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HUNGARIAN FOLK-SONGS. 289
" Oh, let me go, or I shall fall, And in this place will die." But Kuris heeded not her call, And fire lit in his eye.
" Play, gypsy, play more loud and fast, Play till your tight strings break. Though feet may fail, the dance shall last For the mad music's sake."
" Oh, let me go ! Oh, let me go ! My treasure, let me loose, The red blood from my heart does flow, And fills my soaking shoes."
" I will not loose you till you die, My treasure and my dove. Not once but twelve times o'er have I Been spurned in asking love."
" Oh, mother, open wide the gate, Of your leaved garden thick, The young men with a litter wait, Bearing thy daughter sick.
" Oh, mother, open wide the gate, Of your rose garden red, The young men with a litter wait, Bearing thy daughter dead."
Oh, sorrow has her father dear,
The mother a heartbreak. They did not heed their daughter's fear
Her lover's rage to wake.