
Out spake his lord's command :
" Sons of the Greeks, the great Satrap
Offer of grace doth send
To yield with honours, and withal
Would treaty fair extend
If one there be who can discourse
In tongue of Turk or Gaul,
Straight let him forth for colloquy
In faith and trusting all."
1 Kleisova, an islet in the lagunes of Missolonghi, is memorable
for its heroic defence by Kitsos Tsavella with only 130 men, against
the combined forces of the Satrap of Egypt, Ibrahim, and Kiutahi
Rhesitus Bey. The writer of this ballad, George Zalakostas, was
himself with his father and brother fighting at Missolonghi, and the
poet to the end of his life devoted himself alike to the Muses and
to military affairs. His poems are chiefly the narrations of the
triumphs of the deliverers of his country, in addition to which, how.
ever, he has written some charming love lyrics.
5 8 KLEISOVA.
Then Notes 1 on the walls who stood
A scorn defiant flung,
And from his lips in irony
This biting sarcasm wrung
"We 2 speak one language, that of arms
We all that tongue well know ;
Bid your Satrap to bring his hordes
We'll meet him but as foe.
And to his bond of love, we'll place
The bullet for a seal."
Rage tore the heart of the Satrap
Though nought his looks reveal.
But opening wide his clenched hand,
Rhesites 3 signing near,
He points to Kleisova, and says,
" Would'st thou win v honour here
I'll keep the harbour with my spears,
Poros and Tolma's mine ; *
1 N<5t6s Botzares.
1 'H/is tineOa dypdfj.fj.arot, -yXa-o-o-as Sin Ifj.d0afj.ev, (fj.dOafi.ev nhvov
fa iro\ffj,ufj.ev, was the answer given from the fort of Missolonghi ;
aa also "Between Greeks and Turks the only treaty is arms," '()
ii,fTai> 'EXXfyuv nal Ibvpxuv ffv/j.t3ifiafffi.6s elvat TO. 6ir\a, also spoken
from Missolonghi some months before the attack on Kleisova.
'Iffropia TJjt 'RXMiviKi)* t'Travaffrdcreus, np. NH. TKIKOUPIS.
3 Kiutahi, Governor of Arta.
4 Isle of Poros.
KLEISOVA. 59
There stands unconquered Kleisova
This glory shall be thine."
Biting his lip Rhesites said,
" Those brilliant battles won,
Were by thyself and spearmen gained
When all the work was done
When fire had laid brave warriors low,
Like ashes strewn on ground ;
For never in dead soldiers' hands
Were flashing falchions found.
Not mortals they but demon foes,
Who those mud walls defend ;
Mayhap my men may pause ere they
With odds unseen contend.
Let be to Kleisova I'll go
If worsted in the fight ;
Thy spearmen let the Frenchmen lead,
The saved we'll count at night."
At last the destined morn arrives,
That shall the radiance shed
Of glory, and undying fame,
Around Tsavella's head.
60 KLEISOVA.
See, where the fleet in circle formed,
Comes on in thick array ;
With fire and flame in eager haste
Kleisova low to lay.
The heavy fleet of boats bows down
Beneath her guns' recoil,
Our island staggers, quivering ;
From bulwarks falls the soil.
But calm and quiet save us 'neath
That round of ceaseless fire ;
Whilst vaunting loud, Rhesites' host
Breathes hate and vengeful ire. 1
With flaming rage, and furious yells,
They strive the walls to gain ;
Four times from blood-stained flags they plant,
The waters cleanse the stain.
Forced by our ardour, back they flee
In wild disordered rout ;
Rhesites from the heights beholds
And turns his horse about.
And hotly spurring to the shore,
He bars the vessels' ways
And grasping climbs the foremost prow,
And thus their landing stays.
1 There was great jealousy between the Satrap and Kiutahi.
KLEISOVA. 6 1
" Whom flee ye now, Turks ? " he cries ;
" Shame, shame upon you fall ;
There's not one hundred men down there
Enclosed by yon mud wall ! "
The boats' prows turn again, the Turks
The stubborn fight renew ;
The many slain are like a pall
O'er those the first shots slew.
Like lightning' flashes, quick we fire,
Our shots the shore pile high ;
When whizzing one blest bullet wounds
The Vizir in the thigh.
Then follows flight more shameful still,
Headlong the boats they seek !
Ha ! how full oft the flying balls,
Those fleeing knees made weak !
Whilst unto God we sing our lauds,
Pale with wan terrors they :
And thousands dead Rhesites leaves
In wet beds laid this day.
Mehemet's son upon the shore,
Mid legions, mocking said
" The demons conquered thee, let's see
What verve our spears have bred."
62 KLEISOVA.
Casting a burning glance to Heav'n,
He cried, " If God thou art "
But straight the blasphemy he stayed,
And hid it in his heart.
Quick the well-trained Egyptian host
Swarmed o'er the vessels' sides ;
Not tumult-rife Albanians these,
Nor curbless Asian tribes.
The trumpets bray their thousand blasts,
The clashing cymbals clang ;
Barbarian myriads from the shore
On swimming horses sprang.
With slender spear and measured tread
On come they after each
O'er phalanx dead, as wave on wave
Sweeps o'er the wild sea beach.
Terrific strife ! Egyptian hosts,
Aye ever coming on ;
But Kleisova's unwearied swords
To the waters sweep them down.
Death with his chilling breath of fear
Full oft their lines disbands,
But courage ever bred anew
Bears back the wavering bands.
KLEISOVA. 63
'Tis the third hour of struggle waged,
Three hours of murderous roar ;
But now will swords alone engage,
For powder is no more.
Striking his brows the fierce Satrap
Bids them his banner bear ;
And leaves the tents, for onslaught new
The brazen trumpets blare
The trumpets blare, with measured tread
The prompt battalions pour ;
The waves they murmur 'neath their march,
The wind gives back their roar.
Straight as one breast the many form,
And flaming torches hold ;
It seems the day of Doom hath come
To those that scene behold.
From the mud walls of Kleisova
A bloody streak appears
Th' Egyptians' lines are falling down,
As fall the ripe wheat ears.
All 'round there surges deadlier strife,
With hate and stubborn will,
Those Arabs, or the scorching balls
Or cleaving falchions kill.
64 KLEISOVA.
Tsavella then with mighty shout
Crieth, " From walls why fight !
Forward ! let swords this contest end.
Forward ! on earth alight."
Quick from the walls we spring with zeal
Quick flows the Arab blood ;
Trembling they cast away their spears,
Fast flees the scatter'd brood.
No order now in tumult wild
Fast do the leaders flee ;
Most need no flight, for dyed red
Their graves lie in the sea.
A blood-stained scene of woe beholds
That setting sun awhile ;
But the struggle ended gloriously
For our poor barren isle.
llhesites leaves his thousands dead,
The Satrap some thousands clear.
And thirty heroes we laid in earth
The holy church l anear.
1 TTJJ A-ytos TptdSos, Holy Trinity.
See note on Kleisova, end of volume.
Rhesites was most desirous to strike a decisive blow, as the Sultan
had told him, " Missolonghi, or your head," f) rb 'MtcroXoyyt fy TTJV
Kf<t>a.\r)i> ffov. TiUKOUPis, 'loropia, Kt<f>. NH.
3obn Oalatos.
ALEXANDER SOCTSOS.
From Tovpxo/J.dxov 'EXXdSa.
JOHN GALATOS his one sole child,
A little maid scarce seven years old,
Followed him down the hillside wild,
Fleeing a soldiery fierce and bold.
Poor Katerina, clothed with grace,
Fair as the cold moon's pallid face !
" Father ! Father ! " her shrill tones rung.
John Galatos still onward fled
From rock to rock, o'er chasms sprung,
Nor stayed his feet nor turned his head.
From rock to rock, o'er chasms deep,
The Turks behind, th' abyss below,
With one strong bound, one desperate leap,
John Galatos is safe from foe.
The helpless wife, for death, remains,
His child for slavery and chains.
He fleeth to another shore.
His heart is wrung through eight long years :
E
66 JOHN GALATOS.
11 Child ! child ! " he crieth, " Evermore
Thy young voice thrilleth in my ears."
Across the Asian deserts bare,
To Mulasa in Karia's plain,
With one strong hope 'mid gnawing care
The old man seeks his child again,
Where on the hills the maiden spends
Days weary, while the goats she tends.
" The wretched girl had changed her creed
To please her Turkish lord," they said ;
" And loss of reason was the meed
Divine chastisement on her laid."
She stood upon the height, and bent
Her gaze upon the depths below ;
Her wand'ring eyes no brightness lent
When turning whence that cry of woe
" My Katerina, it is I,
My child ! " " My child ! " the rocks reply.
The girl with deaf ears heard his prayer ;
As goldilocks, 1 in fading stoop,
Two lengthy plaits of yellow hair 2
Adown her pallid shoulders droop.
1 Literally cotton-weed, Helichrysum, which is found growing
frequently on the sea-shore, and has always a tendency to droop.
2 The frequent mention of golden hair in the Greek poets need
not appear strange. The old traditions consider the true Greek
JOHN GALATOS. 67
Unmoved she stood, nor heart-glow knew,
The stones not colder 'neath her feet ;
No meaning from his words outgrew,
No quickened sense his pleadings greet.
But to the unpitying Heav'n fair
She looked, and sang her plaintive air
" The cruel Turks they followed fast,
My holy chrism from me tore.
The heavenly gates are barred at last,
Alas ! I am not Christian more."
" Ah, thrice unhappy ! sing not so,
Strong shudderings wring my wretched frame ;
I am thine only cause of woe
I, who now boast the father's name ! "
He beat his breast, his hands he wrung,
She looked upon him, and still sung
" The cruel Turks who followed fast,
My holy chrism from me tore.
The heavenly gates are barred at last,
Alas ! I am not Christian more."
" My daughter ! can'st not pity yet ? "
The old man pleadeth through his tears.
race as an auburn -haired race, and there are many fair-haired
heroes in Homer. I have myself seen many light-haired, auburn,
and even red-haired peasants.
68 JOHN GALATOS.
" I am thy father dost forget ?
Hath Time so changed me with the years ?
Alas ! not Time, but Griefs strong flow
Hath worn these furrows on my brow.
I lost thee a mere babe again
Thou com'st to me in woman's grace.
O bless'd old age ! my long heart-strain
Breaks into joy at thy dear face."
Then from her eyes two sudden streams
Of tears like fiery fountains shine ;
A thrill of passion through her gleams,
She makes the last and holy sign,
Then o'er the abyss herself she flings,
And through the air her wild song rings-
"The cruel Turks who followed fast,
My holy chrism from me tore.
The heavenly gates are barred at last,
Alas ! I am not Christian more."
" She tore herself from my caress,"
John Galatos cried, " she shunned my face ;
She feared yon yawning chasm less
Than her cursed father's fond embrace.
Twice she would no pity show,
Twice she spurn'd me, nor would know.
JOHN GALATOS. 69
O Heav'n ! on me on me outpour
All all thy wrath and vengeance dread.
Flash lightnings loud ye thunders roar
On this thrice doomed and wretched head."
ur (Brantmtotber's
KosTEa PALAMAS.
" THAT thou art daughter mine, in sooth thyself
must show this day."
Thus spake my father. " Through thy breast / ml/
no terrors stray
When with a pistol in thy hand I bid thee stand
me near,
Nor 'rnid the firing lest a bullet strike thee shrink
with fear."
So saying, 'round my neck he hung the holy wood of
grace :
Like ruddy apples on the tree so flushed with red
my face,
1 In the summer of 1881 there were borne through the streets of
Athens the remains of an aged woman, in the complete costume of
a Pallikar, which dress she had worn during the terrible days of
Missolonghi, and had treasured in secret since those times. When
upon her death-bed, she referred her relatives to a chest which con-
tained the long-cherished clothes, dear from the memories which
clung to them, and requested with her dying breath that she might
be buried in them. This fact, recorded in the daily papers of that
year, is evidently embodied in the poem from whence this extract
is taken.
OUR GRANDMOTHER'S GIRLHOOD. 71
As rough capote and goodly vest he clothed me
with straightway,
When fustanella white as snow hid maiden robes
away,
And when beneath the manly garb and fierce dis-
play of war
I from a tender shamefast girl became a Pallikar.
He willed me at the cannon' side ever to stand him
nigh,
With water to refresh his lips as oft as parched or dry,
To swell my cheeks that o'er his brow a breath of air
might play,
And from his ever-dreaded blade to wash the blood
away.
" Cosmetic 1 none, nor golden coins but powder and
ball I hold,"
And hear from all " the daughter this of our Philios
bold ! "
There lay before us in the field th' unnumbered
Turkish host.
Brave were our bands and true and well worthy this
our boast,
i Cosmetic = <j>Kiaffi5i, was a rather coarse kind of rouge which
appears to have been in use among the Greek as well as Turkish
girls many years since. The golden coins <t>\up<A were the many
strings of florins worn around the neck as an ornament about the
same time the florin being a coin much in use before the Greek
revolution.
72 OUR GRANDMOTHER'S GIRLHOOD.
With them my father's knowledge my father's
veteran skill ;
And hither came his daughter night and day with
fearless will,
Hasting amid this warring crowd, through all this
raging flood,
Which from the deadly conflict fresh, was drunken as
with blood.
Honour to those young warriors to all those patriots
true,
And the strangers, those brave Suliots, staunch
Pallikars all through,
And mid the firing foremost aye ; and ever, I aver,
Though oft in camp ill disciplined and turbulent they
were,
Yet never, never, once from them were girl or damsel
near
Came word that was not fitting for a modest maiden's
ear.
But Life and Honour both for me with all their
blessings lay
One in my fustanella, one in the cross of grace that
day.
Brave Philios' daughter learnt she was his very child
in sooth !
Dear children they who knew me in those days will
vouch this truth
OUR GRANDMOTHER'S GIRLHOOD. 73
A girl with every youthful charm, trembling like leaf
on bough,
Took a fresh life beneath the cross and seemed trans-
formed now.
Where maiden weapons 1 on her breast once rung with
silver sound,
Now silver ring the manly arms, her kindling heart's
rebound.
As though the white kilt that she wore had charmed
her with strange pow'r,
Soon as she donned it girl was she no longer from
that hour !
Nor think ye that I idly stood with calmly folded
hands,
Where all my valiant brethren strove for life with
flashing brands,
Where flew the flame wing'd bird of death the ever
murderous shell,
Where onslaught fierce woke suddenly with ever
murderous yell.
As like a falcon swift I fly, what dreadful scenes are
those
The paths I speed disclose.
There with their closed teeth firmly set, and hungering
as for blood,
1 * ApfjuiTa. See note to Drosines' Folk Song, " The Magic of Love."
74 OUR GRANDMOTHER'S GIRLHOOD.
The beardless striplings of the war in line awaiting
stood ;
Each eye upon a gun though fixed, kindled with lively
glow,
Nor turned aside to gaze on me as I went to and fro.
The only eyes, alas ! alas ! that looked upon me
there,
Were dimm'd and agonis'd and pain'd, fill'd with a
sad despair
The eyes of those whose pour'd-out blood flow'd round
them for their bed,
Who with clench'd teeth yet strove to keep the life
which slowly fled.
Such memories not here nor now can I recall at will,
Save with a shuddering thrill.
How was it then, and with what heart, bore I, O God,
that life,
With the horrors of that strife ?
Maybe it was our dire despair, the manly kilt maybe,
That thus so fortified my soul, and bade pale pity flee.
Dear children, learning, knowledge all, was judged
in days of yore
For men alone befitting ; books with all their treasured
lore
OUR GRANDMOTHER'S GIRLHOOD. 75
Were not for maidens' good, said they, they learnt
not by the book,
Lest on the written words of love their eyes might
chance to look !
But Misery was the one school now in which we both
were taught
There learnt we the same lesson, and from out one
book well-fraught
With teachings wherein other learning faded quite
before
Our bitter slavery 'neath the Turk, and its debase-
ment sore ;
For male and female equal both, and teachers every-
where,
For great and small, for young and old, around us,
here or there,
Or in the mother's lullaby, or in the grandam's
curse,
Or in the father's blessing, or the maiden's fears, or
worse
In old wives' fables village tales in every game or
At all our maimed festivals enslaved memories stay.
For ages we had heard the fiery alphabet of death,
And the Turks and demons both we exorcised in one
breath.
And as the damsels for the dance would range them
in a row,
76 OUR GRANDMOTHER'S GIRLHOOD.
Like unto this the murmured song which would in
chorus flow
" Sooner may I behold the earth with my life-blood
dyed red,
Than e'er upon my eyelids should a Turk his kisses
shed."
One day as I across the hill to seek my father
went,
A dread and awful blast on high the heavens
resounding rent ;
And suddenly the mighty hosts innumerable out-
pour
For onslaught and for ruin spreading wide along
the shore.
Ne'er had I heard a shout like that which tore the
wounded air,
" The Turks ! the Turks are coming on our camp,
prepare, prepare."
From height to height upon the wing the guns their
lightning sped,
The crimson waters of the trench, the putrefying
dead,
Are thrown up intermingled with the thousands
newly slain,
Their battalion in the marauders' midst is hurled
back again.
OUR GRANDMOTHER'S GIRLHOOD. 77
The deadly bullets as they fly, hiss as they cleave the
air,
As though it were in mocking jest of those they
slaughter there.
One fleeting moment I was stone, and then, with
strong rebound,
I woke again, fresh courage took, and through the
tempest bound ;
And like a swift-wing'd frighten'd bird, with terror
at the strife,
I seek my nest, I seek again my father, my dear
life.
At the Great Gun I saw him from a distance as
I sped,
With tall and stalwart form upreared, and bare, un-
covered head.
The Captain of the Pallikars, his swift glance fixed
beneath ;
Around him are the showering sparks, beyond the
fires of death.
Above his cannon towering high, holding his torch
he stands,
That cannon he had lifted and had placed with his
own hands.
78 OUR GRANDMOTHER'S GIRLHOOD.
A wide breach had been opened and our camp was
being scaled,
The crimson flag with its one star upon the wall was
nailed,
When promptly on the moment his loud cannon he
uprears
As his own column wavering falls back with sudden
fears
" The demons are upon us, we are slain,
Lord Christ, help us yet again ! "
My father swift but quietly as a mother doth arise
To lay her babe i' the downy cot where unawaked it
lies,
So with both hands embracing what iron hands
were those
Which the strong cannon pose !
Then one good aim, one dread report, and to the
Shades below,
Together with their banner, he despatched the
murderous foe,
Hurling them backward from the breach, and as the
routed fly,
A mocking laugh rose high.
While laugh and scoff, re-echoing, were ringing far
and wide,
OUR GRANDMOTHER'S GIRLHOOD. 79
I softly whispered " Father," as I stood by his dear
side.
He looked on me with kindling gaze one hand his
torch still grasped.
And with his left, one moment more, his child he
fondly clasped.
In the one hand there was death in the other was
his life,
And near him was a fair-haired youth a nursling of
the strife,
On me who gazed : loose streaming o'er my shoulders
fell my hair,
My stout belt all unclasped fall'n down, left my white
bosom bare !
He bent him o'er his gun again mine eyes with
shame downcast :
That youth became well, children, well your
grandsire dear at last.
I love thee ! dear garb ! in thee shine forth those
days of old
Honour and glory in the vest, and its cordons bright
of gold,
Capote and fustanella, and bullets for battles'
whirl,
The aged woman loves you with the ardour of the
girl !
8o OUR GRANDMOTHER'S GIRLHOOD.
No, when the crowns of marriage l they were placing
on my brow,
Such joy not even then I knew, nor such delight as
now,
When I behold them all spread out, again before me
laid ;
For I ne'er won such triumphs as a fair and black-
eyed maid
With charms long fled, as then I won when under
your control ;
With you with you awoke the inmost feelings of
my soul.
He loved me him I loved full well I found my
husband true ;
And from drear slavery's pangs was saved through
him alone and you.
That night my fatherland was lost, my father,
wounded, died ;
With you I fled unto the hills half dead heart-
broke beside ;
For through my fair-haired soldier and the love that
cloth'd me o'er,
My body was not given as a morsel for the ]\loor. 2
1 The floral crowns worn by bride and bridegroom are alternately
placed on the brows of each.
2 Jousouf.
OUR GRANDMOTHER'S GIRLHOOD. 81
And now when drawing near I see the hour when I
must die,
Bring forth again the raiment loved, that I may see
it nigh.
For Charon will not seem to me so cruel and un-
just,
If in those garments I with them resolved be to
dust.
The determination of the heroic defenders of Missolonghi never
swerved. At the last moment a message had been sent demanding
surrender. The answer was, " 'Kirodvfi<rKO[j.fv, dXXd. 6ev irpocrKwovfiev "
We can die, but will not submit. 'laropla TT?S 'ETrapaoTdo-ews Kf<p.
NH.
The following is one of the many popular songs upon the fall of
Missolonghi :
" Iloi6s & v' a-KODGT) K\d(j./na.Ta, yvvaiica /nvpo\6yia
AiaSar dwb TO Kdpa\o, KI diro TO M.effo\6yyi
K'&cei v'd.KovffT K\dfj./j.a.Ta, dvSpiKia /Mvpo\6yia
IIcDs /cXatv' /jiawdSes yia Traidid, Kal TO, iraiSia yia [tdwais.
Aev K\awe yia TO <TKOTOfj.b, irov Bk va. ffKOTiadovve
M6v' KXcuvf yia TO <rK\a/3w/i6, irov 6f va aK\aj3d}0ovve."
He who would listen to lamentations and the wailing of women,
let him go to Karolo and Missolonghi : there will he hear mourning
and loud myriologies mothers weeping for their children, children
for their mothers. They weep not for the slaughter of those who
are slain they weep for the slavery of those who are made slaves.
'Avdo\oyla virb N. MtKoXoirovXoi;. 2eX 118.
TTbe TCocfe ant> tbe
ARISTOTLE VALAORITKS.
" FALL back, thou Rock, and let me pass ! " thus spake
ih' embolden'd Wave
To the crag by the hollow shore which the strong
and lashing waters lave.
" Fall back, against my breast thou'st lain long while
full hard and cold,
Whilst the north wind nestled in thee and the fierce
wild tempest rolled.
Light sands are not the arms I bear, nor empty hollow
moans,
But a stream with blood bestained red which hath
broadened with my groans !
The curse of the world is with me, the world which
'pressed me sore
1 This poem, called an allegory by the poet, was written for, and
dedicated to, the political guild at Corfu, named the Regeneration,
'H 'AwytWijcris, in 1863, in order to celebrate the 42d anniversary
of the day of the Rising, March 25, 1821. In it are expressed all
those hopes and beliefs in his country's future greatness which are
the leading features in the writings of Vala6rites.
THE ROCK AND THE WAVE. 83
The world which crieth now to thee : ' Fall, rock
thy day is o'er.'
I came to thee in silence creeping trembling and
afraid
A slave ! but at thy feet I dug, and deadly hollows
made.
Thou looked'st on me with mocking scorn, in jest
thou bad'st the world
Laugh at the frothy foam by light winds tossed aloft
and whirled ;
But where I seemed to kiss thee, there in secret
night and day,
I ate into thy body, and I gnawed thy flesh away.
The deep wound which I opened, and the lake cut
by my hands,
I covered them with sea- weed, and I hid them in the
sands.
Bend down and see thy roots that once struck deep
below the sea,
Thou'rt but a hollow pebble, and 'tis I who've wasted
thee. ^
Fall back, thou Rock, and let me pass, the feet of
thy poor slave
Shall tread upon thy neck I wake as a lion from
my grave."
The Rock in stupor sleepeth on, whilst hidden there
it seems
F*
84 THE ROCK AND THE WAVE.
As 'twere the winding sheet of Death which through
the cold mist gleams.
The pale moon casts her half-quenched rays upon his
wrinkled brow,
And shows the jagged rents. The curse of ages
sweepeth now
Across his dreams, while dismal shapes within the
whirlwind meet,
And flapping wings of birds unclean who Death's
foul odours greet.
A thousand times the Bock had heard the murmur
of the Wave,
A thousand times had heard unmoved the fearful
threats she gave ;
But now, to-day arousing, he doth shudder while he
pleads
" What would'st thou, Wave, from me ? why dost
thou threaten, what thy needs ?
Who art thou that thus darest ? who instead of cool-
ing streams
Instead of song from ripplings sweet to lull me in
my dreams,
Dost stand erect before me, crowned with foam and
rearing high
Who, and whate'er thou art learn this not easily
I die ! "
THE ROCK AND THE WAVE. 85
" Rock ! 'tis Revenge ! the cup the Ages made me
drink was scorn,
The dregs were bitter, but I grew beneath the
anguish borne :
Once I was but a tear, look on me now, behold and
see
An Ocean have I grown into, fall down and worship
me.
That is not drifting weed thou see'st wide spreading
o'er my breast,
But hosts of living souls, and strong in angry just
unrest
The curses of the Hell thou didst create, awake thee
now.
Thou mad'st of me a grave, and thy burthens weighed
me low,
Thou dravest me to other shores ; my tears and my
soul's strife
Were but a scoff, whilst alms and doles were poison-
ing my heart's life.
Fall back, thou Bock, and let me pass my quiet calm
onflow
Shall swallow thee and pass along /, thy remorse-
less foe"
The Rock was mute the Wave arose in wrath and
swept along
86 THE ROCK AND THE WAVE.
The hollowed Bock gives way, engulfed within the
current strong.
It is lost in the Abyss. For awhile the angered sea
Rages above, but soon in peace roams onward broad
and free.
And where a wall of stone once stood there now a
harmless wave
Sporteth in playful rippling above the hard Rock's
grave.
IDYLLS AND ODES.
Slave,
AKISTOTLE VALAOBITES.
OPEN wide your pinions
Faithful, tender dove,
And to the far-off battle-field
Haste thee hence for love.
The way is long before thee,
And thou must fly alone;
Spread spread thy plumed winglets,
And speed thee speed thee on.
And when thou go'st through cloudland,
As thou dost cleave the air,
And comest where the lightnings
Are sitting brooding there
Ah ! then, dear dove, bethink thee,
Or burnt may be the thread
Which ties the words I've written ;
Would then that I were dead !
And when thou see'st the billows
With foamy crest uprear,
90 THE SLAVE.
Upon the far shore dashing
As though to bring it fear
Bird, do not thou then linger,
Nor near the breakers stay,
For those deceiving waters
Would wash my words away.
The waves are ever pitiless
For water thirsting still,
And they would rise above thee
To drink their greedy fill
Of the tears which now are standing
On the letter thou dost bear :
Ah ! may I die ! if he see not
The words I've written there.
And if, along thy pathway
Through ether far away
O faithful dovelet of my heart !
Upon some fair spring day
The sad and joyless swallows
It chanceth thee to meet,
Give them this kiss in loving,
And their dear coming greet ;
And tell them my heart' sorrow,
And how in piteous truth,
THE SLA VE. 91
In the harem of a Moslem
Doth fade and pale my youth ;
And bid them near my window
Not to forget to rest,
But straightway come, and near me
Build up one little nest.
But if, when thou shalt meet them,
Thou findest them dismay'd,
Pursued of churlish winter,
And sadden'd and afraid ;
Remember, dove, thy pinions
To preen again with care,
And lift thy wings before thee
Like a boat' sails spreading fair.
While thus ye voyage together,
Thou shalt in whispers low
Confide to them each secret
That weights thy heart with woe.
Those swallows, dove, remember
To tell them as ye fly,
That two long years are number'd
In slavery whilst I lie.
And there, when first arriving,
In their first tumult gay,
92 THE SLA VE.
Bid them beseech my brothers
To bear me hence away ;
And ever in the dawning
Remind them in their song,
How, in this land of Turkey,
I'm weary, waiting long.
But thou, my dovelet, speeding,
Still onward, onward fly,
To where the Klephts are holding
Agrapha's l mountain high ;
And seek my Life my Lambro,
My love who aye shall be,
And give this kiss in secret,
With these fond words from me.
And pray him with this greeting,
That I be ne'er forsook,
For I am fresh and lovely
As the waters of the brook ;
And say how I'm endangered,
How tyrannised my state,
But say that for a glance of mine
How thousands still await.
And if he of my girlhood
Some mem'ry yet doth keep,
1 The stronghold of the Klephts.
THE SLA VE. 93
If sometimes while lie dreameth
He sees me in his sleep,
Oh bid him hasten hither,
And high his falchion wave
For poor Arety trembleth,
And liveth, still a slave.
If some had pluck'd his violets,
And their sweet scent inhaled,
If they'd breathed upon my roses,
And they had drooped and paled
Less sorrow had it brought me,
Nor had he made such moan ;
Ah, youth, soon, soon it withers
In slavery drear and lone !
( 94 )
Bell. (TO SHMANTPON.I)
ARISTOTLE VALAOIUTES.
BLOW ! blow ! north wind, blow !
And filled sails speed ;
Blow ! blow ! Upon my oars
My hands they bleed,
My fingers scorch,
The row-locks burn beneath.
Parched are my lips,
And spent my fainting breath.
1 The word " ^rmavrpov " would be more correct!}' rendered by
" signal " rather than " bell," but the former word would not convey
to the mind the meaning required. The "2-ti/j.a.vrpoii " is merely a flat
slab of wood, and is struck by iron or wooden hammers. It was
substituted for the Kuduv the proper metallic bell, after the con-
quest of Constantinople by the Turks ; because the KwSwv was
considered to be expressive of insolence, "nimiam securitatem," as
Angelo Roccha in his commentary upon bells expresses it. The
first "2,-rin.a.vTpov is stated to have been made from fragments of the
great bell of St. Irene, when it was broken up. The first KwSuv
had been a present from Burgundy to the Byzantine Emperor, A.n.
872, after which its use became general all over Greece. Durant
quaintly shows the dislike to bells to be shared equally by Turks,
and demons. See Appendix Notes.
THE BELL. 95
Other water have I none, sea, but thine
With thine I wet my mouth, but bitter is thy brine.
A sea which hath no wave,
On the shore to burst,
Seemeth like two sweet eyes
For tears athirst.
Or a throbless heart,
Or hopes which ever lose,
Nights with no dawn,
Nor rain of fresh'ning dews.
Love without dreaming, Pindus void of snows,
Or wingless bird, or nightingale which ever songless
goes.
Blow ! blow ! and to my love
Bear me once more ;
She is ill lest she should die
Doth fret me sore ;
Can a cloud be lost
E'er hath been lost a wave,
To a heart that loves
Could the world become a grave !
Ye are mute ye scarcely breathe hills ! valleys
dear !
Good wind ! north wind ! have pity my father, O
north wind, hear !
96 THE BELL.
Lingering with me last night
The beach along,
My mother clasped my head
With feeling strong,
Sweet was the kiss
She gave me as she blest,
And bade me soon
Come back to her lone breast ;
O wind ! north wind ! my mother for me doth sigh :
She is old, if she see me not, alas ! she will surely
die.
Once more his wearied trembling hands he moistens,
once again
They grasp the oars which strike upon and beat the
sullen main.
'T would seem as though the sorrows which his hapless
bosom steep,
Lift up the sailor's oars on high and plunge them in
the deep.
The north wind listens not to him, neither the dark
sea-wave,
And still the stretched-out ocean lies like marble o'er
a grave.
The sailor looketh on his boat which rests on her sea-
bed
Like to a pleasant dream which oft o'er tranquil
sleep is shed ;
THE BELL. 97
Nor dares he stir, nor dareth he to sleep lest chance
it may
That her shadow make the sails its wings, and flee
yea, fly away.
Beautiful was the widowed Night a widow though
newly wed,
AVho longeth for her beloved one by Fate returning
led.
How many are th' enamoured eyes which her afresh
behold,
And she remaineth all unmoved, with hands which
clasping fold.
The Heaven for her adorning his myriad stars doth
bring,
And unto her he holdeth out the moonbeams for a
ring:
He offers her a thousand clouds, he offers flow'rs
and dews,
And she remaineth silent still, nor once the heaven
views.
The plane-tree his green glorious boughs before her
spreadeth wide,
And the hands of the deep black cypress stretch forth
unto her side,
As though they were desiring the lovely Night
t' embrace,
G
98 THE BELL.
And longing with their fingers her dark hair to inter-
lace.
And she remaineth silent still, she looketh for the sun
The golden sun so wholly fair, who love for her hath
none.
She turns her eyes unto the hills to the woods and
to the shore,
To see if that bright shining one will not return once
more.
And yonder on the sea instead, the black-eyed
nymph sees now
The sailor who is mourning lonely sitting on the
prow.
No longer lifteth he the oars ; his boat moves not,
whilst he,
Turning away, awaiteth mute the hand of Destiny.
Often, full oft adown his face the tears which rolling
flow
One after other fall upon the lifeless sea below
Those tears the dark deep swalloweth ; but should a
tempest come,
And shake with strength the sleeping wave, whit'ning
the shores with foam,
Who knoweth where those tears will fall, who knows
but where she stands
THE BELL. 99
The mother, waiting his return will find them on the
sands.
The Night beholds him 'plaining, and she openeth
her wings,
And then around him silently her peaceful arms she
flings ;
She softly clasps him unto her, and raineth on him
dews,
And wipeth off with fingers light the tears his eyes
suffuse.
His youth's fond dreams she layeth as a pillow for his
head,
And secret balmy breathing hopes she streweth for
his bed.
Then as he sinks in slumber sweet her lips they
softly stoop,
And kisses lay upon his lids which yet half open
droop
And quiver as the dove's soft wings that tremble o'er
her breast,
When secretly she spreadeth them to brood upon her
nest.
And thereupon the sailor dreams that his own love
draws near,
Who comes to seek him, bringing him a kiss, and
finds him here ;
ioo THE BELL.
And he smileth sweetly in his sleep, as doth the
suckling smile,
Believing that its mother's breast its lips still press
the while.
The Night that smile beholding, deep joy her heart
possessed,
And she took it for adorning, and wore it on her
breast ;
And then she rose up silently, nor would she break
his rest,
But gracefully she moves away to hide her in the
West.
And still at every step she takes she turneth back
her head,
To look upon the sailor whom she leaves in that lone
bed.
And thus at last the dawning breaks, when through
the woods are heard
The chanting of the shepherds, and the chirping of
the bird ;
The husbandman l his two good oxen yoketh with all
speed,
1 Mons. Pouqueville, in his "Voyage de la Grece," gives a similar
picture, with one exception, " Au point du jour le paysan grec prund
son hoyau, fait le signe de la croix ; et chargeant ses instruments
aratoires sur les epaules de sa femme, preced^ de BCS Ixrufs, il se
rend au champ," Liv. iv. chap. vii. It would seem now that the
seed-bag, &c., are carried upon the shoulders best calculated to bear
THE BELL. 101
And with the goad just pricking them, straight to
his field doth lead,
He cries " Come, Bee ; come, Beauty," and laden
with his plow,
With his seed-store on his shoulders, thrice happy is
he now !
The herdsman much rejoicing like a gazelle doth
spring,
Casteth a morsel to his dog, and forth his flock doth
bring.
Deep drinking of the foaming milk, wherewith his
cup he fills,
He bids his sheep to follow him, and goeth to the
hills. 1
Then waking to the heavens high the starling flies
away, 2
That it may meet in gladsomeness the morn's first
op'ning ray.
them, from the general demeanour of the women, as seen by a
recent visitor among rustic scenes. " All the faces are bright, songs
and laiighter resound everywhere, and above all rise the shrill
exhortations and reprimands of the women to disobedient or tired
oxen, every one of whom has its own name (as in the poem), derived
generally from its colour. Hence the appellations often sound
strange, as " Hey, Black Eyes ; " " Go within, White Lips ; "
" Here, Dove," &c. 'AypbriKai tirlcrToXai virb reopyiov Apocrivr).
1 Nothing ever appealed more to my feelings than the picturesque
scene of these dark-browed shepherds preceding their numerous
flocks over the hills, and cheering them on with voice and gesture.
2 " Innumerable flocks of starlings arrive in Greece in April."
POUQUEVILLE, Voyage de La Grtce.
102 THE BELL.
The doleful mother waketh too, who prays her son's
return,
And calling on Our Lady's name, doth to the ingle
turn ;
With withered fingers wipes away the tear-drops
from her eyes,
And lights again the quenched fire : anew the sparks
arise.
And the world recalled to busy life waketh to care
again
Sorrow and Hope together wake joy, poverty, and
pain.
And 'mid this fresh tumultuous life which o'er all
Nature breaks,
The wave of the shore awaketh, and the little vessel
takes ;
The currents draw it on and on, whilst for one
moment more
A strong wind bloweth lustily to waft it to the shore ;
And still the sailor sleeping lies as the bark is skim-
ming on,
As though some secret mystic hand were urging it
along.
A bell through the silence boometh, it sounds a
funereal knell,
THE BELL. 103
" Clang ! clang ! what meaning hath it whose death
hath it come to tell ?
The Valley it doth re-echo it clang! clang! it moans
again,
And the wind that is carrying it hath fear for that
sorrowful refrain.
Spell-bound the boat stays motionless, her sails flap
with unrest,
Her masts are creaking, and her cords hang quiver-
ing on her breast ;
The stream stirs not, as though 'twere changed to
marble it doth lie,
And still clang ! clang ! booms the passing bell who
hath now come to die !
The heart of the sailor lying there is troubled in his
sleep,
The whilst before him in a dream bright hopes and
gladness sweep ;
His lids are wide distended wildly his eyes they
roll:
What tones were those he seemed to hear that with
tremor fill his soul ?
But hushed is the bell in silence now, all still none
other sound
None other than his own heart-throbs, which beat
with strong rebound.
104 THE BELL.
Was it a cruel dream, and flown as a bird away dotli
%;
Or did he shiver in the chill of a zephyr passing by.
Which from the mouth of the dawning came and
ere 't would wake him there,
Had softly breathed in sportiveness among his auburn
hair ?
Now comes the wished-for shore in view, and now
the heights appear,
And from afar the village-cots are showing white and
clear.
The sailor with a clutching hand graspeth his oars
anew,
And swiftly again they are gliding his manly fingers
through.
The sea is cut in furrows as behind him foam-clouds
%,
Whilst he upon those village-homes doth fix a stead-
fast eye :
He gazeth on the smoke-cloud that is rising from
each roof
Thick, black, and dense he breathes again, hope
comes for his behoof;
And iii the blindness of his joy one roof he seeth
not,
From whence no smoke is issuing he uoteth not
that cot,
THE BELL. 105
The which alone is keeping its two windows closed
fast,
As if indeed the hand of Death had o'er its eyelids
past.
The sailor hath sped, hath swiftly sped, his boat hath
flown as the wind ;
But yet he believeth ever it hath slowly lagged
behind :
Deeply the oars he plungeth down, 'neath his strong
hands they bound,
They are grating within the row-locks, and the
splinters fly around.
The sailor he nothing feareth at once to his feet he
springs,
And quickly into the ocean's midst, baring himself,
he flings.
His hands and his arms are measuring the wide waters
which he beats,
And his ample chest is dispersing far the thousand
foams it meets.
The waves unto the swimmer are a hope and a delight :
As though he were a dolphin he goes through them
in his might ;
And many thousand thoughts are those that rush into
his mind,
106 THE BELL.
As though it were the last last time they could an
entrance find.
And he thinks upon his cottage home, remembering
the day
When with his mother he a youthful stripling went
that way.
They went together through the storm through the
black tempest's roar ;
To seek and find his father dear they went unto that
shore.
He remembers how they called him by his name the
whole night through,
He remembers how upon the sands their necks they
crouched low,
Before a wave which frenzied came as to the shore
'twas borne,
And brought with it that corpse beloved, sea buffeted
and torn.
He remembers how they buried him close to yon
cypress tree,
Which near the lonely little church afar he now can
see.
He remembers when they hollowed out and heaped
again the earth
Above, where the dear body of his father lay
beneath
That near unto him weeping stood a gentle maiden
there
THE BELL. 107
(And she too was an orphan), sprightly, innocent, and
fair.
From childhood they had loved, and now above the
father's grave
They were betroth'd, and fond embrace his mother,
blessing, gave.
He remembers that beloved one that mother calls to
mind
And griefs, and joys, and dreams within his heart
their birthplace find
Like frothy foam which ever crowns the crest of our
youth's wave,
And quenched in vapour melts away like incense
o'er a grave.
( io8 )
2>eatb
IN the dawning 'mid the dewing a rose was blooming
In the dawning mid the dewing the rose had paled
away.
A nightingale 'mong its green boughs right joyfully
did sing,
And built therein a little nest for this one gladsome
spring ;
The spring will come again, and the bird in loving
quest,
But where but where the nest ?
When the moon led out her shining train with all
the starry bands,
They looked on it with longings deep, and stretch-
ing forth their hands,
As though they wished it with them in their own
bright home above,
They said that it was one of them the sister of
their love,
DEATH ODE. log
Who, wandering through the heavens and alone, had
missed its way.
O stars ! stars ! too soon, alas ! you've called it
hence away.
There were who heard the nightingale which sang
the boughs among,
Might say, " No lay of gladness this, but a funereal
song."
There were who saw the glistening rays which had
the heavens left
To glint upon and shimmer through the leaves of the
bereft,
Could say, " These are not gladsome lights, nor
shining lamps of joy,
But tapers which in funeral trains the mourners'
hands employ."
In the dawning 'mid the dewing a rose was blooming
In the dawning 'mid the dewing the rose had paled
away.
Had the north wind passed along, and with chilling
blast been there,
And, cruel lover, looking on that rose so fresh and
fair,
Made its sweetnesses his prey,
And bore them on his wings away ?
no DEATH ODE.
So withered now, so wan its leaves, you'd say long
time the morn
Had passed it by, nor given dews to freshen and
adorn;
Or one might say 'twas like a bloom that doth un-
timely fade,
Which on a silent shrouded form some loving hand
hath laid.
A grace and charm to shed
Around the dear one dead.
In the dawning 'mid the dewing a rose was blooming
In the dawning 'mid the dewing the rose had paled
away.
I know not, but one saith indeed that yesternight
and late,
A form was seen which swept along like smoke by
breezes blown.
And black his horse as midnight deep, or dark as
darkest Fate,
And light as zephyrs flown.
He held a pale rose in his hand, which to a bare
stalk clung,
And as he sped along the heights no tear from him
was wrung.
DEATH ODE. in
He only said to the waves that saw him and shrunk
away,
" Tell me, wavelets, tell,
Is not this rose most lovely ? " To the grass which
dying lay,
Where the hoofs of his courser fell,
" Say, am not I then worthy, am I not fit to wear
A rose so fresh and fair ?
Is not Death's breast made beautiful by flowers with
such hue ? "
Alas ! too true, too true !
Hll Souls'
WITHIN thy shadowy depths, cypress drear,
I' the midnight hour will come and linger near
A father, who has lost his daughter fair ;
And night and day he wand'reth ev'rywhere,
But seeketh her in vain. All whom he asketh, say
They have not seen her pass, and weeping turn
away.
'Neath the moonbeams yester eve
He sought her cherish'd tree,
And prayed it of the lov'd one
Who came to gather free
Of its roses for adorning,
When to holy church she'd go ;
And it answered soft and low
1 When writing this poem, and the Death Ode, it is probable that
the poet had in his mind his daughter Maria, concerning whose
recent death he says, in the dedication to the vol. MvT)/j.6ffvva,
addressed to his friend Emilius Typaldos, " I feel pressing upon
my breast all the earth I threw over my beloved Maria."
ALL SOULS' DAY, 113
" I saw her every morning, 1
And like myself, most fair !
My roses she would number
Were one missing there
She would chide me, and would say,
' Although great the love she bore,
She'd forsake me evermore.'
But she'd pluck, tho' blaming,
My dew-besprinkled flow'rs,
And deck her snowy bosom,
Shedding scented showers ;
All who saw her then would say,
Looking on my blushful hue,
' She's in sooth thy sister true.'
Tell me, tell me, Father,
Lest she angered be,
Hath she bid thee hither
To say she conies to me ?
Three days have I awaited
From her rosy mouth a kiss,
And still her dear presence miss."
1 " Dans 1'ancienne literature, pour 1'instinct gre'c, 1'homme n'est
pas un etre isole au milieu de la nature inanimee et des autres etres,
tout est doue de la vie, des arbres, les rivieres, les montagnes, les
parents defunts sont toujours a venir apporter secours ou conseil
aux membres survivants de la famille. La meme croyance, ou
plutot la meme foi, s'observe dans toute 1'ecole Epirote." LAMBER,
Grecs Contemporains.
H
114 ALL SOULS' DAY.
He goeth to the night flow'r,
He sees it pal'd away :
" Flow'r," he saith, " what aileth thee,
Thy colours why so grey ?
Yester eve for thy refreshing
Did my Mary fail to bring
Cooling waters from the spring ? "
" In the night's most solemn hour
With waking lids I wait,
Hoping Mary still would seek me
Coming as of late,
When methought I saw her stand
Close within a moonlight ray,
And with the moonbeam flit away."
And thus while low it whisper'd, a voice was heard
anear,
And these the words in mournful tones that met the
father's ear
" I saw her borne along by four,
With flowers o'er her strown,
In every eye that saw her pass
Were tears of pity shown ;
The Holy Cross on high before,
Priests behind in order meet,
Lighted tapers incense sweet.
ALL SOULS' DAY. 115
Yes ! I saw your Mary stretch'd
Upon her wooden bier ;
But seek her not within the church,
Her grave thou'lt find is near,
Where the smoke of incense now,
Curling round, ascendeth high
From the earth where she doth lie.
If thou longest her to meet,
There is dawning festal great,
When to-night the dead rejoice,
Going as in bridal state
From their tombs in sereclothes white,
To taste the holy cakes l so fair,
That hands of loving friends prepare.
When the midnight draweth near,
And the birds to chirp begin,
Come thou then, and mourn alone,
Close the cypress shade within.
Then as All Souls' day is here,
To thine arms she'll come once more,
Asking kisses as before."
1 K6\v[3a., cakes of remembrance made of boiled corn, and offered
on the day of burial, All Souls' Day, and the anniversary of death,
first blessed in the church and then distributed to friends, relations,
and also given away to the poor in the streets. The custom is of
ancient derivation. These wheaten cakes are also given away in
the churches on the first Saturday in Lent.
n6 ALL SOULS' DAY.
Behind the Sanctuary there
To wait and watch he went.
And when boom'd forth the midnight hour,
The tomb its covering rent ;
And his Mary, clad in white,
Gliding to his loving breast,
On his lips her kisses prest.
" Sweetest Father," saith she then,
" Thou seest I am cold ;
If 'tis true thou lovest still
Thy Mary as of old,
Come and share my tomb with me,
For the darkness doth me 'fright
All alone in Hades' night.
See the winding sheet is wide,
'Twill cover us full well ;
Let us hence, for soon, behold,
Skies will dawning tell.
I am trembling and a-chill,
For I'm but a fragile thing,
Lonely left and sorrowing.
Behold, what dainty bed is here !
They took from out my hair,
ALL SOULS' DAY. 117
The roses which from mine own tree
I'd plucked and twined there,
And now they widely scattered lie
All o'er my winding sheet below,
Which shineth white as purest snow ? "
There, while he clasped her warmly there, whilst
her lips he kissed,
She glideth from his fond embrace, and passeth as a
mist.
The bird doth sing the dawning, and dazzling breaks
the day
Mourn for the lovely maiden for the father mourn
alway.
Ube TTwo Hnoels.
JDLIUS TYPALDOS.
WITH black and outspread wings,
By Night's o'ershadow'd breast,
The Angel of Death went forth
Out of the veiled West.
At his onward flight the winds,
The rippling brooks were stilled ;
And the silence of the grave
At once all Nature filled.
The Angel, lo, of Life
Flew from the other side,
And fragrant scents untold
In his path he scatter'd wide ;
The stars above rained down
A sweet mysterious light,
And from the earth sprang forth
Green grass, and flowers bright.
And midway in the heav'ns
Met there the angels twain,
THE TWO ANGELS. 119
When earth, and sea, and stars
Paused tremblingly again
As by the Last-day's summons
They had surprised been,
When they saw thus paired together
Life and the dread unseen.
ANGEL OF LIFE.
" Restrain thee oh restrain
Thy pinions' darksome flight ;
How many gleaming joys
Before them quench in night !
ANGEL OF DEATH.
" How many too the sorrows
That oft my hands resolve,
When o'er the joyless mortal
The clouded years revolve."
Still onward through high ether,
Go the Angels side by side ;
When from on high beholding
A girl in beauty's pride
Who with all tender graces,
Mid all her youthful charms,
120 THE TWO ANGELS.
Shall be borne off whilst resting
In her loved bridegroom's arms.
At once they down descending,
With wings that swiftly move,
Unseen the twain together
Enter the shrine of love.
The scented bridal garments
Lie scattered all around,
And in the chamber hanging
Two bridal wreaths are found.
ANGEL OF DEATH.
" Thou art sleeping, fair one,
In thy loved one's arms,
But warm hearts grow colder,
Fading youthful charms ;
Whilst thy breast encloseth
1 'aradise depart
Whilst for thee enkindled,
Throbs another heart."
ANGEL OF LIFE.
" Brother of her beauty
Wilt thou not have ruth ? "
THE TWO ANGELS. 121
ANGEL OF DEATH.
" The guileless soul e'erliving
Breaks her mortal chain ;
Pure and clothed for heaven
Seeks her God again,
Where shall ne'er be quenched,
Or loveliness or youth."
Three days have hardly glided,
Three days scarce sped along,
Since from that door outpassing
With gladsomeness and song,
A fair girl much beloved,
A comely youth beside ;
And in each breast a heaven
Of blissful hopes that hide.
And now from that same portal
With bridal robes o'erspread ;
The same fair girl Oh, hapless !
Goes out but borne forth dead.
Together back through ether
Flew then the angels twain,
And there rose as they went onward,
Singing, and sorrow's plain.
122 THE TWO ANGELS.
Hardly the Day hath sinned,
Ere 'tis by Night surprised ;
The rose in the earth decaying
Whence fair it sprung so prized.
Sorrow and Joy unwearied
Betwixt them a chaplet weave,
Which round the brows of mortals
An unknown hand doth wreathe.
One hastens on and striveth
Joy to secure and bind ;
But who flieth ever forward
The other alone will find.
Cbilfc ant) Beatb.
A CHILD as fair as a flow'r of May,
Sits on a river's bank one day,
And throws red blossoms in its tide,
To see them o'er the wavelets glide.
Like lightning gleams in the waters fair,
The perfum'd locks of its golden hair,
But still unchanged the waters flow,
And, tossed aside, the roses throw.
CHILD.
" graceless river ! thy banks carest,
Are all with roses and myrtles drest ;
Yet thou thy waves fling'st evermore,
O graceless stream ! to a far-off shore :
Whilst I all bliss and gladness find
Within my mother's arms confined."
X
124 THE CHILD AND DEATH.
A wave from the other side now strove
To seize the flower thrown from above,
When from amid the waters bright,
Arose an old man hoary, white ;
The child it gazed on his silver beard,
But looked in his face and straightway feared.
DEATH.
" Why sitt'st thou, O little one, lonely here ? "
CHILD.
" I await my mother, who draweth near."
DEATH.
" Within these arms my darling come,
I've looked for thee to share my home."
CHILD.
"Thy garments and form are moist and cold.
Chilled are all those thine arms enfold."
DEATH.
" I've strown the flowers thonst given me
All o'er me lest cold should reach to thee.
Never on earth before my eyes
An angel like to thee did rise.
THE CHILD AND DEATH. 125
Come to my place, there are gems in store,
Pastimes, and songs ne'er heard before."
CHILD.
" How will my mother's heart be torn
When seeking, she'll find herself forlorn ! "
DEATH.
" Thy mother knoweth my home full well,
And seeking, will find thee where I dwell ;
Where thou liest in my arms, she'll wend her
way
Thither at dawning and close of day."
CHILD.
" White robes and a flower-coronal
She prepareth for Christmas festival."'
DEATH.
" To the church, all clothed in shining white,
She will bear thee like an angel bright."
CHILD.
" Old man, my mother upon her breast
Sings me with sweet lullabies to rest."
126 THE CHILD AND DEATH.
DEATH.
" Thou on my breast all husli'd will keep,
And without dreaming ever sleep."
CHILD.
" At night my mother will lie awake,
And longing for me her heart will break."
DEATH.
" Throughout the night all still and lone,
So soft, dear babe, I'll lay thee down,
That in her loving arms 'twill seem
She clasps thee in a happy dream."
CHILD.
" The flower I tend at break of day
Unwater'd will wither and droop away."
DEATH.
" For thee are blopms of thousand hues,
And night-stars on them shed their dews."
CHILD.
" Pale is thy face, thy glance is drear,
Old man, I look on thee and fear."
THE CHILD AND DEATH. 127
DEATH.
" Thou'lt shed o'er me so bright a ray,
'Twill chase the dark mists all away."
CHILD.
" I hear my mother's wailing cry."
DEATH.
" The wind amid the boughs doth sigh."
CHILD.
" What stifling sobs the winds repeat ! "
DEATH.
" The murmuring waves the hard rocks beat."
CHILD.
" Mother, I'm here with sleep opprest,
Let me now lie upon thy breast."
DEATH.
" Behold this flower entwoven bed,
What perfumes sweet the earth doth shed !
Now lie thee down dear child, the kiss
Thy mother brings thou shalt not miss,
128 THE CHILD AND DEATH.
When black night cometh all in shade,
To earth down droop'd, a flower doth fade."
CHILD.
" The lake hath quench'd the sunbeams bright,
A thousand colours flash with light."
DEATH.
" A new quench'd ray resembleth there
A golden bird which cleaves the air."
CHILD.
" Sweetest kisses around me play
And unknown songs "
DEATH.
" It hath passed away."
CHORUS (on high).
" Earth, O Stars, ring forth and say
' The Saviour He is born this day.' "
ONE VOICE.
"Awhile, Angel, stay the song divine,
One other little seraph comes to join its voice to thine."
THE CHILD AND DEATH. 129
And now the joyless mother draweth near
To seek her darling and she finds it here
Like a lily lying in a flower-bed
And kisses it while trembling it is dead.
130
iaster*tit>e.
ELIAS TANTALIDES.
" Mi//>7' TJ Sd^j^'j TOVS vaous, "Kpurrbs dv^ffrt) \f/d\\ovv"
IN the church there is perfume of bay. 1 " Christ is
arisen " they sing ;
A song of joy thou too, my love, wilt thou not from
thy heart's gladness bring
See'st thou the dance ? see'st thou the kiss ?
Easter-tide aye bringeth bliss.
The flowers of Spring they are placing on every
brow
Let thine own be crowned now !
" Christ is arisen " they sing, I will see if thou'lt
now say me nay,
Or if as a Christian thou'lt give the triple embrace
of to-day. .
1 The boughs of the bay tree are universally used for church
decoration on Easter Sunday, and also as a substitute for palm on
Palm Sunday.
EASTER-TIDE. 131"
What ! wilt thou the kiss deny ?
Little coquette ! stay, stay, O fie !
My fond soul is pleading while standing beside my
lips' gates
Thy rosy mouth where it awaits.
List the voices, and see the gay smiles when children
and strangers now meet,
As within the church-porch all around they with
kisses each lovingly greet ;
If thou Easter passest o'er
Christian art thou now no more.
So long have I fasted for thee, that standing before
thee again
I am quivering in every vein.
The crimson eggs : hither bring quickly ; come, let
us strike them, and see
[f thou art conquered a kiss in thy cheeks' laughing
dimples for me !
1 This refers to a custom among children, especially popular
among boys, where one holds a red Easter egg with the top upper-
most, and another holding one the reverse way strikes that beneath,
and he whose egg is cracked or broken forfeits it to the striker. Here
the forfeit was a kiss. The day preceding Easter piles of these red
eggs are exhibited in all places for sale, and are seen in course of
preparation in every homestead ; after Easter is well ushered in, the
ground is literally strewn with fragments of red shells.
1 3 2 EASTER-TIDE.
Place thine egg mine own below
Tis broken I'm the victor now :
Ha, ha ! in no-wise indeed will we break our agree-
ment in this,
So give me give to me rny kiss.
( 133 )
Xenoula.
DEMETRIUS
" LENOULA ! see'st thou not I've donned my gala garb
to-day,
My gold-embroider'd camisole, my silken sash so
fine!
My crimson shoes what comeliness! what goodly
grace is mine !
Do I not look as though to bridal feast I'd haste
away ?
Ah ! when will God so honour me that I thine own
may see !
Why dost thou blush? Is it for fear lest thou a
nun become,
1 Mr. Bikelas has not devoted himself for some years to writing
poetry ; it has been of late, as the accomplished translator of
Shakespeare into his native tongue, that he has been more gene-
rally known an undertaking in which his admirable rendering
can hardly be too highly spoken of. In France, Italy, and Ger-
many he is held in the greatest estimation for his varied literary
gifts.
I*
134 LENOULA.
Or suitors none presenting, stay husbandless at
home;
Or dost thou think that beauty, wit, is lacking unto
thee?
Thou'rt fair, a maid of noble birth, and well endowed
with mind,
And a good, right worthy husband, my Lenoula, I
shall find.
Who knows ! maybe in Larissa to-day I'll meet with
one,
And I who go alone this morn may bring me back a
son
A son-in-law of station high, with curled fair hair
and tall.
Why dost thou turn away thy head ? What doth
that blush recall ?
Ho ! Pallikars ! away away, the sun declineth
now,
Our restless horses paw the ground in our court-yard
below ;
Away I will to Larissa ere darkness doth us
find,
Where lovely eyes will look at us the jalousies
behind.
LENOULA. 135
The Turks with low salaams will greet when meeting
on the way,
And the mother '11 tell her child, and the old man
tell his son,
How Lambro Krabariti into Larissa rode on
With ten brave lads ten Pallikars, in brave and rich
array !
The Pasha too will behold us boys, and see what
soldiers bold
Those wolves are which our gorges and untrodden
valleys hold."
Old Lambro and his ten young men on like a torrent
swept,
The dust from their swift horses' hoofs like a thick
cloud upthrown.
And Lenoula at her window stood all pensive and
alone,
And she followed with her mournful gaze that dash-
ing troop, and wept.
What seeth the maid 'mong those eleven riders who
depart ?
Alas ! her father goes to seek a husband for her hand
And she sees the youth she loveth well among that
little band :
She loves him, and none other knows the burthen of
her heart.
136 LENOULA.
That heart hath scarce put forth its blooms ere from
grief it fades away,
Weep, poor Lenoula ! weep, for thee a life-long woe
doth stay !
( 137 )
S)ance anfc tbe (Brave. 1
SPYKIDON LAMBBOS.
HE sees the foaming of the lashing wave,
He hears the roaring of the tempest wild,
He looks intent on Death, and on the grave,
But heedeth not, for Daring is Love's child.
He heedeth not. His light and fragile boat
Trembles within the fierce waves' heavy swell,
Now high, now low borne struggling, yet afloat
It touches first the clouds, then nears to Hell.
He heedeth not. If Death is lurking there,
Where howls the storm, or in the upheaved wave,
Or if a watery bed they straight prepare ;
To him what is this death, and what the grave !
He heedeth not. It is for one loved face
Strain forth his tear-impassioned eyes alone ;
1 This poem was written in extreme youth, Mr. Lambros having
for many years devoted himself to philosophical studies alone.
138 THE DANCE AND THE GRAVE.
One look alone to catch, one sign to trace,
While the strong current draws his doomed skiff on.
Beyond the gulf he sees the crystal doors
Where the high roof is filled with flashing light,
Where for the rhythmic dance gay music pours,
And thinks of forms in joyous movement bright.
And sometimes to these doors there draweth near
(Which the hot breath of dancers hath made dim)
A well-curled head, in angel' outline clear,
Some straying lock to rearrange and trim
Whilst he unhappy with the whirlpool's rage
Sharp wrestling, heedeth not its uncontrol ;
Enough that her he sees, who doth engage
His every thought, the loved one of his soul.
Well born was she, and on her snowy breast
Flashed diamonds, and the girl was wondrous fair ;
And to her grace wealth gave its splendid zest.
But worthless all no woman's heart was there.
And he, poor youth, had somewhile beauty, ere
Th' unwearied sun had marred his marble brow.
Nor gold hath he, nor gleaming diamonds fair,
But deeper riches doth his true heart know.
THE DANCE AND THE GRAVE. 139
Ah ! what the charm of flowing silk attire,
The flow of graceful wit, the well-turned phrase
Could these in me divinest Love inspire
Where they the heart's best sympathies erase ?
Long did the boatman gaze upon that door
(Who from afar a closed book can read),
He without hope his boat, no rudder more,
Nearer those frightful rocks to ruin speed.
Long, long intent he gazed ; the whirlpool now
Engulfs both boat and man, and all is o'er.
A broad sea flows, a deep deep grave below.
Tears for the dead the running waves' outpour.
There, where in careless joy the gay feet move,
Within is heard the poor boat's echoing crash ;
And from the opening door a head above
Looks on that sea the wild storm' winds that
lash.
A sudden lightning which the darkness rent
Showed scatter'd fragments which the wild waves
strew ;
Not one small tear with pitying looks was blent
Where the closed doors a smiling face withdrew.
THE DANCE AND THE GRAVE.
Again the dance ! again the music's swell !
Again the glass is dim ! Out, out, alas !
A man is drowning ! Sad Fate rings his knell
Whilst others laugh, and jest, and sing, and pass.
141 )
Before tbe panacea,
ACHILLES PARASCHOS.
WITHIN thy quiet church I come again,
Virgin Mother, all my griefs to tell
I come to speak to thee of my heart's pain ;
None other have I, as thou knowest well.
Joy of the world, thy pity on me lie ;
My Mary she is ill, I fear lest she may die.
Queen of Heaven ! Earth's fair shelt'ring stay
Thy gilded picture sees me here alone.
Alas ! she cometh not with me to-day
To light thy candles dimly art thou shown.
Who will bring incense, Lady, floating high,
If my dear love, if my dear Mary die ?
1 have not sought the healers, Lady mild ;
To thee I come to make my Mary well.
Oh, by the first glance of thy Holy Child,
By His first smile, His pure youth's thoughtful spell .
By His hard cross, and crown of thorns, I cry
To thee to save my Mary, lest she die.
142 BEFORE THE PANAGIA.
Do me this good, sweet Lady, and I'll light
A lamp above thy holy picture fair
As her dear form, and as her pure soul white,
Bright as her eyes to sparkle 'fore thee there.
Ah, grant me but this grace, O Lady High,
I would not that my Mary she should die !
Yes, if I've ever brought thee fragrant flowers,
If I have ever incense to thee thrown,
If I have wept thy Holy Son's sad hours
(My Mary's name too, is it not thine own ?)
Give me, oh give Life's dewy plant, that I
May give my Mary, lest that she may die.
( 143 )
Ube Gbilfc ant> tbe 1Riv>er.
GEORGE VIZIENOS.
IN silvery ripples a stream flows on,
A child looks in it and laughs with glee.
What harm have its crystal waters done ?
What harm can the wavelets bring to me ?
Two lilies, they float on the limpid way,
And here, and there, they are crossed awhile,
So the child doth think they have words to say,
And to him they are making some sign the
while.
Now here, now there, he to them doth lean ;
The river it passeth along with joy ;
But what do the yellow lilies mean ?
And what do they wish to tell the boy ?
To a willow-branch he clingeth now,
That little one who doth long to hear,
Alas ! when suddenly snaps the bough
He is whirled away in the waters clear.
144 THE CHILD AND THE RIVER.
At once there is quench'd his eyes' sweet light,
At once his cheeks show the roses' loss ;
When down drop those yellow lilies bright,
And lie on his body and form a cross.
What child to a river who draweth near,
Seeth not good in all things there ?
What harm can come from the wavelets clear
The rippling wavelets that look so fair !
2)0 V>C. (To Tfir/ovi.)
GEORGE VIZIENOS.
THE little birds in pairs
Fly through the woods abreast ;
The little birds in pairs
Sleep by the shrouded nest.
One only, whose poor heart
Is wrung with grief, doth stay
Alone all through the night,
Alone all through the day.
Yet this too was beloved,
And joyed in its dear mate,
And sang for very gladness
Of its most happy state.
But when one early morn
They fondled as they flew,
The sportsman came, and straight
The dear companion slew.
K
146 THE DOVE.
No other it desires
To gladden and to sing ;
It seeks no other friend,
None other love can bring.
And aye it mourns, alone
The woods it flieth round,
And dimineth as it drinketh
The water-brooks there found.
From anguish and from grief
It slowly pines away.
And there, alone, in silence,
The poor dove died, they say.
( 147 )
Hnemone.
GEORGE VIZIENOS.
A KOCK upon the hill-side
Doth with himself commune ;
A streamlet runs before him
With ever-sounding tune.
An anemone who blossoms
Upon the barren stone,
Bends down to learn what meaning
Lies in that song's gay tone.
And overmuch inclineth
From the base whereon it clings ;
" What song is that which ever
The running voyager sings ? "
A beauteous arm he singeth,
Extending with delight,
Of a lovely shore somewhither,
Which waits him day and night.
148 THE ANEMONE.
11 Would I were she," she crieth,
" Who meets his fond embrace !
And the flower lower stoopeth
To kiss the streamlet's face.
But as she down is bending,
The river's ardour strong.
Strips from her all her leaflets,
And with him whirls along.
Now standeth she despoiled,
A lone and barren stock ;
Why, why then did she loosen
Her hold upon the rock ?
POEMS OF SENTIMENT AND FEELING.
poet.
GEORGE ZALAKOSTAS.
GRIEF knows not sleep. Upon the mountains' height
White mists are hanging still,
Whilst over rock and hill
The dawn is qmVring bright.
Both herbs and grass drink in the dews of Night,
The birds with warbling meet,
And rising breezes sweet
On the stream cut furrows light.
Nereids unseen their golden crownlets plait
Upon the mountain-brow,
I' this mystic hour now
All round the angels wait
Fair dawn, wherein all Nature breathes forth sweets
From flower, bough, and leaf.
The heart that feels no grief
With joy thy radiance meets.
152 THE POET.
A poet-youth draws near a limpid spring
With eyes suffused in tears ;
The list'ning silence hears,
What sighs his bosom wring !
" joyless Night ! thy face seems like mine own !
Yet with what witching spell
Thy charm upon me fell
When flowers my path had strown.
Among the trees the little birds renew
Their songs of faithful love,
Whilst I in this lone grove
A fleeing shade pursue.
Yet once these woods were Paradise to me
Here, where soft dews are nursed ;
Ah fool ! who Fate accursed,
On earth would pleasures see.
Hereafter if some other come to mourn,
And in sad tones and low
Shall 'plain a hidden woe,
Tell him of me forlorn
Tell him of Chryse, full of youth and grace,
A queen the dance among,
THE POET. 153
To whom the maiden throng
Would aye yield chiefest place :
How fine her softly pencilled brows, how sweet
Her calm eyes' gentle light !
Those coral lips so bright
In none none other meet !
What did her youth or loveliness avail
With stern remorseless Fate ?
Death looked on her but late,
Soul hunter grim and pale !
Call me not ingrate lilies, birds, and streams !
All ye who knew her well !
Without her, can I dwell
In this vain world of dreams ?
Here where I wander heavy, dull, and pale,
I would my soul could pass,
Since Life is Hell, alas !
And Death, a Festival."
Death hears, and ere the almond trees of Spring
Put on their fragrant bloom,
To his lov'd Chryse's tomb
The hapless youth they bring.
154 THE POET.
Two trees they plant upon the sacred place :
These cast soft shadows 'round,
And when loud winds resound,
Their boughs with love embrace.
( 155 )
ZIo a Star.
JOHN KARASUTSAS.
O THOU who in yon ether's boundless vast
Dost show so doubting and uncertain light,
As glittering shells from depths of ocean cast,
Now lost to view, now back, with gleaming bright :
Should that amass of diamonds which gem
The heav'ns be God's mantle over all,
Thou art a little brilliant on the hem
Of those thick folds which round the Maker fall ;
But if no garment, but an altar high,
Where thousand thousand lights in worship burn,
Thou a small lamp, a spark from the northern sky,
One holy ray wilt yet unceasing turn.
Yet if this firmament, if this great dome,
With all its emerald and sapphire host,
Nor altar is, nor raiment, but outcome
Of worlds on worlds in loner extension lost
156 TO A STAR.
Parent of Beauty art them then and Light !
A sun with planets moving in thy train,
While every planet hath attendants bright,
Like birds their mother following o'er the plain :
Then, like a giant upon shoulders broad,
Thou bearest earths, and seas, and hills, and vales ;
Myriads of towns, where strifes have long abode.
Tell now one page of thy historic tales.
Is it with thee, world, as it is here ?
Are thousands born, do thousands daily die ?
Do thousands laugh, while thousands shed the tear ?
Are funeral, bridal lamps still passing by ?
What laws doth Justice to thy children lend ?
Doth a pure freedom in thy councils speak ?
Or before tyrants do thy people bend
The knee, and do the strong oppress the weak ?
Star ! whilst now to thee my eye upstrains,
Maybe with thee are fleets in war array,
The crash of battles echoing o'er thy plains,
And armies falling on the blood-stained way !
And yet thy children with their noise and strife
Within one little point are closed and held,
With all thy silent dead passed out of life
In that one glittering speck by us beheld
TO A STAR. 157
That spark which glints in highest heav'n ! yet this
Nor place nor hour changeth, but holds good,
Though if Night came, and 'twere not, who would
miss
A grain i' the sands, a leaf from out the wood !
Star ! who setting, rising evermore,
We 'mong the hosts of other stars neglect,
That faithfully thy path still goest o'er,
Yet what thou art by us so little reckt :
"When Night ariseth, thou like timid maid
Com'st forth, the last of all the stars in space ;
Scarce twinkling, when behind the hills in shade
Thou hastest first 'mong all to hide thy face.
Unnamed the Argive left thee. From afar
Now beautiful thou comest as of yore,
Through the blue ether flashing ; yet, Star,
A Night will come when thou shalt shine no more.
( 158 )
Xast
JOHN KARASUTSAS.
ERE in the grave my radiant star
Had set in grief when death was nigh
Before this world she left afar,
She breathed these words with tear-dimm'd
eye:
sweet Ionia's glowing morn,
On thy gold rays my spirit bear ;
Scenes, where all earthly joys were born,
Ye made for me, a heaven fair !
Kleinias, be consoled, I die
But, love, I will not leave thee aye
A faithful shade still following nigh,
Living, or dead, with thee I stay.
When in some evening hushed and still
Thou wand'rest forth in pensive mood,
And hear'st a nightingale with thrill
Of passion sing from out the wood
1 The two first stanzas of the original of this poem are here con-
densed into one.
LAST WORDS. 159
Then pause awhile, and ling'ring stay,
For know that in its plaintive song
The bird but telleth in its way
Of all that knit our love so strong.
When on thy elbow soft inclined
Thou gazest on the ocean's swell,
And thy sad eye with brooding mind
O'er all its purple breadth doth dwell
From depths those purple waters lave,
I, like a dream will quick ascend,
And in the murmuring of the wave
Sweet whisp' rings unto thee will send.
If Winter doth the Tmolon l beat,
Or wild typhoons may slumbering lie ;
Fair Spring to thee will yet repeat
The roses, and the swallows' cry.
When thou art happy, I'll rejoice ;
If mournful strains awake thy lyre,
Unseen, the Muse' pathetic voice
In poetry will I inspire.
If, when in lower darkness found,
Pale Hades holdeth me enchained,
1 ToyttwXiTs = Miroyf Say.
160 LAST WORDS.
And from above, by Kerberus bound,
With guards and massive bolts restrained-
My tears shall even Hades move,
And Kerberus its pity share,
As I lament my constant love,
And my Kleinias' name declare
Thy name Kleinias ! evermore,
Because, dear friend, it hath been said,
In hate, or loving, faithful more
Than all the living are the dead.
161
Ube Xast flDag Sons. 1
ELIAS TANTALIDS.
THOU art come back again to outpour
From thy wallet thy bright gifts anew ;
And dost ask, sweet May, as of yore,
That my song shall thy praises renew.
A defaulter, in silence, three years
I have fled from the Muses and thee ;
Yet receive, although coming with tears,
This my strain as a welcome from me.
1 In this poem the poet bewails his blindness, which calamity
befel him suddenly at the early age of 27. Notwithstanding this
drawback, Elias Tantalides bravely persevered in his avocation as
a Professor of Literature until the end of his life, dying in 1876'
when still in his prime. Notwithstanding his blindness, with the
exception of this May song, his poems are especially distinguished
for gaiety and brightness. Born in Constantinople, and (if we do
not reckon those years in which he held a professorship at Smyrna)
mostly living there, all political or national subjects were excluded
from his Muse. He wrote, therefore, chiefly bacchanalian and love
lyrics, which exhibit much playful humour.
L *
162 THE LAST MAY SONG.
how chang'd from the scenes as of old !
how iron the strength of old Time !
Thou dost see me, and oft have I told
How we met in my youth's flow'ry prime.
1 was first 'mong thy lovers, sweet May,
.Whilst in darkness lay shrouded the dawn,
Who in haste ere the opening of day
From thy leaves brush'd the first dews of morn.
I was first with my song to awake
Ev'ry echo from wood and from grove,
Ere the birds with their carols could make
The air ring with a chorus of love.
How I laugh'd, how I leapt in my glee !
As I bough from bough parted away ;
Like the butterflies, light-winged and free,
So I gathered thy rosebuds, May !
But my wings, whilst I flew, they were shorn
By the shears of divinely sent Fate
Not for Death, welcome now as the morn,
But for weary life, lingering late.
So thy festival cometh not now
As the herald of love and delight ;
All hath ceased of past ecstasies' flow
In a life which is buried in night.
THE LAST MAY SONG. 163
For thy May blossoms now blooming fair
They are black with the shadows of night ;
And thy laugh doth not ring through the air
In a dawning whose sun sheds no light.
And in me thou canst now nought behold
Of the youth who once woke at thy smile,
In this body whose veins do but hold
Just a breath of pale life for awhile.
I am furrowed with care, and my feet,
As they stumble through pathways of gloom,
With a staff which my hands stretch to meet,
Are but groping their way to the tomb.
We are wholly divorced, O dear May !
Yet in grace take the off 'ring I bring,
As though weeping and sighing, to-day
I to thee this my last greeting sing.
For as now thou wilt come back again :
Aye from others we reap ; but for thee
Thou dost bring life and youth in thy train
To transform them all, gladsome and free.
Now to thee, from, the young and the strong,
There is rising a chorus of praise ;
As from me, 'stead of hymning and song,
They are tears which are drenching my lays.
1 64 THE LAST MAY SONG.
Yet take ye, O friends take these tears,
On thy gardens of flowers them outpour,
And forgive these my lips whence appears
A complaint where a psalm should adore.
Uo a IRiver.
ACHILLES PARASOHOS.
RIVER, flowing onwards, river dear !
Which still with thousand voices biddeth me,
That I, unhappy, in thy waters clear
Shall plunge ; and yet it is not given thee
To know wherefore and whitherwards thou'rt going,
Though forward, ever forward, thou art flowing.
But I will tell thee I most gracious stream,
What Fate intended for thy crystal wave,
With all the sparkles of its silvery gleam
In an abyss to fall and find a grave.
Yes, woful one, thou may'st not, canst not stay,
One common law perforce must thou obey ;
O river, gentle river, thou as I must pass away.
Yet, ere thou passest onwards, look awhile,
If thou hast eyes, upon yon lovely sky,
That gazes on thee with a tender smile,
Nor all unheeding ever, glide thou by
1 66 TO A RIVER.
The flowers that them waterest as thou flowest,
Or the gay Earth to darkness though thou goest.
Pause then, and haste not ; look up to those skies,
That heaven which lies mirror'd in thy breast ;
See on its purple depths light clouds arise,
Like to thy stream with snowy foamings drest.
Thou too hast dewy clouds like lilies white,
But thine are Earth clouds, they the clouds of Heav'n
bright.
tell me, river, hadst thou mother dear ;
What clouds begot, and bore thee, and then fled ?
Ah ! thou art like to man, too like me here !
But weary am I by the years on led.
So now I seek, O river, 'neath thy wave
My heart's hot flame to quench, my burning breast
to lave.
Thus saying, in the flowing river sprung
A tearful bard with weighty load of grief;
Unloved by one he fondly loved and sung,
And all forgotten where he sought relief.
The wave the youth bore onwards, nor did stay,
But onwards to the abyss the wave too went its
way.
5>0\>CS. AN ALLEGORY.
FROM H XIOS AOTAH THEODORE ORPHANIDES.
WITHIN a flowery verdant mead
There dwelt two tender faithful doves
Who knew alone of happy loves,
Of sighs or tears nor meaning heed.
The hopes that strew the path of life
With purest joys, on them shone bright
And ere each morn arose in light,
The woods with their gay songs were rife.
But Winter came, and in its train
A raging tempest, which uptore
The trees, and spoiled what green earth bore-
And all the blossoms of the plain.
Then one from other whirled away,
Woke on a strange and friendless shore,
Which the grave's silent aspect wore.
And one amid the storm did stay.
1 68 THE DOVES.
Borne by the whirlwind through the night
A hungry eagle drifting on,
Seizes this lonely trembling one
With a loud shriek of shrill delight.
But after many mourning years,
With feet that flee the foreign strand
The true dove seeks its fatherland,
And back its first love' ardour bears.
But seeks in vain the woven nest
Laid waste by many a typhoon's strife
In vain that darling of her life
The eagle from their home did wrest.
With loud complaints she crieth aye,
" O God ! in tears of grief I drown :
Didst Thou not make me too Thine own,
Or merely for a tyrant's prey ? "
The Maker heard, and thus decreed :
" Be thou, forthwith an eagle, dove,
And swiftly on thy foeman prove
That which thou deem'st his rightful meed."
Then the frail bird ascended high
On eagle's outstretched golden wings,
And through the cloudlands hasting brings
The fear that dwells with power nigh.
THE DOVES. 169
Quick her swift flight to slay the foe,
Upon which deed no foulness lies ;
'T was Honour bade and in her eyes
Vengeance and Love together glow.
The fate of Chios is the subject of the above poein. Chios, cele-
brated as the richest and most populous of the Greek islands, whose
inhabitants were gentle as well as industrious, whose women were
celebrated for beauty, with a climate most genial, and abounding
in fruits, became at once a desert. In the words of Trikoupis :
" Thus did the so famous Chios, the island of delights, wealth, and
a large population, become a place of desolation and tears" (Totoi;-
rpbirus 17 irepl<pr)/j.os Xi'os, 17 PTJCTOS rijs rpvipTJs, rov ir\6urov KO.I TTJS
jro\va.v6pUTrias, Hyetve T&ITOS iprjfjiuffeus /cat Saicpvuv). Also Gordon
thus describes this lovely spot : " Chios carried on a brisk trade in
silk and fruit, and supplied Constantinople with oranges, lemons,
and citrons. Twenty-two villages were also devoted to the pro-
duction of gum mastic for the imperial harem (the Eastern ladies
chewing it). The character of the Chians partook of the softness
of their climate mild, gay, lively, acute, industrious, and pro-
verbially timid, they succeeded alike in commerce and literature
ardent promoters of education and passionately fond of their native
land" (vol. i. p. 350). "Forty-six flourishing villages, a fine city,
many splendid convents reduced to ashes, 25,000 Chians massacred,
and 45,000 dragged into slavery" (vol. i. p. 360).
Ube jflower*SeUer.
A. RHANGABKS.
COMELY damsels ! hither stay,
Here are flowers fresh as day :
Shall I sell you this, or this ?
Soft, softly, now, for mind
Whiche'er the hand I find
In my basket, I shall kiss.
What loveliness is here
In this jasmine white and clear !
T is Innocence ! Who'll buy ?
You ask, " Is aught to pay ? "
Nay, for love I give 't away ;
Still no ah ! tell me why.
A rose ! 't is love's first streak
In a blush upon the cheek,
And kisses two 'twill cost :
It will o'er this maid prevail,
Who tender rosebuds pale
Herself resembleth most.
THE FLOWER-SELLER. 171
Carnations ! these, they say,
Will fervent passion aye
Within some heart inspire.
Who'll bid ? That one alone
Is fifty ; for this one
Kisses hundred I require.
I have here a bramble bloom ;
They say 'tis Pleasure's groom,
And bringeth joyous gain.
Take care ! It hath a thorn,
It is but a wilding born,
And leaves behind it pain.
With snowy blossoms sweet,
Which zephyrs love to meet,
See, orange blossoms fair !
What mutual grace doth shine
When the bride doth them entwine
Around her golden hair !
You know it ! Fie ! no haste,
Nor, maidens, rend or waste,
For I have many more
Some for the young and small,
For the grand, ay, some for all,
From a never-ending store.
172 THE FLOWER-SELLER.
Here's honeysuckle free ;
Tis Truth, and you may see
That Truth all, all do sell.
How so ; none seek it ! Nay,
I'll give 't. They turn away,
Saying, laughing, " Tliank you well"
( 173 )
(Birl anfc tbe Xeat
STAMATOS VALVES.
IT chanced one evening in May,
The whole creation seemed most fain
Due homage to that Lord to pay
By whom glad Nature bloom'd again.
On the moon's bright
And silver light
Stood gazing a maiden fair,
When a leaflet shorn,
On the wind's plumes borne,
Fell fluttering on her there.
" Ah ! but of perfumes this is chief,"
Crieth the girl. " These scents which rise
Do make the fond heart drunk O leaf!
With the odour divine of Paradise.
Who was thy mother tell to me
Was she the Hyacinth or Eose ?
Either my thoughts could give to thee,
But thou dost other form disclose."
174 THE GIRL AND THE LEAF.
" A stray leaf mere
From the high hills near,
Come I, O damsel fair ;
But yesterday
'Mong blossoms gay
I was left by the roaming air.
And of their fragrance caught a part
Whilst dwelling 'mong those neighbours sweet.
As in thy pure and spotless heart
Behold ! thy parents' virtues meet."
( 175 )
ant>
" AM I not now beyond all measure blest ? "
Cried the fair Night unto the bright-faced Day ;
" I with the light of myriad stars am drest,
And moon's soft ray
But thou my sister lo thou art most poor !
Thy form is bathed by one star's gleam alone,
Which if the wing of a small cloud pass o'er,
Is dimmed soon.
Nor canst thou boast sweet Aphrodite's light
Nor cluster of the blooming Pleiades,
Nor mighty Jupiter that planet bright
Thou hast not these."
" Yea verily thou justly well hast said,"
The pure Day answered all aglow her sky :
" But with thy many gems which radiance shed
Shin'st thou as I ?
I 7 6 NIGHT AND DAY.
Dear Night the Beautiful doth not appear
In borrow'd lustres from a host arrayed,
Which when the one true Brilliancy draws near
Will pale and fade."
Would'st thou the lamp of glory ? Darkness flee
Thy crown be roses of the Daybreak born ;
E'en thou blind owl ! friend of the sun must be,
And hail the morn.
( 177 )
Xtfe.
GEORGE VIZIENOS.
ONE and all with thought profound,
Strive how they may compass round
To learn what power and design
Spirit to matter doth assign.
I, a youth of temper gay
Wilt thou listen while I say
Why and how the all is done
Thou dost fret thyself upon ?
God of pliant matter weaves
A cage, which openings five receives,
And those windows seen within
Are the senses placed therein.
Then amid that cage so fair
He a bird doth 'close, who there
In its own tongue talketh now
Of all that it observes below.
i;8 LIFE.
Whilst the cage doth strong remain,
There the bird still findeth vain
All attempts away to fly,
And Life with Health goes merrily
But when the cage begins to spoil,
Then the bird will strive and moil,
Till it openeth some way
Through the which to flee away.
And to former nest returned,
All that it hath seen and learned
'Twill some day in converse clear
Tell to birds of other sphere.
But should Nature ever find
A cage without the bird confined ;
She will lift it, and will bear
To her home with kindly care
And with zeal will work and strain
To give it warmth and life again,
For it seemeth chilled and cold :
Worn it is, alas ! and old.
LEGENDARY POEMS.
ttbe Xast
JOHN KARASCTSAS.
A THOUSAND winters have despoiled my lustrous
verdant hair,
But when spring smiles, and fresh leaves to the bare
boughs bring repair,
I bloom again.
,
So far agone yet seem to me my first years until now,
That if some other, or the same old self I dare not
know
If I remain.
What sweet sound that ! was it some old companion's
voice that spoke ?
No ; the north wind hath fiercely blown, and 'twas
my own lov'd oak
That whispered low :
Ah, sad one ! thou forgettest too that thou hast lived
beyond
The law of Fate. With thine old age the breezes
make no bond,
But scorn thee now.
1 82 THE LAST DRYAD.
Man's race once flourished here : in years past hither
came
The hunters, and the rustics brought their toils to
snare the game
These woods among.
When the wild beast went slowly forth from out his
thicket lair,
The Sun God, as those hunters, was not so swift, so
fair,
So brave, or strong.
With booty safe, when came the dexterous youth,
he little knew
What other secret wounds had made those arrows
which he threw,
Unknowing where.
The nymph who, breathless and unseen, for him had
waited long,
Found all her kinship with the gods, 'gainst love to
make her strong,
Unavailing there.
When to my shade he wearied came, with what fond
zeal and care
For his refreshing, out from my dark leaves I shook
the air,
Bade the zephyrs haste.
THE LAST DRYAD. 183
For he to me was much more dear, yea, dearer far
than they
Those dusky Satyrs who once came, my ears pollut-
ing aye
With lyres unchaste.
184
dDarriage of JEartb.
GEORGE VIZIENOS.
FROM height to height, from height to height,
Old cuckoo calls again,
Bidding the birds for a wedding bright
To raise the nuptial strain.
And the winged guests rejoicing all,
To the country quick repair
To joy in the gladsome festival,
To joy with the wedded pair.
Each tree puts on its festal gown,
And musky-scented flower ;
The herbs with dewy diamonds strown,
As well befits the hour.
And Nature opes her temple door,
The wide and pathless wood ;
And calleth to her sacred floor
All life for worship good.
THE MARRIAGE OF EARTH. 185
The sun comes forth with cheerful brow,
And hastes the lamps to light ;
For dews are flashing on each bough
With sparks from emeralds bright.
The rose into the censer flings
Her frankincense most sweet ;
Each bird within the choir sings
The holy anthem meet. 1
And God's own holy hand doth wreathe
The crowns upon each brow,
For wedded is the widow Earth
Unto the young Spring now.
1 See notes on Greek marriage service.
( 186 )
ZTbe 1Rain.
THE daughters of the Ocean,
Their water, vases filled,
Go rising up like cloudlets
To the heav'ns calm and stilled,
To find some flower to water,
Or rose-tree blooming fair,
That they may call forth blossoms,
To place amid their hair.
As here and there they're gliding
With timid hearts of fear,
The children of the high hills,
The boist'rous winds draw near ;
And boylike, they, those maidens,
With their filled urns, pursue,
And chase them as though lev' rets,
And they had game in view.
THE RAIN. 187
With one of charms surpassing,
Whose hair flows loose and long,
They seek to sport some moments,
And join in dance and song.
So here and there pursuing
This timid maiden throng,
Their waving garments seizing
They hold with grasping strong.
Now here, now there yet striving,
Till with a sudden blow
They break the urns of water,
And the water forth doth flow.
And thence below it rusheth
To every field and plain ;
And this is why it raineth
Through this we have the rain.
Ube Urees.
ALL the dear shady trees
Are children the earth hath borne ;
The hands they lift to the breeze
Are the boughs their forms adorn.
They lift them in prayerful strain,
And sorrow awhile they pray
That Heaven, who holds the rain,
Doth see them athirst each day.
And beholding them, high Heav'n
Remembers the olden days,
When the Earth for his bride was given,
And the wedding was joy and praise.
So down from his throne he bends,
And calleth a willing cloud,
Whom forth to the hills he sends,
To the woods and forests proud.
THE TREES. 189
" To those trees athirsting go,
To the woods which droop and sink,
On the dear ones let water flow,
Give them that they may drink."
And the cloud goes forth with will
From the firmament above,
And she raineth upon the hill,
And rains on the woods with love.
And the earth has a secret joy,
That she is remembered still,
As flowers without alloy,
And fruits her fair bosom fill.
So out from her gladness sweet,
And joy which doth much abound,
Abundance, and harvests meet,
She giveth the country 'round.
For he who would prosper, lo !
He must plant trees fair and good,
And leave them to freely grow
Till they make the thick shadowy wood.
1 90 THE TREES.
That we too may have the rain,
And the beautiful fields of green,
And in barren Hellas again
Be plenty and verdure seen.
THE bright impatient Sun
Glides down unto the West ;
A cloud hangs forth a veil
To shroud his glowing breast.
For clad all o'er with gold,
And most exceeding fair,
With open arms the Evening
Is waiting for him there.
And with the healing streams 1
She doth refresh him now,
And bringeth cooling dews
To bathe his heated brow.
Now fasting and aweary
He sitteth at her board, 2
1 An allusion to the popular superstition of healing waters, which
are supposed to cure every malady of mind or body.
8 '0 ij\ios ira.ti '<r -rb yiw/j,a meaning literally the sun is going to
dinner, idiomatically for the sun is setting is a popular expression.
192 EVENING.
Where breathing savours sweet,
She setteth forth her hoard.
Whilst these he scarcely tastes,
His head falls on her breast,
As he turns to his beloved
Within her arms to rest.
And she who so long time
Hath waited for him there
Now stretcheth out her hands
And strokes his golden hair.
Then going up on high
With lit lamps in their hands
There come from out the West
The timid starry bands
And each of these draws near
To look behind the hill
Where the nymph in tender tones
Her love is pleading still.
( 193 )
Ube Storm,
TH' unthinking clouds in squadrons
Come riding from the North,
And on the hills descending
Their heavy charge give forth ;
From ev'ry peak around them
Thick wreaths of vapour pour
With lightning' flash, and thunder
Begins the battle's roar.
Instead of spear and bullet
Hailstones and rains they wield
Which on the Earth descending
Despoil the seeded field.
Instead of sword the rustic
Doth grasp the spade and hoe,
Nor can arrest the battle
That floods the lands with woe.
IC4 THE STORM.
So looking up to Heaven
To God he lifts his eyes,
Whence dimming tears are falling
" Help ! help Thou me ! " he cries.
And God who hath compassion
On the man's good heart and fear ;
To bring him help and comfort
Doth bid the Sun appear.
As on either side the heavens
The sun and clouds are seen,
The fair and graceful rainbow
Comes stepping in between.
" Foes ! sheathe forthwith your weapons-
And bid your thunders cease,
Of old was I made in heaven
The treaty and bond of peace
Which the Maker wrote in colours,
In colours which still remain,
That the husbandman beholding
May see whart is written plain.
For the red is the crimson wine,
The yellow the golden wheat,
THE STORM. 195
And the green is that which giveth
Th' abundant olives sweet.
So that he may send forth ever
His liturgy of praise,
And with ardour light the tapers
Of ever-living rays."
196
Seasons.
THE widow'd Earth is loved of suitors four,
Four faithful wooers true ;
Each after other cometh with his store,
And spreads before her view
All he doth bring as dow'r.
The Spring than all the others is more gay
A youth with feelings sweet ;
For love alone through all the livelong day
Her ev'ry wish to meet
He gladly hastes each hour.
He summons all the birds, and bids them sing
Her praise in cheerful choir,
Each scented flow'r and rose bedew'd doth bring ;
All things that joy inspire
He wills shall her surround.
With zeal and ardour clothing her all o'er
In many radiant dyes,
THE SEASONS. 197
Whilst his full hands exulting much, outpour
The perfumes rich which rise
Her garment all around.
The Earth looks on him : gladness fills her brow,
His wooing well hath sped.
She saith impassioned, " Spring ! I love thee now ; "
And yet she doth not wed
Oh wherefore wherefore why ?
The bolder Summer cometh with ripe brain
A full-grown man and strong.
Her threshold as he crosseth with his train.
The Lady stays not long-
To cast her first love by.
Her flow'rs in due time into fruitage grow :
The blade brings forth the ear ;
With flashing sickle quick doth Summer mow
All grains that ripe appear,
And harvesteth right well.
He bringeth her abundant wheat and rye,
Her children dear to feed ;
And her broad garner-house he pileth high
With thousand varied seed,
Earth's treasury to swell.
198 THE SEASONS.
The Earth looks on him, gladness fills her brow,
His wooing well hath sped :
" Summer ! " she cries, " I love tJiee dearly now ; "
But yet she doth not wed
Oh wherefore wherefore why ?
Sick Autumn with his wan face draweth nigh,
Whom one glance doth delight ;
Whilst on her threshold, with fond-pitying eye,
The Lady changing quite,
All former love throws by.
Crimsoned her lovely breast, whereon he strows
Fruits, and the clust'ring vine :
Sir Autumn plucks the ripe grapes as he goes,
While kisses intertwine, 1
And casteth them in press.
The trodden wine is drunk, the must inhaled,
Which swelling song inspires
With hopes that youth has o'er the years prevailed,
And boyhood's ardent fires
Have come old age to bless.
The Earth looks on him, gladness fills her brow,
His wooing well hath sped :
1 fie (f)t.\^fta.Ta. The poet by this means that whilst gathering the
grapes, the young men behind the vines often snatch a kiss from
the maidens.
THE SEASONS. 199
She cries, " Sir Autumn ! yes ! I love thee now ; "
But yet she doth not wed
Oh wherefore wherefore why ?
The tyrant lord, Old Winter, with white hair,
Doth harm her in his love ;
As he her threshold passes straightway there
The Lady yet doth prove
All old loves quite cast by.
In secret he makes tremulous her breath,
And chilleth her warm blood ;
Within her veins creeps soulless life like Death,
And sadly doth she brood
In cold mistrust and fear.
Sir Winter all in raiment white is drest,
With beard like driven snow ;
He bringeth pure white garments o'er her breast
As a nuptial robe to throw,
For his bride in church to appear.
The Earth looks on him with a scornful brow,
111 hath his wooing sped.
She cries, " What, wintry Sir, I love tkee No ! "
And so she doth not wed
Ah wherefore wherefore why ?
200 THE SEASONS.
The handsome Spring to her will come again,
Her own beloved boy ;
And whilst the birds ring forth in glad refrain,
She'll wake again to joy
As her first love draws nigh.
( 201
fl&arcb.
MARCH brings the broidered gown that April wears ;
The mountain streams within his arms he bears,
And makes the plains grow bright
With radiant gleaming light.
The trees within their bark yet shivering stay,
The blossoms in their buds yet dream away.
Nor has the Mother Earth
To her flowers given birth.
" Trees, 'tis March calls. Away your idlesse fling ;
Flow'rs ! ope your eyes, and from your couches spring
To greet the magic hand
Which decks the joyous land.
For I am that glad month who ev'ry year
Kiss the young flow'rs and haste their colours here,
And for each maiden fair
A faithful youth prepare."
202 MARCH.
The flow'rs awakening hear, and sweet lips ope,
The trees half raise their eyes in verdant hope,
And rending buds show clear
That roses too are near.
The Almond tree an artful nymph doth seem,
Who roused from sleep and called from out a dream,
Her naked charms embow'rs
With nuptial robe of flow'rs.
" Hail to the comely youth in vision bright,
Who in my dreams did wed me yesternight ;
What fair gifts doth he bring
Before my feet to fling ? "
Coverlet and couch from the snowy North he bears,
The night is joyous, but when dawning nears,
The Rime with chilling arms
Doth grasp those glowing charms.
Her bridal dress i' the morn a shroud appears
The grieving Earth doth melt in misty tears,
But Noon with golden ray
Tears the cold veil away.
( 203 )
/IDetamorpboses.
A MOTHER had born to her children four,
Four children had she borne ;
She nourish'd them, rear'd them, made each a dow'r
With a heart as bright as morn.
And she sought, and did wed them to, folk of estate, 1
And rich in all household gear ;
And they homesteads kept and were deemed right
great
Athrough all the country near.
But for the ageing mother Fate
Had evil gifts in store ;
Her goodman died and in sorrowing state
A widow was she and poor.
When it came to pass she fell sick one day
The time was sad and drear,
1 No(/rt>/cv/>cuot = aristocrats, who were merchants holding their own
ships in the islands of Hydra and Spetzai. See note, p. 263.
204 METAMORPHOSES.
So a stranger she called and bade him away
To bring all her children near.
" To my dear son go bid him hither speed
For I am sick with care."
He went ; but the son must his vineyard weed,
Nor hath he time to spare.
She said, " On his body let bristles grow
For aye for evermore."
Straightway to the hills did the bad son go
In the hedge-hog's form he wore.
" To my daughter go and bid her here
For I am sick with care."
He went ; she was spinning silk fine and clear,
Nor had she time to spare.
" Let her spin her thread shall lengthen still,
But woven cloth ne'er be."
And th' unpitying child with a spider's skill
Vain cobwebs aye spun she.
" To my second daughter go and say
That I am sick with care."
He went ; but she said she must wash her array,
Nor time had she to spare.
METAMORPHOSES. 205
" Let a trough be her raiment henceforth," said she,
" And unwashed, unchanged keep."
So the pitiless child must a tortoise be
On the earth to crawl and creep.
" To my third daughter go, and bid her here,
For I am sick with care."
He went ; but before his return she was near ;
Had she then time to spare ?
" Why on thy hands doth dough appear ?
Why on thy fingers flour ? "
' I was leav'ning when the news came, mother dear.
But I came the selfsame hour."
" Let thy flour be pollen, thy trough a hive ;
And since thou time hast found,
May all thou touchest whilst thou shalt live
With honey sweet abound."
Thus saying, she smiled as she went to sleep,
For aye, for evermore ;
And thence her daughter the form doth keep
Of a bee with honied store.
So forth she flieth on joyful wings,
By flower and bloom carest,
2 o6 METAMORPHOSES.
And to every creature a blessing brings
She whom her mother blest.
The bee is popularly called the blessing ('EiAoyt'a) of God among
the peasants in many parts of Greece, which are familiar with the
above legend, in consequence of the mother's blessing her dutiful
daughter. The value of the bee for the sake of its honey to large
numbers of country people can hardly be over-estimated.
( 207 )
BuilMna of St. Sopbfa. 1
IN the great city day and night
The King doth study how to build
The Church of Saint Sophia fair.
From every part he doth invite
All men in works of science skilled,
Who plans and drawings must prepare.
The Architect designs doth bring,
The Secretary spreads them out,
And layeth them before the throne.
The King looks on them sorrowing,
Upon his face sits anxious doubt,
Unworthy deemeth he each one.
" God is/' saith he, " all power and light.
Alone that beauty which doth shine
Reflected everywhere around.
1 This is a popular legend in Thrace, where bees are held in great
estimation.
208 THE BUILDING OF ST. SOPHIA.
His church should therefore show His might,
Perfection glow in every line,
And Heaven's semblance there be found."
Then all the builders sadly kneel,
And all the great ones of the court
In silence their due homage pay.
For each and every one doth feel,
Not his the craft for what is sought,
And none can word in counsel say.
All through the night with thoughtful brow,
Each strives to fashion in his mind
The plan which doth before him lie.
None heeds the coming Sunday now,
But toileth on, for none can find
The heart to join in worship high.
Yet when the morning dawneth there,
They see the sacred tapers pass ;
They hear an old voice tremulous sing.
It is the Patriarch who doth bear,
Straight going from the church and mass,
The blessed bread l unto the King,
1 The Antidoron (a.rriSwpoi') is the bread which has been offered
for the service of the altar, but which has not been required for
consecration. This blessed bread is broken into portions, which
towards the close of the liturgy are distributed to the worshippers
by the clergyman who stands for the purpose outside the holy doors.
THE BUILDING OF ST. SOPHIA. 209
Who, bending from his throne doth kiss
Those aged hands which to him bring
The blessing and the Holy One.
Yet some way happeth it amiss,
For the bread falleth from the King
The thick-furred lion skins upon.
The King his sceptre casts below,
And leaves at once his royal seat,
To search with care around and near.
It must not on the earth lie low,
Lest it be trodden 'neath the feet,
And some one fall in judgment drear.
Whilst thus the King with troubled face
Before his throne bends low his head,
Where still he hopes that gift may lie ;
A bee he seeth near the place,
Which holds in its small jaws the bread,
And from the window forth doth flv.
Often a portion is carried home from church to some member of a
family who may have been debarred by sickness or some other cause
from attending divine service. It is always reverentially eaten,
and valued as a token of church fellowship ; and as it dates from
very early times, it is possible that it may be traceable to the
love-feast of the Primitive Church. In the old French rituals it
is found under the name of pain beni.
O
o THE BUILDING OF ST. SOPHIA.
Straightway a crier he decrees
Shall to the market-place be sent,
And thus declare the royal mind.
" A purse of gold ! Who keepeth bees
Let him now search with close intent,
That he my blessed bread may find."
Then all men seek with close intent ;
Yet from their seeking nothing gain
Other than wax or honey sweet.
The Master-Builder's thoughts are bent
On seeking, and with eyes full fain
A marvel doth his vision meet.
Within a basket woven fine,
Wherein a hive is moulded fair,
Glitters and gleameth somewhat bright ;
No yellow wax thus e'er can shine,
No honey sweet he seeth there,
But sculptured church with carvings light.
Its domes are like the heavens above,
The columns like thick woods uprise ;
The floor may with wide Earth compare.
Never will Christian song of love
For God's great praise and worship rise
Within another church so fair.
THE BUILDING OF ST. SOPHIA,
He, then abashed before the throne,
Prostration maketh low and deep,
And open'th out the temple's plan :
" We all are sinners every one
Nor one among us who doth know,
Or God's magnificence can scan.
Thy blessed bread to cherish, lo !
With what amassing treasures filled,
See this good bee hath hither brought
The Highest aye to honour. So,
Let the Great King a temple build
Like to this church so fairly wrought."
The King to God doth low incline
" Beauty and Power unto Thee
Ever," he cries, " be grateful praise ! "
Three times he kisses the design,
And then declares the firm decree,
a Thus shall ye Saint Sophia raise."
LOVE LYRICS.
ZTbe parting
ARISTOMENKS PROVTLKOIOS.
WHEN with recalling love I told
My country's climate fair,
How a green carpet was unrolled,
How roses in the wintry air
Bloomed with the tints of Spring ;
How that the sun's ne'er dimmed ray,
Piercing the ether blue,
Was lost within that ocean way,
Which ever lengthening to the view
One purple breadth would bring.
" Ah ! " sighed she sadly, " each fond word
That floweth from thy mouth,
Shows thee by home's deep longings stirred ;
But thou, true child of thy dear South,
Remember me when there."
216 THE PARTING.
" In the blue colour of her skies,"
I said, in griefs despite,
" Again I'll see thy gentle eyes,
And in our Phoebus' golden light
Behold thy shining hair."
Sonnets.
AH ! now at last I freely breathe to-day.
The pain, and all the gnawing and unrest,
Which so long wrestling with did weight my breast,
Is over. Conquered Love hath flown away.
O blissful calm ! I hail thee with thy train
Of many angels 'round thee fair and bright ;
My spirit walks forgetful, to the light
Of the blue ether rising once again.
Now heal'd as if so pitiful a wound
It ne'er had known, my heart doth daily bound,
And seeks its past commotions to renew.
As when the sailor- 1 saved, though tempest tost,
Through the fierce wintry winds so nearly lost
Longs his drear wanderings to commence anew.
2i8 TWO SONNETS.
THE harpsichord thy fingers lightly press,
While thy rich voice with sympathetic tone
Opens to me the gates of realms unknown.
And lights untrodden paths of happiness.
Thy song doth cease, when floweth o'er my soul
The strength divinest of the wordless strain,
And then, as though with mimic speech, again
Music brings back in pictured form the whole.
When long I to fall prostrate at thy feet,
And all the fairest gifts that e'er can meet
In heavenly places in thy lap to pour.
For both the power of thy Music's spell
And thy sweet feeling face their impress tell,
Deep in my spirit all things else before.
( 219 )
sier Bougb.
GEOBGE DROSINES. From El8v\\ia.
" IF thou pluck'st me not as thou go'st by,
Thy love it shall fade away and die."
So sings the dewy osier
Early in the morning,
Holding to the traveller
Her flower-boughs in warning.
An old man if it chanceth,
The name of love then hearing
On the other side he passeth
And turns his head with fearing.
But if a black-eyed maiden
And her lover hither stray
220 THE OSIER BOUGH.
A bough of the dewy osier
They haste to cut straightway.
For they are troubled in heart, and fear
Lest e'er unto them that curse come near.
( 221 )
Snows.
From
THE sun shines, filled with glowing light,
Our earth is mantled o'er with snow ;
In Nature only, to my sight
A pair like heat and cold doth show :
Yes, in a blue-eyed little maid
I see the very same exprest,
Within her eyes the fire displayed,
Yet bearing snows upon her breast.
A STAR which shines on high,
(The earth is chill and cold)
Doth glitter and doth flash upon
The snows which her enfold.
A tender breast which loves
In hopeless grief and woe,
222 SNOWS.
Is like the star which casts
Its light upon the snow.
WHAT are the soft white snows,
That are falling from the sky,
Which the driving north wind strows,
On the mountains piling high ?
Is it cotton in heaven grown,
Which the tender flowers outfling ?
Or is it the finest down,
Plucked from an angel's wing ?
H SHamonfc.
From
IT once so happed a crystal fragment lay
Unmarked long upon some thistles sere,
When on a sudden kissed by the sun's ray,
Its brilliant sparkling all behold, and say,
" Ha, what a lovely diamond is here ! "
My love it is, that clotheth her with light !
For all she is a maiden no more fair
Than others, but for me a star of night,
A flower, an angel, or a bird o' the air !
For you 'tis glass, for me a diamond bright.
TTte.
From 'I<rrbi '
THEY talk as though in April 'twere alone
That roses blossom and that lilies flower ;
But now we're in old January's power,
Yet on her cheeks and on her red lips shown
Lilies and roses opened full I see
But pity 'tis they do not bloom for me.
From '
WHEN I tell thee on thy mouth, so small and sweet,
The hues, the scent, the dews of roses meet,
Thou tak'st it well and smil'st, Mary ;
But when I would (a little dew to sip)
A bee become, and fly to thy red lip,
It angers thee ; but why, Mary ?
FOLK SONGS.
Bauabter. 1
GEORGE DROSINES.
" TELL me, O lovely maiden, whence do thy graces
flow,
How did thy mother nourish thee, what care did she
bestow :
With sugar did she feed thee, that thou art aye so
sweet ;
Was milk thy drink, for thou like milk with white-
ness art replete ;
Did she bathe thee in rose waters, for thou bloomest
like the rose ;
Made she a bed of downy plumes whereon thou
might'st repose,
With sweet musk for a pillow, that thou of musk
may'st smell ?
" My good and darling mother, my mother deeming
well,
1 Mr. Drosines, in his Folk Songs, has caught all the spirit and
piquancy of those songs which he heard from the lips of the girls of
Euboea, several of which he gives us in 'Aypdriicai 'ETn'crroXcu. They
are, however, not reproductions, although possessed with the same
feelinsr.
230 THE ONLY DAUGHTER.
With sugar hath not fed me, white milk for drink
nor gave,
Nor that I might be more than fair, did with rose
water lave ;
She gave me no musk pillow, no bed of down to press ;
But my kind mother nourish 'd me with many a fond
caress ;
And with her loving kisses she all this sweetness
sent,
And with her tender blessing this balmy perfume
lent.
Thus was I reared on love alone, and bloom in beauty
drest,
For I am an only daughter, a maiden much carest."
( 231 )
TTbe flDaifcen anfc tbe Sailor.
A MAIDEN, by her window broidering,
Looks out upon the broad and purple sea ;
And still she sews and sews, soft murmuring,
And still she sews and sews, and thus sings she :
silly madcap South Wind, gently blow,
And thou, North, some little prudence show,
For I have my beloved one on the sea ;
And I await the joyful Easter-tide
When I shall wear the flow'r crown of a bride,
And he in bridegroom's scented garb shall be. 1
The North Wind heard, and pitying breathed a sigh ;
But the offended South waxed grim and wroth !
" The silly South, my damsel, ne'er am I,
But the dreadful South, when I go angry forth ;
For bosoms numberless have I made dark,
Made mothers widows, orphaned babes beside :
1 overwhelm the sailor with his bark,
And I will make thee widow ere a bride."
1 See note of sailor's wedding at Spetzai.
232 THE MAIDEN AND THE SAILOR.
With syphoon then she roused the sleeping sea,
The waves like swarthy demons whirled around ;
His shapely boat was overborne, and he,
The hapless sailor youth, the lover, drown'd.
The maiden wept not when the tale they told,
Nor spoke one word, no sigh her bosom tore.
She fix'd her eyes where yet the ocean roll'd,
And 'gan to broider deftly as before.
And as she sewed and sewed, 1 thus still sang she :
" O silly madcap South Wind, gently blow !
And thou, O North, some little prudence show,
For I have my beloved one on the sea."
The travellers who journey by her door
They hear her, and they wipe the tears away.
The fishermen who sail along the shore
They hear her, sighing as their boats they stay.
For the maiden, for the sailor, pitying pray.
1 To prepare the clothes for her dowry is the chief care and em-
ployment of the peasant girl. Not only does she make all her gar-
ments, sewing and embroidering them most exquisitely, but she spins
the cotton and wool, of which they are composed, dyes and weaves
it with her own hands. Some will have as many as 40 viroK&fj.icra.
alone.
233
Ube 6itts.
" SENT forth by my good master, a merchant young
am I ;
For him I'll buy sweet sugar, honey of price I'll
buy.
damsel sweet of speech who hath met me on the
way,
Wilt thou thy honey-sugar'd lips sell me for gold
to-day ? "
" My lips I do not sell, but I'll give them with the
rest,
With all my other dowry, to the youth whom I love
best."
" A gardener am I, damsel, of lilies I have store ;
But thy face hath fairer lilies than aught I've grown
before.
234 THE GIFTS.
Then stay, thou lily-cheeked one, and to me two lilies
sell,
In my garden I will plant them, and rejoice in their
sweet smell."
" The lilies of my face I keep to give them with the
rest,
With all my other dowry, to the youth whom I love
best."
" I deal in silk, O fair one ! one moment prithee
stay,
And tell me for how much thou'lt sell thy plaited
hair to-day ;
It falleth o'er thy shoulders in trim and even row,
In golden sheen and glistering, as finest silk threads
show."
" Nor yet my shining yellow locks, for they go with
the rest,
With all my other dowry, to the youth whom I love
best."
" I am a wealthy goldsmith, and have jewels that I
prize,
But, girl ! for how much wilt thou sell thy blue
and gentle eyes ?
THE GIFTS. 235
They are a pair so full of light, so like to sapphires
true,
That I will make of them two rings, with stones of
heavenly blue ! "
" My eyes, in sooth, I may not sell : I give them
with the rest,
With all my other dowry, to the youth whom I love
best."
" Dear maid, I am no goldsmith, nor gardener I'll
prove ;
I am the poor youth thou wilt take, the youth whom
thou dost love,
Who all night long keeps watch and ward before thy
cottage door,
And to his little tambourine thy beauties singeth
" If thou'rt the youth I love so well, then I have
nought to say,
For what to others I sell not, to thee I give away."
TIbe Wftcbcrafts of %ov>e.
HIGH on the brow of the mountain, from the busy
world away,
There sitteth a cunning woman a woman weird and
gray.
A maiden goeth in early dawn, and with pleasant
words doth greet,
She layeth eggs in her mantle, and wheat ears at her
feet.
" How chanceth it, fair damsel, this uphill path
thou'st won,
To come and see the wizard dame who sitteth here
alone?"
" To tell thee all my anguish, to confess to thee, wise
dame,
Unknowing both my mother and my brother, here I
came
Because I love Kostantios, and he careth not for
me;
Alas ! he loves another, and 'tis she his bride who'll
be."
THE WITCHCRAFTS OF LOVE. 237
" If Kostanto he love thee not, what can my skill
avail?"
" Oh, charm thou once, and then straightway his love
for her shall fail ;
Oh, charm thou twice, and then forthwith will love
for me prevail."
"Why, maiden, ask'st thou charms from me? what
could my art devise ?
For thou hast charms more potent far in your two
bright black eyes ;
And in thy mouth so small and sweet, your hands so
white and fair ;
For they do all the youth bewitch, and e'en old men
ensnare.
Go back unto thy village, girl, and make thee all
good speed,
And when the next glad festal day comes round, then
take thou heed,
Put on thy white embroidered gown, 1 thy finest
softest vest, 2
iffov, the under and chief garment, composed of thick and
fine white cotton, close to the throat, and down to the feet, with
wide sleeves, and all richly embroidered.
2 ffiyyovvt, a sleeveless long vest of white woollen, reaching
beyond the hips, and open at the chest ; also embroidered round
the bottom.
238 THE WITCHCRAFTS OF LOVE.
Thy skirt of red with silken flow'rs, 1 thy chains across
thy breast, 2
And bind a yellow kerchief then thy graceful head
around.
Then let your place amid the dance near Kostanto be
found,
And be not shamefast overmuch, but raise your head
awhile,
And press his hand whilst up to him you lift your
eyes and smile.
Let none then call me wizard dame, nor my renown
spread wide,
If Kostanto doth seek thee not to ask thee for his
bride."
The dawning breaketh sweetly which St. George's
Day 3 doth bring,
When on the threshing-floor the youths and maidens
dance and sing.
The pretty damsel dances then to Kostantaki near
a short skirt of crimson cloth, often most exquisitely
worked in silk, with the most harmonious blending of colours.
2 yiovprrdi>i, numerous connected chains of silver, to which are
appended a multitude of silver coins of different kinds.
3 St. George's Day, old style, would be the 6th of May, when
the harvest in many parts of Greece would be over and thresh-
ing began. The wheat-ears show ripe in the beginning of
April
THE WITCHCRAFTS OF LOVE. 239
With all her silver ornaments, 1 and all her broidered
gear,
And by degrees less shamefast, she doth lift to him
her eyes,
And Kostanto then trembles, and his heart throbs
with surprise ;
But when the maiden smiles on him, and presses
soft his hand,
Kostantaki feeleth faint and sick he loseth all
command,
And he forsakes the dance straightway, and to his
home doth glide.
But ere the hill is darkened, ere the sun sinks o'er its
side,
Proposals fair for her he sends, and asks her for his
bride.
1 &pfi.aTa. All the silver ornaments, chains, bracelets, brooches,
clasps, &c., are classed together as &.p/ji.aTa = iceapr>ns. Mr. Drosines,
in his 'AypbriKai e7rcrro\at, in_speaking of this appellation, remarks
that he supposes the name has been given because "through them
men's hearts are wounded."
( 240 )
Ifclepbt.
THE lads are eating and drinking, gaily their songs
arise.
A captain of Klephts, an old Souliote, beholds them,
and listening, sighs.
" Come hither, old man, wilt not thou now sing us a
better lay ?
Come, give us a song of the olden time, of the days
long past away."
" What can I tell you, giddy boys, how can I
laugh and sing ?
My voice is husky with many years my heart is a
changed thing
Since I was a gallant Pallikar a lusty youth and
strong,
None then could face me in the dance, excel me in
the song.
I clomb the hills and mountains high, as with the
Turks I warred ;
THE OLD KLEPHT. 241
I went down 'mong the villages the girls by love
were snared
The mothers who beheld me, they all wished me for
their son
The damsels who looked on me strove how I might
soon be won
Some two or three fell sick indeed and pined away
and died
And others donned the serge and left the world and
all beside !
But I no woman gladdened and a wife I ne'er have
wed
For I was a Klepht at Agrapha, and sore it had
bested
If I had ta'en a wife with me up to our Klepht ic
hold!
What pleasures and what joys for her could there
her life enfold ?
Could I leave her in the village and bemoan for her
on high ?
No as a widow I have lived and widowed I shall
die.
'Tis well for you lads, well, Eoumeli's sparrow hawks
so gay
For you have now your freedom lead a merry life
to-day
Your parents are not slaughtered, and your houses
are not spoil'd
242 THE OLD KLEPHT.
Nor in the Turks' hareems are your sisters dear
defiled.
You do not scour the mountains nor in rocky fast-
ness hide
But through the villages you walk safe by your
mother's side
And come and take your place i' the dance that you
may charm my eyes
With your tall and dapper bodies, and your waists
of slender size
And bid me to recount to you my youth and the
olden day
When as it is with you 'twas then, my April and
fair May.
But now old January's snows have compassed me
around
From hour to hour I sit and wait till Charon
hath me found."
243
Slave.
THE Turks came down and burnt the homesteads
near,
The Christian folk dispersing, fled for fear ;
The children from their mothers' arms were torn,
The sisters from their brothers far were borne,
Parted a wedded pair of two days old.
The lovely bride to slavery was sold
In the city, whom a tyrant vizir bought ;
The husband as a Klepht the mountains sought.
Twelve years passed over since that hapless day.
She saw the Aprils who bring in the rose,
She saw the Januarys come with snows ;
And she with grieving beat her heart away,
As a partridge which a narrow cage doth close.
Then some good Christian, pitying her pain,
For seven thousands * her redeemed again ;
1 7000 ypoacra. = piastres.
244 THE SLA VE.
And sent her to her own dear country back.
But many woes had aged her, alack !
And many tears had marred her visage fair,
And many bitter thoughts had blanched her hair.
Not one in her own country knew her none.
" Hail ! " cried she, " men and lasses, every one
Know ye not here Gerometros' son's son,
Whether he lives hath gone away or died ? "
" He liveth, and is chief here far and wide,
A fair wife had he, lost when yet a bride ;
But he hath ta'en another still more fair,
And hath two sons to lighten every care."
As a taper wasteth l so her visage failed,
White as the cotton plant her poor lips paled ;
Returning on the road she trod before,
She prayed the Abbess at the convent door
" Give me the gown of black ! the cloth of hair !
A Turk's foul kisses brought my youth despair ;
For twelve long years no church my feet have trod."
All through the night then prayed she to God.
She kissed the cross and pictures, wept and sighed,
But with the dawn for very grief she died.
1 The simile of " tapers wasting " is a very favourite one, and anv
one who has seen the rapidity with which they are consumed at
the Greek festivals, melting away in a few seconds comparatively,
must admit the expression as used to be felicitous.
THE SLA VE. 245
As they her body in the earth would lay,
Kostantios Gerometros came that way ;
He claimed her for his own, and stood beside,
Kissed her, and knew she was his first dear bride.
Ube IRerei&s.
IT was a gay young cavalier, a comely youth enow,
Who rode forth from his home unto a village far away
To keep Elias' festival whereto he'd made a vow.
He started with the dawn, the sun now told the close
of day, 1
When the youth drew up and paused beside a flowing
river's brink,
That he and his aweary steed might rest awhile and
drink.
But soon as he dismounted and had loosed his bridle
rein,
There came the sound of women washing garments
in the flow.
He tied his horse unto a bough and turned him round
again,
To see if they were cousins fair or damsels he might
know ;
1 rd 'a rii ytufia. See note to " Evening."
THE NEREIDS. 247
But none are of his country, nor the soft singouni l
wear;
Their robes are all of purest white, and white their
mantles fair,
And o'er their shoulders floating fall full three arms'
length 2 of hair.
Their every look was lovely, their lips with smiles
were sweet,
Their eyes were black as gown of priest, straight
brows, long lashes meet.
The comely youth then knew at once that these were
Nereids fair, 3
As sisters, all alike in face and form and graces rare ;
And one among than all the rest was yet more
charming shown,
Who wore upon her stately head a shining golden
crown.]
The youth drew near and greeted them with greetings
deep and low
1 Singouni. See note to " The Witchcrafts of Love."
2 The measure in Greece is by the TTT/XVS or arm's length, being
two feet.
3 A belief that there are Nereids still lurks among the peasantry
in remote districts, especially among the women. Only last summer
(1884) an embroideress who was disposing of her embroideries in
Athens, was asked why they were always more or less stained.
" Kvpia," she exclaimed, in answer to my friend's inquiry, " it is the
Nereids who do it when they borrow them for their baptisms."
248 THE NEREIDS.
"All hail, O Queen! Companions hail!" "Hail
youth with comely brow."
" Fair ladies, who your garments sweet wash in the
crystal stream,
Will you not wash for me my cloak with dust and
heat defiled ? "
' With joy, with joy, rustic brave whom gallant
youth we deem."
And once, yea twice, the queen's fair hands washed
well the mantle soiled.
The youth then dons the mantle, and he hasteth to
the feast,
And wheresoe'er he standeth and wheresoe'er he goes,
One to the other whispereth, and asketh of the rest,
" Whence came that sweet and musky smell that all
around arose :
Is it a bough of the wild vine, or incense wafted near,
Or is it a perfum'd damsel bathed in musk who cometh
here ? "
" 'Tis not a branch of the wild vine, nor holy incense'
breath,
It is not a damsel who hath bathed in musk that
scents the air ;
It is alone my mantle from the crystal runlet 'neath,
Which the Lady of the Nereids washed with dainty
hands so fair :
THE NEREIDS. 249
It hath scented me, and my good steed, the roads
that branched aside
The travellers and all the church the country far
and wide
But not with me befitteth it such mantle should
abide :
Come hither then, fair maidens, and range you in a
row 1
All who, in dance excelling who chief in singing
prove
And she who danceth best of all whose song doth
sweetest flow
To her my mantle I will give and she shall be my
love." 2
1 For account of festival dancing and dance songs see Appendix
Notes, p. 284.
2 Antoniades in his Kprjriqis, whilst introducing the " Nereids,"
gives a very good solution of the origin of these wild fancies among
mountaineers, the inhabitants of lonely hills in all countries being
more given to flights of fancy, and superstitions than the children
of the plains. He pictures the solitary shepherd with his flock,
his dog, and his pipe arriving in the shades of evening at a stream
surrounded by rocks. All kinds of misty wraiths might soon be
conjured up as he rested there, or played his simple music, while
the darkness closed around him. The usual result, however, of inter-
views with the Nereids is not of the nature of the above meeting of
the youth with the lady " KaXw." On the contrary it is generally
described to be signally fatal, for if the shepherd or traveller be not
allured by the charms of one in particular into unhallowed love,
the mere beholding them is of itself sufficient to bring on a disease
which baffles the skill of the most skilful physicians, and can only
be removed by the exorcisms of a cunning woman.
NOTES.
-NOTES.
ALI PASHA AND HIS MOTHER HAMKOS.
" THE renowned barbarian All Pasha, the celebrated vizier
of Epirus, was born about the year 1745, at Tepeleni, a
small village on the banks of the Aoiiss or Voi'oussa, near
the spot where it* issues from the gorges of Klissura.
His family, whose name was Issas, or Jesus, an appella-
tion still common in the East, came originally from Asia
Minor with the hordes of Bajazet Ilderim ; x and his grand-
father Mouctar was one of those who fell at the siege of
Corfu, by Diannun Cozia in 1716. He left three sons, of
whom the youngest, Veli, after exercising for some years
the profession of a bandit in the mountains of Albania,
returned to Tepeleni, murdered his elder brothers, seized
upon the property of the family, and became the first
Aga of his native village. He subsequently married the
daughter of the Bey of Conitza, Khamcos, or Hamcos 2 as
it is now written, by whom he had two children. Ali, the
future lord of Juannina, and his sister Chainitza, after a
1 Sir James Emerson Tennent's History of Modern Greece, vol.
ii. p. 381. According to Pouqueville they were Albanians by de-
scent ; the story of their Asiatic origin is that of Ali himself.
1 More generally called " Hamko."
254 NOTES.
life of crime and debauchery, died while his offspring were
still in their infancy."
On the death of Veli, the widow Hamko, upon the plea
of defending the rights of her son and daughter, Ali and
Chainitza, against the sons of a former union, headed the
bands and tribes herself, and led them forth against the
neighbouring peoples. In one of these marches she fell
into an ambuscade, and was taken by her enemies with
her two children and thrown into the prison of Gardiki.
She was afterwards ransomed, the money being supplied
by a Greek ; but some insults received from the Gardikiotes
remained rankling, and young Ali was educated to become
her avenger. Step by step he rose to riches and power,
solely, as he said, by following the maxims of his mother, 1
wherefore to her throughout life he was thoroughly devoted.
More than forty years after the insults from the Gardi-
kiotes, Hamko, dying of a painful disease, sent for Ali to
receive her last commands. He did not reach her until
she had expired, but his sister repeated to him the in-
famous bequest, and hand-in-hand before the dead body
of Hamko, Ali and Chainitza swore to exterminate utterly
Gardiki, men, women, and children, and to lay it waste.
"Showers of tears accompanied his oaths."
It was not until fifteen years after this that an oppor-
tunity presented itself for carrying out his mother's will
(written as well as verbal) regarding Gardiki. His sister,
had he been so minded, would not, however, let him forget
their joint bond, and in 1812 the time came. As cunning
as he was cruel, he hoodwinked the French consul by
1 See conversation of Ali with Mons. Pouqueville, Consul of
France at Janina for fourteen years, in Ilittoire de la,
de la Grtce, torn i. chap. x.
NOTES. 255
declaring l to him that he would make Gardiki, which he
was just on the point of acquiring, " la fleur de 1'Albanie,"
whilst he had just received a despatch from his sister,
saying that the women must he at her disposal, " Je ne
veux plus coucher que sur les matelas remplis de leurs
cheveux." The Gardikiotes were a mixed people, Maho-
metans as well as Christians, and the order for the massacre
was indignantly rejected by Oiner Briones (Vrioni), who
refused to shed the blood of Mahometans. The next
order was given to a battalion of Mirdites. Their leader,
Andre Gozzolino, whereupon exclaimed, "We kill men
without any defence ! put arms in their hands and we
will go against them as warriors." Athanasius Bagias
(Thanasy Vayia or Vaiia) then offered himself, and to
him was the destruction of Gardiki deputed, and the
details of this dreadful event literally fulfilled the com-
mands of the mother and the wishes of the daughter.
"THE FLIGHT."
''THE Flight" celebrates the great success obtained by
the Souliotes under Lambros Tsavellas 2 over Ali Pasha
on the 2oth July 1792. The Vizir had left Janina with
15,000 men, who had all sworn upon the Koran to
exterminate the Christians of Souli. The Souliotes were
celebrating their festival of flowers when they heard of
1 Histoire de la Regeneration de la Grece, par Mons. Hugues
Pouqueville, torn. ii. chap. iv.
2 Written Tsavellas, Tzavellas, and Zabellas. In this and other
names I have followed the Greek and English authors quoted,
although they differ.
256 NOTES.
the approach of the Turks. Abandoning their villages
and plains they gathered together, and awaited their
enemies in the defiles of the mountains. Their women,
headed by Moscho, the wife of Tsavellas, and their
daughter Cai'dos, hurled down stones from the heights,
and broke the column of the assailants, and in this
position the advanced body of the Turks was engaged
and entirely beaten without any quarter being given,
and only the rear-guard escaped, leaving seven hundred
and forty dead. This defeat caused a panic among the
Turks, and AH fled precipitately by night to Janina.
See POUQUBVILLB'S Histoire de la Regeneration, liv. i.
chap. vi.
KATZANTONS.
IN 1806, impelled by the cruelties exercised in Cepha-
lonia, Ithaca, and Leucadia, a general rising took place
in Corfu, encouraged by Russia. Thither went Cadgi
Anton (Katzantones), " convert d'armes brillantes," l with
his five brothers, the Botzares', and other captains, who
took oaths of fidelity to Russia, Katzantones swearing
never to lay down his arms until Greece was free, and
placed under the sovereignty of the Orthodox ruler.
The triple alliance of Turkey, England, and Russia against
France, altered the views of the Greek patriots, but Kat-
zantones remained faithful to his first idea. This wild
mountain hero or Klepht, renowned as he had been for
his many exploits, miscalculated the strength against
1 Pouqueville.
NOTES. 257
which he had to contend, and the numbers which could
be brought against his small force. AH Pasha had kept
constant watch upon this valiant chief, who was cele-
brated no less for beauty of person 1 than for his prowess.
The Albanian, Veli Ghekas, who was in the service of
Ali, was sent against him with a regiment of Albanians.
After some reverses, and when wasted by a slow fever,
he, in company with his brother, George Hasotes, sought
the heights of Agrapha, thinking to recover health and
strength in its mountain air. He remained some days in
a monastery there, but not feeling assured against espial,
he, whilst still weak and ill, left, and with his brother
took refuge in a cave. A monk or priest who brought
them food betrayed them. Sixty Albanians surrounded
the cave, through whom George Hasotes, carrying his sick
brother, endeavoured to cut his way. They were, how-
ever, both made prisoners, and taken to Janina, where
they were beaten to death by hammers. Katzantones,
being enfeebled by disease, is described in some accounts
as having given way to cries, and as having been reproved
for this by his brother, but the popular version is that he
died exultant. POUQUEVILLB, &c.
A popular (folk) song makes him victorious. It repre-
sents Katzantones as inviting Veli to Agrapha to show
him how Klephts fight " Na '3^j rd xXetfrnxa cvadta, rat,
x\S(f>Tix.a, \iroi><t>ix,ia," and after a combat of three hours,
" rPi7; ueais pe rqv &ea" Katzantones and his eighty-three
comrades kill Veli and his pashas
'0 KarfavTUvys 'err "A.ypa<f>a ft 5y86i'Ta rpets vo/juirovs,
fbv B TK^KO. V/c6rw(re, ical rpeis fjarov\ovK TTCKrdSes."
'A.i>6o\oyia
1 He is described as of middle height, with eyes of fire, long black
moustache and shady (ve<t>e\68eis) eyebrows, agile in limb, with a
sweet voice.
R *
258 NOTES.
THANASY VAYIA
THE name of Thanases (Athanasius) Yayias (which I have
thought is better rendered by phonetically anglicising it
as Thanasy Vayia 1 ) is perhaps held in more unqualified
detestation by the Greek people, especially by the in-
habitants of Epirus and Thessaly, than even that of his
notorious master, Ali, on account of his being himself a
Greek. After the horrible massacre of Gardiki he was
advanced to the post of Ali's secretary; but upon the
downfall and death of the Pasha, although he escaped
with his life, he fell into the extreme depths of poverty,
hated and shunned by all men, or, in the words of a con-
temporary to whom Valaorites appealed for information
concerning him, " tyofasf, cf>i\t /tov aav exuXof " (he was
starved, my friend, like a dog) ; and when he died, his
body with difficulty obtained burial. His widow, bare-foot
and in rags, wandered from door to door imploring alms,
until she also died, said the same authority, " Ku;o; oJts
KOU " (God knows where), adding, " E/i-a/ 5/xa/aj i]
rov fj,iydXov 0oD"! Introduction to " 0ai<a<rtjj
by Valaorites " Mi/>j,u,offu>a," Athens, 1868.
" Reach me but the light
Which you each evening kindle " (p. 48).
In the humblest dwelling there is generally a small
lamp or taper lighted as often as possibly can be afforded
before a picture of the Blessed Virgin or favourite saint.
I have seen some usually a common coloured print so
begrimed with smoke and faded by years that it was not
possible to discover a trace of any feature therein.
"A fleshly form hast still ?" (" U'n pov fa e>.u<w<re; ") liter-
ally = " Tell me, art thou not dissolved 1" There is a belief
1 The French and Italian " Vaiia " is, I think, the truest equiva-
lent for sound, as the name is popularly pronounced.
NOTES. 259
among the Greeks that the bodies of the wicked after
death are delayed returning to their elements, their souls
being still confined and retained in them. The souls of
those who have been excommunicated or cursed not
being released from their bodies, are thus the phantoms
which appear to men. " After death may thy body not
be dissolved" is the closing form of excommunication in
an MS. in the church of St. Sophia of Thessalonica.
Mons. Pouqueville states that he read the following
therein : " He who has received any curse, or has not
fulfilled the pious commissions left him by his parents, his
body remains entire."
" When oil and earth, &c.," "Orav cov gi^avt Xddi.
When the deceased has been anointed with prayer oil
(analogous to the Roman extreme unction), the lamp
or glass into which the oil and wine were poured, with
what may remain in it, is thrown into the grave ; also
the ashes from the incense then used. This custom of
anointing is seldom now followed, but many statements
have been made by different writers relative to throwing
oil in the grave or over the deceased before placing the
lid on the coffin (which is done at the grave). See " Greek
Burial Customs," Folk Lore Journal, June 1884.
26o NOTES.
KLEISOVA.
" PURSUING the same system of reducing the outposts one
by one, they [the Satraps] resolved to assail the convent
of the Holy Trinity, a tower seated on the shoal of
Klissova, half a mile to the south-east of Messalonghi, and
garrisoned by 130 Eoumeliotes with four small guns,
under the command of Kizzo Tzavella. On the morning
of the 6th of April their rafts and gunboats opened a
heavy fire against it, while the Turks and Albanians of
Kutahi plunged with impetuosity into the swamp, and
wading across, tore down the exterior palisade; and having
no scaling ladders, and being unable to get into the tower,
recoiled in disorder, when the Roumeli Valesi, riding
forwards to animate his troops, was shot through the
thigh with a musket bullet. Ibrahim then ordered
Hussein Bey to advance at the head of two regiments of
Arabs, and with culpable obstinacy persisted until sunset
in exposing them to be butchered, the insurgents from the
loopholes picking off at pleasure the miserable Africans who
stood up to the middle in water, resigning themselves to
death. At length, after Hussein Bey and many other
persons of distinction were slain, the Pasha sounded a
retreat, whereupon Tzavella sallied out of his tower, boarded
and carried seven launches that were aground, and set up
a trophy composed of 1200 muskets and bayonets. This
was the bloodiest day Messalonghi had yet witnessed,
upwards of 1000 dead bodies of Turks and Arabs float-
ing about the lagoon, which was actually discoloured witli
gore ; thirty -five Greeks fell in defending Klissova, and
as many were wounded." Gordon, vol. v. p. 258.
NOTES. 261
[We feel pleasure inciting two signal instances of bravery
displayed by the insurgents. In the heat of the action, the
Khiliarch Drosinis (accompanied by a youth of seventeen
years of age, and nine soldiers), loading a canoe with water
and cartridges for the garrison of the tower, shoved off in
the face of the enemy's flotilla ; and although four of his
comrades were killed by a cannon ball, and five turned back,
pushed through to the islet. Constantine Trikoupi in a
passara (or pinnace) armed with a three-pounder, gallantly
engaged the Egyptian gunboats until she sank, when he
and his men swam to Klissova. Gordon.]
THE MAKKIAGE OF EAKTH.
" Holy anthem meet."
THE anthem referred to consists of the following troparia,
which occur in the marriage office of the Greek Church :
" Exult, Isaiah, for a virgin has conceived, and
brought forth a son, Emmanuel, God and man ; the East
is His name ; Him do we magnify, and call the Virgin
blessed.
" Ye holy martyrs, who have fought the good fight and
obtained the crown, pray unto the Lord to be merciful to
our souls.
" Glory be to Thee, Christ our God, the glory of the
apostles, the joy of the martyrs, whose preaching was the
Consubstantial Trinity." DR. KING'S Bites and Cere-
monies of the Greek Church, p. 250.
262 NOTES.
While the above troparia are being sung, the bride and
bridegroom, having their hands joined together and held
by the priest under his epitrachelion (stole), (with the
witnesses holding their crowns), walk in circular procession
three times, the circle being held to be symbolical of the
eternity of their union. Until this procession takes place,
the ceremony may be interrupted ; afterwards the union
is complete, and the couple are man and wife.
SAILOR'S WEDDING AT SPETZAI.
A MARRIAGE in a sailor's liouse is a very important event.
The invited guests begin to arrive at about noon, and as
soon as a guest appears he walks straight into the parlour
and takes the first empty seat. The groom is purposely
dressed in his coarsest clothes, his beard two or three days
old, and his stockingless feet in an old pair of shoes.
When the last guest has arrived, the important performance
of " shaving the groom " begins. A chair is placed in the
middle of the room, and the barber, with boy assistant,
enters with a prodigious quantity of soap, oils, and per-
fumes. . . . Then three or four of his intimate friends take
him into the next room, from which he emerges in half
an hour quite transformed in appearance. He is now ready
to start for the bride's house, preceded by two musicians,
one playing the violin and the other the banjo, followed
by all the guests. On reaching the bride's house, the
groom stops on the threshold and bows three times. His
future mother-in-law kisses him, and puts a coloured silk
NOTES. 263
handkerchief round his neck, which he puts in his pocket.
Each of the bride's female relatives lays one on his shoulder,
which he puts into a basket. The bride is then led out,
and the two processions walk in separate lines to the
church, &c.
"When the bride quits the parents' house, the bride-
groom's party leaves a live chicken in her place. Among
the Greek Islands, by N. Botassi, Greek Consul in New
York Oriental Church Magazine, March 1879.
METAMOEPHOSES.
"Folk of estate
And rich in all household gear."
" (te vo/xoxus/o " = with aristocrats. The rich owners of the
merchant vessels of Spetzai and Hydra (which latter
small island had from olden times always retained an
aristocratic form of government) were, before the war of
Liberation, the holders of ships which traded at all the
ports of the Mediterranean and the Black Sea. " In this
way, between the years 1800 and 1820, these islanders
made large fortunes, and the money was kept in cisterns
built for this purpose inside their houses. It was with
these monies that they armed and equipped the vessels
which so successfully contended against Turkey's three-
deckers." Among the Greek Islands.
264 NOTES.
MYKIOLOGIES.
" With wailing dirges weep " (p. 26).
MYRIOLOGIES = Mug/oXo'y/a, or waitings for the dead, are
still practised by the peasantry in outlying districts, and
occasionally by the same class in more civilised centres.
They are generally relatives or neighbours who perform
this service, but sometimes when these do not offer
hired mourners. In character they resemble the Irish
caione (pronounced keen) of former times, as will be
evident to any one who compares the writers upon these
customs as they came under their own observation. The
account given by Guille'tie're, who was present at the
funeral of a young Albanian, coincides exactly in the
feelings expressed in the improvised myriologies of the
assembled relatives with that given by Ross in his " Traits
of the Irish Peasantry." For myself, I can ever recall the
effect when, whilst living at the foot of Mount Lyca-
bettus in 1880, I heard a funeral wail break the stillness
of early dawn. I had seen at sunset the unrepressed
grief of the relatives of a woman who had just died in
a little cottage opposite, at the open door of which they
the women loudly complained and wept. No distance
of time can make dim the recollection of the mournful
and shrill myriology. It was but a minor cadence of
four semitones, alternately rising and falling, but it was
enough to express the lowest depths of sorrow.
SUPPLEMENTAL POEMS.
destruction ot psara. 1
(H KATA2TPOOH THN YAPHN.)
DlONYSIUS SOLOMOS.
rr)V oKo^avprj pd
rj A6%a fjkovdj^j,
a ra Xa/u-Trpa 7raXX?7/azpta,
Kat '<? Trjv KO^IT] arefjxivt (popel
Pevoftevo airo \t<ya ^oprapta,
'ITou el^av /J,eivei G rrjv eprffjiri <yfj.
ALONE on Psara's blackened height
Walks Glory musing o'er the site
Of many valiant daring deeds.
A crown upon her brow she wears
Made of the scant and withered weeds
The desolate earth in silence bears.
1 The destruction of Psara, and the devotedness of its inhabitants,
equal, if they do not surpass, the other tragic episodes of the War
of Independence. The number of captives made was comparatively
small. The larger amount was killed either when after hoisting
the Greek flag, with its motto, "Death or Freedom" ('EXeufopto. ?}
Odvaros) the magazine was voluntarily fired, or by flinging them-
selves into the sea. The remnant was reduced to slavery or mas-
sacred, the total being about 17,000.
S
( 266
Hntboula.
DlONTSIDS SOLOMOS.
v\d fiov, <y\viceia xpi]crr) e\7TiSa,
ANTHOULA ! darling ! hope's sweet golden flow'r !
I saw and loved thee in the selfsame hour !
On the green sward thine eyes were bended low
Bright with two little pearls by grief decked so,
Thou wept'st thy mother blaming her who left
Thee in the world an orphan and bereft.
Ah ! keep thee, dear ! from wand'ring in a wild
Where maidens oft by wily words are guil'd.
Where go'st thou, simple dove alone wilt be
'Mong snares outspread ? Anthoula come with me !
Ube rpban's 2>eatb.
(O 0ANATO2 TH2 OPOANH2.)
DIONYSIUS SOLOMOS.
JTe? fJ'OV, Oufjiaa-ai, dyaTrij /MOW, eKeivr) rrjv TraiBovXa
'OTrov^e crra %avda /xaXXta veodefAKm) (JLVprov\a;
TELL me dost thou remember, love, that charming
little maiden
Whose golden hair with freshly gather'd myrtle spray
was laden,
THE ORPHAN'S DEATH. 267
Whose mouth was like the virgin bloom of thirty
petalled roses l
Whose eyes were blue as are the tints which heav'n
above discloses ?
Who-*-ever when the shades of even fell, would
wander lonely
And ever near was following her little lambkin
only
Whom we upon the dreary shore beheld where she
was singing,
In plaintive tones, of all the beauty sweet Spring-
tide was bringing ?
Alas ! and as her song she sang she looked upon
each billow
With so much grief as though thoii said'st she
saw her grave's wet pillow.
Unhappy ! in the hollow road I met her as I
tarried
But four were they, who on their shoulders then the
maiden carried
And over all her corse were spread diffusing scented
showers
Rose, eglantine, 2 and hyacinth, with musk and violet'
flowers.
1 Tpiavrd(pv\\ov is the popular name for rose, but is also used
to represent a distinct kind "p65oi>" and "rpiat>Td(f>v\\ov" being,
as in this poem, coupled together. Theophrastus calls some roses
2 In calling the thirty-petall'd rose an "eglantine" I wish to
show that two distinct roses are meant by the poet.
268 THE ORPHAN'S DEATH.
Her eyes that erst shone out like stars were quenched
now for ever,
With crimson ribbons tied around her hands were
bound together.
Ay me ! as down the rock they came, those four the
maiden bearing
None but the little lamb was found who still by her
was faring.
But withered were the flowerets all that she for its
adorning
Herself would pluck and wreathe afresh with dawn
of every morning.
Alone the lambkin followed her and called upon
her bleating,
Ba-a ba-a still ba-a as though it were a very
child and greeting ;
The bell yet hanging at its neck as down the steep
it bounded,
Close close unto the narrow bier a silv'ry tin tin
sounded.
This this my dearest this was she the lovely
little maiden
Whose golden hair with newly gathered myrtle spray
was laden.
Mintage Sona (
ATHANASIUS CHETSTOPODLOS.
Kadapcorarais
Me Kicraov
COMELY maidens hither now
Each with ivy-wreathed brow
Back your sleevelets lightly fling
To the vintage hastening.
In the right hand's firmer clasp,
One and all the keen blade grasp,
In the left hand for your need,
Basket of the woven reed.
So with joyous laugh and song,
To the vineyard dance along
While our lips in kisses meet, 1
As we pluck the clusters sweet.
Hey for the grapes all fresh as dew !
Hey for the grapes of purple hue !
Luscious is the joy that blends
In the gifts good Bacchus sends !
1 See note to " The Seasons," p. 196.
( 270 )
Ubree favours (AI TPEIS
ATHANASIUS CHKTSTOPOULOS.
' Miav (bpaiav dyaTrovcra
Kal TO vevfjid TT?? ^rjTovaa."
FROM a maiden lov'd and fair,
Sign I seek with tender care,
That she deem me not amiss
Craving only one small kiss.
Softly beams her smile as she
This permission granteth me
Kissing her sweet mouth I'm fain
To pray for yet one kiss again.
This vouchsafing down she bends,
And a second favour lends,
When above my kiss I stay
And a third thereon I lay.
"A third!" crieth she, "thou'st ta'en thyself!
Now by Aphrodite's self
'Tis insolent and overbold,
Not e'en ' By your leave ' out-told ! "
" Light of mine, the crime efface,
And a fourth give thou for grace ;
Give't, and straight I'll swear to thee,
Insolent no more I'll be."
Laughs the wilful one outright
And my lips doth gaily smite
" Three the Graces are," doth say,
So with three beloved stay."
2 7 I
Ube H)esire (H EIHOTMIA).
ALEXANDER R. RHANGABES.
a <f>6pet
KoKKlVO \OV\Ov8' *)
A MAIDEN in her golden hair,
A red, red, rosy bloom doth wear ;
" give," I cried, " give it me,
None other gift I'll crave from thee."
She offreth it, all blushing o'er,
With hand as white as lily flow'r ;
" Give me thy hand give it me,
Nought else," said I, " I ask of thee."
Her soft hand glides into my own,
Awhile her eyes she casteth down ;
" Give me that look yea- give it me
No more, in troth, I'll seek from thee."
On me a glance like fire doth stay,
Yet on her mouth a smile doth play ;
" Upon those lips one kiss grant me
Then nothing more I ask of thee."
To me her lips straightway she leaves,
The while her snowy bosom heaves ;
" Give me that bosom too give me
Nought else I swear I'll seek from thee."
Then as the bending cypress bows,
Herself within my arms she throws.
" Now that I have thee hold thee here
No more nought else I ask for dear ! "
( =72 )
1bome SiCfeness (H NOSTAAFIA).
ANGELOS VLACHOS.
/j,ov evoi, rrjv 'epr')fj,r)v JMOV 6vpi8a."
WHAT breeze, bright strangers, to my window dreary
Sent you, adorning it with radiant wing ?
Who sent you joy hope bringing me aweary
Who bade you to my dwelling hie to sing
In gladsome choir, birds ?
Saw you not 'gainst my window it was snowing
How my hot breath had dimmed every pane ?
Thought you to find there boughs with blossoms
glowing,
The murmur of whose leaves might join thy strain
Of melody, dear birds ?
Or lest the forceful South to far lands carry,
Seek you the shelter of a friendly roof
Selling your song awhile in warmth to tarry
Or came ye for a crumb in my behoof
Poor hung' ring birds ?
Come let me warm you in my young arms folding
Close to a heart that throbs 'neath icy chill ;
Exiles ! in me an exile sad beholding
The joy I left here asking vainly still,
As ye seek warmth.
HOME SICKNESS. 273
Within your eyes I'll view a bright sun beaming
And from your bill draw breath of country dear
I'll kiss your wings, and find upon them gleaming
A drop of dew an Attic morning's tear.
Welcome, dear birds !
Tell me, from fatherland, fair travellers, speeding
Still shineth Phoebus in a heaven as blue ?
Still is the nightingale the chorus leading ?
Still chirps the cricket 'mong the grass and dew
Its merry lay ?
Like powder'd diamonds do the stars yet glister ?
Do orange trees their flow'rs on lovers pour
Their vows who 'neath their faithful shadows whisper ?
Fair is Earth's nuptial chamber as of yore ?
Tell me, sweet birds !
Yes yes your joyous warbling this is telling,
Your little eyes'- bright sparkle this bewray 'th,
Whilst my heart's depths within with your tones
swelling
Another mystic voice in joy' throbs say'th
Dear birds, 'tis true !
But tell me do those happy ones whom sweetly
Life, like a careful nurse, doth lull to sleep
Think yet of him once in their midst and meetly
Heave the deep sigh, whilst tears their eyelids steep,
Remembering me ?
Or lost my name behind my footprints fleeting,
Like the ship's track which bore me far away
274 HOME SICKNESS.
And home returned for me a stranger's greeting !
And my warm love see then their love's decay !
Shall this be mine ?
Silent ! alas thy silence I'm divining
In my friends' hearts love lives not as of yore !
On my friends' lips my name hath died out pining
Within their souls remembrance lives no more
Forgotten all !
Let them forget ! yet, strangers, if, returning
To Attic skies, when chilly North winds drive
Say that I asked for them my soul with yearning
\Vrestleth for in their love alone, I live !
In gladness you !
Tell them thro' stifling clouds I still seem viewing
My fatherland's clear sky wide-spread and fair ;
One sunlit ray, in fancy, brings renewing
I live in mist but breathe the Attic air,
birds ! around.
Tell them yet, birdies, 'stead of telling thither
On your brown pinions would you bear me on
Travelling with you as ye came travellers hither?
Ye fly alas ! by north winds borne along
A prosp'rous voyage Farewell !
275
on Georoe Ctennabfus.
From "Tears" (AAKPTA).
GEORGE ZALAKOSTAS.
TV? va fjiol Settyj rr)v yijv, fyris KpvTrrei rbv apiarov
irdvrwv ;
WHO now will show me the earth where the noblest
of all is concealed ?
Shadowy cypress I long to implant on the spot where
thou'rt lying,
Longing my knee low to bend, and to sow there a tear
and a flower.
Vainly ! alas ! all in vain for a trace of thy tomb
I am seeking,
Vainly I seek for a token wherein is some words'
consolation,
Here the apostle of light and the father of learning is
sleeping !
Name although none yet enough it would tell
me that there thou reposest
Though all ill-judging, the sod hath no ken of the
great one it shroudeth.
Close the Lyceums! Lament, ye Muses, with
sorrow unbounded !
276 ELEGY ON GEORGE GENNADIUS.
If in the days of our grief, lie was borne to his grave
with no honours
If by his people his country no marble be raised
to him ever !
If there be given nought else thou a wreath of
the dark cypress weaving.
Write of his life, Mnemosyne, mother revered of
the Muses !
Whilst but a child poor and needy athirst yet for
wisdom and learning,
Led by a destiny loving his feet unto Dacia which
guided,
There was he given to drink of the milk of the muses
by Lambros : 1
Those were the days of our weeping a people
enslaved thy burthen !
Yet didst thou cherish a twice linked hope in thy
tongue and religion.
Lost had Hellas been for ever of faith and her lan-
guage unmindful.
Glory to thee, Gennadius ! to thee, her brave son,
be the glory !
Twenty long years, thou, still waiting, wast teaching
the language of Plato
When for the fetters of slaves was exchanged the
sharp flashing falchion
When in the marvellous struggle, transformed was
the goad to a jav'lin.
1 Lambros Photiades.
ELEGY ON GEORGE GENNADIUS. 277
Then then at once from the school of wise Germany
hastily fleeing
Speddest thou straight to the land that was drenched
with the blood of the martyrs,
Where there were wrestling in conflict two principles
ever contending.
Here was the Truth there the Falsehood and ours
was the Christ theirs Mohammed !
What time the host of our spearmen the redoubtable
Favier 1 was leading
(He who the flag of the cross was but hoping o'er all
to see waving)
Cam'st thou to Karystos 2 with him, as orator earnest
and soldier
When the satrap the Arabian the country of
Pelops was smiting,
Others as careless beholders unmoved the great
danger were viewing
Standing alone in the midst of the champions in
wrathful contention,
Thou, by the power of reason assuaging their anger,
beheld them
Lowering straightway their weapons and each one
the other embracing.
Filled was the chalice at last as the counsel divine
had decreed !
1 General Favier, who had been with Mannont in the Napoleonic
wars, and who formed the first regular Greek corps, and under
whom Gennadius served.
8 Karystos, a small town in the southern extremity of Euboaa.
278 ELEGY ON GEORGE GENNADI US.
Strong were the comrades in arms who the Forte's
goodly host overwhelming,
Hither came bearing along of brave Maison 1 the
valiant battalion.
Trembling the Arab he fled while cursing us
then who were freemen !
Thirty long years yet again thou the well doing
high-priest of learning,
Thou who wilt aye be remembered the whole of
thy race wast instructing ;
Yet, for thy children, how scant is the morsel of
bread thou art leaving !
Close ye, desolate children, the darkening door of
his dwelling !
Close the Lyceums ! Lament, ye Muses, with
sorrow unbounded !
This was the last of my tears, and in this ray most
heartfelt bewailing.
1 General Maison was the commander of the French expeditionary
corps sent to occupy the Morea, and expel the Egyptian troops at
the close of the struggle.
NOTE TO ELEGY. 279
NOTE TO ELEGY.
GEORGE GENNADIUS, one of the most prominent figures in
the Greek struggle for Independence, was born at Doliana,
a small town in Southern Albania. His father, a priest
of the Orthodox Church, was the head of one of the oldest
Greek houses, claiming descent from the family of George
Gennadius Scholarius, the first Patriarch of Constanti-
nople after its conquest by the Turks, 1 which family had
originally emigrated from the island of Scio.
After his father's death, which occurred when he was a
child, Gennadius was sent to his uncle, the abbot of one
of the Greek monasteries in Wallachia. The Danubian
Principalities, governed at that time by Greek Hospodars,
were the refuge for all Greeks who thirsted alike for liberty
and learning. Those enlightened princes favoured the
spread of education, and established schools, which were
soon rendered famous by the teachings of Eughenios of
Doukas and Lambros Photiades. The latter great master
and patriot having discerned the fervent enthusiasm of the
young Epirote, and his devotion to learning, cultivated
1 There is in the British Museum a small but rare volume which
has upon its title page a woodcut which represents the meeting
between Sultan Mohammed II. and Gennadius outside the walls
of the conquered city. Gennadius was then only a simple monk,
but so renowned for his erudition as well as his piety that he was
called upon to explain to the Sultan the doctrines of the Christian
religion. By means of this exposition Gennadius was enabled to
allay the ferocity of the Sultan, and to secure for the Patriarchate
those immunities and privileges through which the Greek Church
kept alive the spirit of the nation under Turkish oppression. This
fact has been recorded by Gennadius himself in the volume referred
to, viz., " De synceritate Christiance fidei. Dialogus qui inscribitur
irfpl rrjs bdov TTJS ffbrrrjplas avdpwirwv, id est, DC via salutis huinance,"
published for the first time in Vienna, 1530, by James Alexander
Brassicamus.
280 NOTE TO ELEGY.
this love for the literature and glorious traditions of his
enslaved race ; and Gennadius soon became his favourite
pupil. He afterwards repaired to Germany to study medi-
cine, hoping therefrom to alleviate the untold miseries of
his countrymen. But there was in his character, as Avas
evinced by his after career, such an admixture of almost
feminine tenderness with the heroic nature, that, after
three lectures on anatomy in the dissecting room, he was
prostrated by sickness. Henceforth applying himself
solely to philosophical studies, and having taken honours
at the University of Leipsic, he returned to Bucharest,
and was unanimously chosen as the successor of his great
master, Photiades. In those days there was no more
honourable position to which the ambition of a young
Greek could aspire than that of teacher of his people
(A/ctffxaA.o{). In the absence of any political career, it
promised the intellectual and moral supremacy always dear
to the Greek mind, and gave scope for the exercise of an
immense and most beneficial influence. The lectures and
patriotic harangues of Gennadius became so celebrated
that they were attended by the Hospodar, the Boyars,
and their ladies, who at that time vied with each other
for distinction in Greek culture. It was during one of
his most impassioned harangues that a messenger entered
the lecture hall, bringing to the Prince the news that
Ypsilanti had crossed the Pruth and raised the standard
of revolt. Thereupon Gennadius, tossing his books and
papers into the fire, called upon his pupils to follow him
to the Greek camp. The " sacred battalion " of Ypsilanti,
recruited from the noblest Greek families, was unhappily
almost all slaughtered at Dragachan ; but out of that
bloodshedding burst forth the revolution in Greece proper.
Thither Gennadius went with the survivors, and was
foremost in the ranks of the first regular Greek corps
formed by the French Philhellene, General Favier. It
was at the battle of Karystos in Euboea that he first
distinguished himself as a soldier, fighting at the side of
his commander and friend. But it was chiefly by his
NOTE TO ELEGY. 281
wisdom in council and his oratory in the camp that he
won the admiration of his countrymen.
The Egyptian army which had invaded the Pelopon-
nesus was menacing Nauplia. Within that fortress was
crowded the remnant of the garrison of Missolonghi, with
many helpless widows and orphans. Poverty brought
discontent and internal discord, and the town was con-
sidered lost, when Gennadius stood up under the plane
tree in the market-place and harangued the dispirited
crowd with such power that the men felt again animated
to self-sacrifice and heroism. Money being wanted to
organise a cavalry corps, he placed his watch upon the
stone by the tree, and emptied thereon what few coins
he possessed, crying aloud, " Now do I bind myself pub-
licly to serve gratis as a teacher in the family of any one
who will here deposit some gold pieces." Thus he obtained
control over those who only wanted a stout heart to guide
them. He ordered all available horses to be seized ; money
flowed in freely ; the demoralised soldiery were formed
into an army, a cavalry regiment organised, and the Turks
repulsed in a sortie which ended that year's campaign.
For this and other signal services, Colocotronis and the
rest of the chieftains wished to confer upon him at the
end of the war the rank of a general. But, in that quiet
self-effacing manner which contrasted so forcibly with
his fiery zeal when the public good was to be served, he
declined it, saying that he knew not how to lead men to
battle, but only how to make them good citizens, and
devoted his efforts to organise that admirable system of
gratuitous public instruction which is one of the proudest
achievements of modern Greece. Later on he declined
the urgent invitations of King Otho to accept the post
of Minister, objecting again that he was fitted not for
politics, but instruction. His moral power was, however,
supreme in Greece, and his authority and influence was
felt Avherever the Greek language was spoken, both in
the East and the West. From every centre of national
activity he was appealed to. Bishops and Cabinet Ministers'
282 NOTE TO ELEGY.
were proud to call themselves his pupils ; and the word
of " the Master " was all-sufficient. Through his instru-
mentality many of the public institutions which adorn
Athens were raised and endowed by the munificence of
rich Greeks living abroad. Large sums were constantly
intrusted to him for these objects ; and although, from
his scanty means, the strictest frugality was necessitated
to rear his numerous family, he yet continually helped on
struggling students ; and when his wife, a scion of the
old and noble Athenian family Venizelos, withheld from
his too-open hand even his pocket-money, he could not
resist the appeals of the many young Greeks who gathered
round him, but gave out written orders for books, cloth-
ing, &c., thus incurring debts which, amounting to a large
sum, were paid after his death by his executors.
His influence was at its highest when, during the
Crimean war in 1854, Epirus, his native land, rose in
revolt. He was at once proclaimed President of the
Revolutionary Committee, and threw himself into the
sacred cause of liberation with all his old fire and enthu-
siasm. But the action of the Powers, ever opposed to
the extension of Greece, broke his heart. The excessive
toils to which he had exposed himself, regardless of his
advanced age, conjoined to the pain he felt at the sup-
pression of the revolt by the Powers, had exhausted his
powerful frame, and in November 1854 he fell a victim
to the cholera, which was supposed to have been brought
to the Piraeus by the foreign vessels who occupied that
port.
The consternation at Athens was so great, and the
number of interments so hastily made, that his funeral
was necessarily a hurried one, and it was feared that the
spot was not precisely marked. The indignation felt that
no tomb had been at once raised was great, and it is to
this painful incident that reference is made in the opening
lines of the Elegy.
[The above sketch of his father's life is from the pen of
Mr. J. Gennadius, the present Greek Minister, London.]
APPENDIX.
NOTES.
(See Note 3, page 40. )
3e0T^pi = vulture = hawk falcon, and metaphorically = soldier.
This word, more than any other perhaps, has been subjected by
translators to the most varying definitions. A bird of prey is, how-
ever, the correct signification ; and an unclean bird like the vulture
would seem to be specially indicated, if the word 'O^inrrepos, alluded
to in the Epistle of St. Barnabas (Hegele's edition of the Apostolic
Fathers, Tubingen, 1839), be identical with 3f</>rfyi. The passage
runs " Oi) <f>ayftr6e -xplpov, 6v5 b^virrepov, ovSe Kopaxa," Pars. i.
Pect. x. Falcon, however, or hawk, is more applicable, as used by
the poets as a synonym for warrior. A Greek lady well acquainted
with the dialect of ^Etolia and Acarnania derives it from the Latin
"Accipiter." I quote her words : "'0 vtcros (Koivus l Se(f>r^pi) five
elSos 'UpaKos (yepaKi) 'H Xeu ec/>r^oi ylverai IK TTJS Xcmi'i/cijs
Accipiter," and refers to Koracs, who, in his ""AraKTa" (l TO/JL. creX.
243, 2 TO/J.. creX. 128), explaining the word Eetprtpi, says it is a bar-
barous word "'E^efpT^piov KCU 'Setpr^ptov, j3a.pj3a.pos Xts a"xji]fjLa.-
Tiff/jLevr) curd rb Pu/j.ai'Kbi'." The word occurs in the poems of Ilro-
X07rpo5po/xos in the twelfth century. It has been suggested by Miss
M'Pherson that 'O^Trrepos may have been confused with Accipiter,
which would account for the position of the accent. Hawk, sparrow-
hawk, and falcon are the only admissible renderings for the word.
Alexander R. Rhangabe, in his Histuirc Litteraire de la Grece
Modcrne, vol. ii. p. 255, translating a passage from "To, KprjTiKa."
of Aphentoules, gives the following " Mais mon intrepide aiglon
n'a pas bongo d'un ponce de mes cotes " for the original " Ma iri6a.fj.r)
8 <T7rdpae T' dOavaro f<f>Ttpi. atrb r6 irbSi fj.ov Kovrd." Professor
Blackie, in an article entitled " Romaic Ballads " in the National
Mayazinc, 1857, translates the first three lines of the ballad of
"TsauiaJes" (No. cclvi. of Passow's Carmina Pop. Grcwice R.)
284 APPENDIX.
N' d/j.ovv irov\l va. irfTdya, va irdu oro Mfffo\6yyi
NA Siw, TTWJ tralyow rb airaOl, TTWJ fallow rb Tov<j
IIwj iro\efj.ovv rijs 'PovjJ.f\i)S r
Thus
" Were I a bird with wings, to Missolonghi would I fly,
To see how there with sword and shot they lay the Giaours low,
And sweep the bold Roumeliotes like hawks upon the foe."
Dr. Theodore Kind, in his Handworterbuch der Neugriechiachen,
S. (Leipzig, 1876), besides giving Geier as the German for EeQrt-
piov, gives a verb Se^repfyw = sie federn aus reissen.
The most strange interpretation of this word is to be found
in Passow's vocabulary to his Carmine "3e</>r^>t (eairr^piryos),
Angelus sex alls ornatis." Pouqueville also, who resided fifteen
years in Epirus, in his ornithological list at the end of his Ifistoirc
has the following : " Coucou, cucullus canorus, KdicKvlf, H ACKOKTO,
KOKOV, Se0r^/>t, Tpiywvovpdrot."
" PARTRIDGE "a favourite simile.
(See Note 2, page 40.)
THE number of love-songs of the people in which the partridge is
employed as a tender epithet, and partridge-eyed (irepSiKo/jL/jiATa) as
a complimentary designation, is considerable. The two following
examples may suffice to show how it is applied. The first is " The
Klepht in Love " ('0 'Epwrei/^oj K.\<prTjs), from the collection of
Michaelopoulos, p. 191 :
, Kal ff^fiepa. v
ytd, Svi> fJM.r6.Kia ya\avd, yia dvi> y\v
" This night I have not slept, and to-day I'm very drowsy,
Because of two blue eyes of two eyes looking sweetly.
Some dark night I will steal them, when no moon's rays are
shining,
And bear them to the hill away, to the top peak of the mountain ;
And at midnight I will kiss them will kiss them oft and quickly,
While the partridge sings its song, and the nightingale too
singeth.
Three times the lambs have bleated, five times have cried the
peafowl.
Awake ! my girl with partridge eyes awake, and come thou
with me,
And I will kiss the little mole that on thy cheek thou wearest."
APPENDIX. 285
The next is "The Cool Spring" ('II Kpv6/3pv<ri), Michaelopouloa,
P- 351
" 2apdvra irtvre KU/MOKCUJ, aa.pa.vTO. T/>e?s
6tv elSav TO. /xord/cta fiov TTJC Kbp-rjv it ayairovvf."
" Five-and- forty Sundays, and three-and-forty Mondays
Mine eyes had never looked upon the girl whom I loved dearly,
And yesterday I saw her, who amid the dance was dancing ;
Her eyes were cast adown, but all over she was smiling,
And once, when 'mong the many more who passed in line before
me,
She opened her lips, and then to me she murmured softly,
' To the cool spring I will come to-night, and there we will
betroth us.'
What can she to her mother say, and how can she deceive her ?
What pretext can she find to go alone unto the fountain ?
' Mother, no water have we now wherewith to drink this evening.'
' Daughter, there doth the pitcher stand canst thou alone not
venture ? '
She took the vase and ran along like as a partridge swiftly.
Her heart beat loudly on the way as to herself she reasoned
1 If at the spring alone I am, and find my love there sleeping,
What can I do that he may see me ? how can I him awaken ?
To kiss him I should be ashamed I tremble to caress him
With water to besprinkle him I fear, lest it might chill him."
She found her lover wide awake, alone, beside the fountain.
She found her mother fast asleep, for late had grown the
evening."
THE BELL. (Td ^/j.av8poi>.)
(See Note, page 94.)
etiam apud Turcas degentes, quippe qui Turcico Imperio
subiecti sunt, campanis carere iubentur, campa umq. loco, tabula
quadam lignea, malleis duobus ligneis prsenotata, quam Symandrum,
vel Synandrum ab hominum Ccutu conuocando dictum appellant, &
Ferrea item lamina cum ferreo malleolo concinnata quam' AyiocridTipov
Hagiosiderum hoc est, sanctum ferrum, vocant, vtuntur, dum
nonnulli tanquam Campanarij ante fores Tenipli in edito loco
Populum ad Templum conuocant, ut Hieronymus Magius dicto
in libello scriptum reliquit. ' Campanorum autem vsum a Turcis
vetitum esse Graecis, constat eo, qufrd Campanarum sonus nimiam
securitatem, et auctoritatem prafeferat, et valde ad coniuratoruin,
aut seditioaorum animus, quaimiis longe, lateque disperses contra
286 APPENDIX.
Turcam do improuiso congregandos existat idoneus." " De Cam-
pania Commentarius, F. Angelo Roccha, Episcopo Jagastensi, 1612,
cap. I.
Stephen Durant, in his RilfSus JScclesue, compares the destruction
of bells by Huguenots and Saracens " De Religione Turcarum
vsum Campanarum nequaquaui admittunt ; Illisq. etiam ipsis Chris-
tianis, qui sub ditione eorum viuunt, prohibent." He also shows
how similar in this respect is the conduct of Turks, heretics, and
demons " Quae pro-fecto, cum ita sint, Haereticae ac Turcae magnam
similitudinam & conuenientiam habent cum Daemonibus qui sonitum
campanarum tantoljere abhorrent."
FESTIVAL DANCES AND DANCE-SONGS.
(Allusions to pages 75, 238, 249.)
THE great festival of Easter still affords the traveller an oppor-
tunity for seeing the picturesque dancing of the women in every
village ; but Megara, from its accessible distance from Athens,
draws the greatest number of visitors. The beauty of the women
of Megara, of which I heard so much from Athenian gentlemen,
appeared to me over-estimated. Their good looks consist in a fresh
complexion and fine eyes, to which may be added the charm of a
very modest demeanour, their eyes being mostly downcast through-
out their dancing. The dance is but a slow rhythmical movement ;
and as the line of girls advances and retires, holding together by a
kerchief in their hands, the waving of a long line of some twenty,
thirty, or more girls and women in their holiday costume of em-
broidered jackets, skirts, and aprons, and floating gauze veils sur-
mounting their coin-decked brows, 1 has doubtless a charming and
poetical effect in the scenery in which it takes place. The songs
which accompany these dances, sung in a low voice, are very varied
in character, and some very old. In the collections of Aravandinos
and Passow they are to be found of every type. Many are as expres-
sive of hatred to the Turk as the two lines, page 76, in "Our
Grandmother's Girlhood." The most of them are, however, love-
songssome plaintive, but generally sprightly or saucy, in which
the old Greek personification of natural objects (irpocrwiroiroita.)
is prominent lemons, oranges, birds, &c., being used as loving
epithets or types. As many of these have been presented in " Folk-
Songs," I will merely allude to one that, in its connection with the
so-called gun-mythg, has received some attention from writers on
that subject. A maiden likens herself in her beauty to the sun in
1 " yvaXuTT&pa " three or four rows of silver " wapaduv," paras.
APPENDIX. 287
its power and glory ; the latter withering the green herbage when
it appears in all its strength the former, when she goes forth in
her ornaments, annihilating the Pallikars ; for example, in " The
Little Rose" (T6 1piavra<t>v\d.KL), the girl, having decked herself
with twelve rows of sequins (<f>\upia) six rows twined around
her neck, and six round her head calls upon the sun to come out
with her and shine " shine as I will shine," adding, " iroX\a?s
KapStais va Kaif/u " " I shall burn up many hearts "
" Kai ffii av \afj,\f/T]s ij\i4 fiov
Mapaive TO. "xoprapia
K' eyw av \d/j.\[fu ij\i4 fj.ov
~M.apa.ivu> Tra\\7)i<dpia."
The two following distichs, which Mr. Drosines heard at the
dancing in Eubcea, contain very favourite conceits, and are not in
the usual collections, although they possess many with similar
ideas :
" II 6a\aaffa rpuei Sovva Kal TO. Sowa \eiovrdpia
K' i) fj.avpona.Ta.is Kal !~avOais rpue ra Tra
The sea consumes the hills, and the hills the savage beasts,
And the black-eyed and the fair ones consume the Pallikars."
" Zap KTecKTTT/s *av0ov\a fiov 56s /LLOV rdiro
I\d va. ra Trau's rbv xpi/cnico va (priaffi) 5a/cri/X/5ia."
" When thou combest thyself, Xanthoula, give me the combings,
and I will take them to the goldsmith, that he may make me ring
therewith."
THE PANAGIA.
(Page 141.)
ACHILLES PARASCHOS in this little poem has embodied in a cer-
tain tender simplicity the more familiar aspect of affection, a
borne by the Greek peasant to the Blessed Virgin, rather than the
reverential devotion taught in the Orthodox Church as to one
" more honourable than the Cherubim, and beyond compare more
glorious than the Seraphim." It contains all the character of the
sacred folk-songs of this type. As an illustration of the manner
in which the archaic custom of votive offerings still lingers in the
Eastern, as in the Western (Latin) Church, I give the following
from the Anthology of Michaelopoulos, entitled "'H Bcw/coTroOXo. "
(The Shepherdess) :
288 APPENDIX.
" Mid. Bor/cojroOXa f>o5oir\a.<r(jLtvT)
T' apvl TIJS yjivet OTTJJ' epijfjud."
" A ruddy, rosy shepherd maiden
Lost her lamb in pathways lone,
And despairing, down the hillside
Running, calls with piteous moan
" 'Levke ! l Light of mine ! where art thou ?
Speak' st not hear'st not me deplore ?
Ah, dear God ! I've lost my lambkin !
Pitiest thou not, nor lov'st me more?"
" Through the valley hastes the damsel
With her loosened golden hair,
And 'mid tears, her hands uplifting,
Crieth to Panagia fair
" ' Panagia ! sweetest virgin,
Show me where doth Levke hide,
Soon then soon with wreathen flowers,
Tapers white I'll bring beside.
" Panagia ! do this marvel,
And a lamb I'll make for thee
All of silver, which suspended
Shall o'er thy sacred picture be.'
" When God brought again the dawning,
Dancing, laughed the shepherd maid,
For, held within her arms, was fondled
Like a dove the lambkin strayed."
Notwithstanding the endeavours of folk-lorists to identify the
archaic worship of Athene by the Pagan Greeks as one with the
reverence paid to the Blessed Virgin (llavayla) by the modern
Greek peasant, I cannot but regard their deductions otherwise
than forced and overstrained. The desire to prove too much is
very evident. No Greek peasant, however ignorant, could confuse
his orthodox teaching so far as to confound the respect or devotion
the Orthodox Church impresses upon him as due to the Qevrbxos
with the idea of sacrifices as paid in olden times to Athene. To
roast a lamb to her on Good Friday is almost too preposterous an
idea to be alluded to, had not it been made an opportunity for a
reviewer to animadvert upon the odd mixture of Pagan and Chris-
tian ideas jumbled together in a folk-song : by error in translation. 2
= fair one white. 2 Bookseller, June 1885.
UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LIBRARY
Los Angeles
This book is DUE on the last date stamped below.
Form Ly-40m-7,'56(C790s4)444
3 1158 00089 6208
UC SOUTHERN REGIONAL LIBRARY FACILITY
A 001 303 532 4