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FOLK-SONGS OF ROUMANIA. 323 |
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The river last night swept the bridge away, And so we must wade through the river to-day. The maidens sing as they wade, and are gay.
A little sister the dead child had,
Since it died little sister has grown more glad,
And saith to the mother : " Its own sweet smile
The one that is dead unto me did give,
And all the life that it might not live
Now lives in me." But the mother, the while
Fell a-weeping, and bowed her head,
And remembered the child that was dead.
The river last night swept the bridge away, And so we must wade through the river to-day. The maidens sing as they wade, and are gay.
There are other sources of grief than that of simple death, whose sorrow can weep itself away, the tragedies of crime and sin and the agonies of remorse. There is an occasional touch of that ferocity which rejoices in a bloody revenge, as would be natural to a passionate people, and which is manifested in the Song of the Dagger.
The dagger at my belt that dances
Whene'er I dance : But when I drink the foaming wine cup,
Then it grows sad ; For it is thirsty, too, the dagger,
It thirsts for blood.
But for the most part the songs which relate to violence and bloodshed are the expressions of the |
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