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326 FOLK-SONGS OF ROUMANIA. |
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is alluded to in the charming ballad, which recalls the best of those of Spain on similar subjects, with its delicate feeling and graceful expressions:—
HE THAT TOOK NOTHING.
See how it raineth ! and the corn is cut upon the plain, And I have left my sickle, too, forgotten 'mid the grain. Now there it lies — ah, woe is me ! — beneath the falling rain.
Of all the lads that joined the dance each took some sign
from me — One took my girdle, and thou know'st full well which that
may be, The one, my sister of the cross, I fashioned with thee.
My chain, sweet sister of the cross, another took ; what needs To tell thee which — the one which hath two strings of golden beads.
Another took my flower from me — and which one dost thou
know ? It is, my sister of the cross, the floweret that doth blow In autumn days among the grass, where thick the plum-trees
grow.
But only one took naught away, and know'st thou, sister, who ? He of whom I often spake of thee, when I most silent grew, He, my little sister of the cross, it is I love so true.
Then quick run after him, he dwells beside the mill-pool deep, And through his slumbers murmuring on, their watch the
waters keep, O happy water, that may sing and lull him in his sleep. |
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