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TODAY IS VIDOVDAN_KOSOVO IS SERBIA_

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Boyana:
The Maiden of Kossovo
Early rose the maiden of Kossovo,
Early rose she on a Sunday morning,
Rose before the brilliant sun had risen.
She has rolled the white sleeves of her robe back,
Rolled them back up to her soft white elbows;
On her shoulders, fair white bread she carries,
In her hands two shining golden goblets,
In one goblet she has poured fresh water,
And has poured good red wine in the other.
Then she seeks the wide plain of Kossovo,
Seeks the noble Prince’s place of meeting,
Wanders there amongst the bleeding heroes.
When she finds one living midst the wounded
Then she laves him with the cooling water,
Gives him, sacramentally, the red wine,
Pledges with her fair white bread the hero.

Fate at last has led her wand’ring footsteps
Unto Pavle Orlovitch, the hero,
Who has borne the Prince’s battle-standard.
From his gaping wounds the blood is streaming,
His right hand and his left foot are severed--
And the hero’s ribs are crushed and broken,
But he lingers still amongst the living.
From the pools of blood she drags his body
And she laves him with the cooling water,
Red wine, sacramentally, she gives him,
Pledges then with fair white bread the hero.

When at length his heart revives within him,
Thus speaks Pavle Orlovitch, the hero:
“Oh dear sister, Maiden of Kossovo,
What great need compels thee here to wander,
Thou, so young, amongst the wounded heroes?
What dost thou upon the field of battle?
Dost thou seek a brother’s son, or brother,
Dost thous seek perchance an aged father?”
Answered him the Maiden of Kossovo:
“Oh dear brother! Oh thou unknown warrior!
None of my own race am I now seeking,
Not a brother’s son nor yet a brother,
Neither do I seek an agéd father.
Wast thou present, oh thou unknown warrior;
When for three whole weeks to all his army
Prince Lazar the Sacrament was giving
By the hands of thirty holy fathers,
In the splendid church of Samodreha?
When Lazar and all the Serbian army
There the Holy Sacrament have taken,
Three Voyvodas last of all did enter:
First of them was Milosh, the great warrior,
Ivan Kossanchich was close behind him,
And the third, Toplitza Milan, followed.

“I by chance stood then within the doorway
When there passed young Milosh, the great warrior,
In the whole world no more splendid hero;
On the ground his clanking sabre trailing,
Silken cap with proudly waving feathers,
Many-coloured mantle on his shoulders
And around his neck a silken kerchief.
Then he gazes round and looks upon me,
He takes off his many-coloured mantle,
Takes it off, and gives it to me, saying:--
‘Here, oh Maiden, is my coloured mantle,
By it thou wilt keep me in remembrance,
By this mantle shall my name live with thee.
Now, dear Maid, must I go forth and perish
There where camps the noble Prince’s army;
Pray to God for me, dear Maid, my sister,
That I may come back again in safety.
And that all good fortune may attend thee
I will marry thee to my friend Milan,
Him whom God has given me as brother,
My friend Milan who is my sworn brother.
In God’s name and good Saint John’s, I promise
I will be a groomsman at they wedding.’

“Ivan Kossanchitch was close behind him,
In the whole world no more splendid hero;
On the ground his clanking sabre trailing,
Silken cap with proudly waving feathers,
Many-coloured mantle on his shoulders
And around his neck a silken kerchief,
On his hand a golden ring is shining.
Then he gazes round and looks upon me,
Takes the golden ring from off his finger,
Takes it off and gives it to me, saying:--
‘Here hast thou my ring of gold, oh Maiden,
By it thou wilt have me in remembrance,
By this gold ring shall my name live with thee.
Now, dear maid, must I go forth to perish
There where camps the noble Prince’s army;
Pray to God for me, dear Maid, my sister,
That I may come back again in safety.
And that all good fortune may attend thee
I will marry thee to my friend Milan,
Him whom God has given me as brother,
My friend Milan who is my sworn brother.
In God’s name and good Saint John’s, I promise
I myself will give thee to the bridegroom.’

“Then Toplitza Milan follows after,
In the whole world no more splendid hero;
On the ground his clanking sabre trailing,
Silken cap with proudly waving feathers,
Many-coloured mantle on his shoulders
And around his neck a silken kerchief,
On his hand a golden ring is shining
And upon his arm a golden bracelet.
Then he gazes round and looks upon me,
From his arm he takes the golden bracelet,
Takes it off and gives it to me, saying:--
‘Here, oh Maiden, is my golden bracelet,
By it thou wilt have me in remembrance,
By this gold ring shall my name live with thee.
Now, dear maid, must I go forth to perish
There where camps the noble Prince’s army;
Pray to God for me, dear soul, my darling,
That I may come back again in safety;
Then, dear Maid, that good luck may attend thee,
I will take thee for my true belovéd.’

“And then went away these mighty leaders,
And to-day I seek them here, oh brother,
Seek them here, upon the field of battle!”

Pavle Orlovitch then makes her answer:
“Oh dear sister, Maiden of Kossovo,
Dost thou see, dear soul, those battle-lances
Where they lie most thickly piled together?
There has flowed the life-blood of the heroes;
To the stirrups of the faithful horses,
To the stirrups and the girths it mounted,
Mounted to the heroes’ silken girdles,
And the three have fallen there together.
Now return thee to thy fair white castle
Lest thy skirts and sleeves with blood be spattered.”

To the hero’s words the maiden listens,
Down her white face are the fast tears falling;
She returns then to her fair white castle.
From her white throat pour her lamentations:
“Woe is me, what fate I bear within me,
I but touch the young and tender sapling
And the fair green pine must surely wither.”
 
 
 

Boyana:
The Miracle of Tsar Lazar
When the Tsar Lazar has been beheaded
On the fair and pleasant field Kossovo,
Not a Serbian warrior beheld it,
But a Turkish boy, a slave, was present,
Born a slave, but of a Serbian mother;
And he speaks thus to the Turkish warriors:
“Woe to me, oh Turks, oh my dear brothers,
For this is the head of a great noble,
And it were a sin ’gainst God Almighty
If the eagles and the ravens pecked it [2],
If upon it men and horses trampled.”...
Takes the head then of Lazar the holy
Wraps it in his many-coloured mantle,
Bears it to the waters of a fountain.
There it lay for forty lovely summers,
While the body lay upon Kossovo,
Pecked not by the eagles and the ravens,
Trampled not by horses or by heroes.

Now dear God, all thanks to Thee be given!
On a day there came some youthful teamsters
From the white and pleasant town of Skoplje,
In their waggons they bear Greeks and Bulgars,
They will bring them unto Nish and Vidni,
And they spend the night upon Kossovo.
There together sup the youthful teamsters
And when they have supped they all grow thirsty.
Then amongst themselves they light a lantern,
Light a lantern with its shining candle,
And they seek for water on Kossovo.

By a hazard, chance has led their footsteps
Led their footsteps to the chilly fountain,
And thus speaks one of the youthful teamsters:
“See the moonlight shining in the water.”
Speaks the second of the youthful teamsters:
“It is not the moonlight shining, brothers.”
But the third is silent, no word says he,
And towards the east he turns him straightly
And the one true God he loudly praises,
Praises God and Nicholas the Holy:
“Help me God, and Nicholas be witness!”
Then he wades into the chilly fountain
And he takes the head from out the waters,
Takes the head of Tsar Lazar the holy.
Then he places it upon the green grass,
And he fetches water in a goblet,
And the three young teamsters drink together.

When they looked again upon the black earth
Lo, the head was not upon the green grass,
But it moved along upon Kossovo,
Holy head towards most holy body,
And the two were once more joined together.

When the white day dawned upon the morrow,
Then the youthful teamsters brought the tidings,
Brought the tidings to the holy fathers.
And there came three hundred holy fathers,
And with them there came twelve pious bishops,
And four patriarchs came with the bishops
From Jerusalem the holy city,
And from Petch, and from Constantinople.
They put on their sacerdotal vestments,
They put on their vestments, and their head-dress,
In their hands the Ancient Books they carried,
Solemn prayers upon the plain they chanted,
And they kept unceasing holy vigil—
Three dark nights and three days, kept their vigil.
Never sitting down and never resting,
Never lying down and never sleeping,
Questioned they the Tsar Lazar, the holy,
Unto which foundation they should bear him;
Unto Krushedol or to Apóvo,
Unto Jaska or to Beshenova,
Unto Rakovatz of Shishatovatz,
Unto Kuveždin or unto Djivsha,
Or if he would go to Macedonia:
But to neither would the saint be carried—
He preferred to all his own foundation,
He preferred his splendid Ravanitza
At the foot of the high mountain Kuchaj;
For Lazar built there to God a temple
While he lived and ruled amongst his people,
Built a church for his own soul’s salvation,
Built with his own bread and his own treasure,
Not with tears of widows and of orphans.
 
 
 

Boyana:
Serbian Epic Poetry
Tsar Lazar and Tsaritsa Militsa
Tsar Lazar sits at the evening banquet,
With him sits the Tsaritsa Militsa;
Says to him the Tsaritsa Militsa:
“Tsar Lazar, oh golden crown of Serbia,
Thou wilt go to-morrow to Kossovo,
And wilt lead the men-at-arms and nobles,
But thou leavest no one in the castle
Who for me could carry hence a message
To Kossovo, and bring back your greeting.
Thou dost lead away my nine dear brothers,
Thou dost lead away nine Jugovitchi;
Leave me one at least of these my brothers,
That I have a brother left to swear by.”

Then the Serbian prince Lazar makes answer:
“Oh dear lady, Tsaritsa Militsa,
Tell me thou then, which of thy nine brothers
I shall leave with thee in thy white castle.”
“Leave me Boshko Jugovitch, oh monarch!”
And the Serbian prince Lazar makes answer:
“Oh dear lady, Tsaritsa Militsa,
When the white day dawns again to-morrow,
When the day dawns and the bright sun rises
And the great gates of the city open,
Walk then, lady, to the city portals;
That way goes the army in its splendour,—
All the battle-horses with their lancers.
Boshko Jugovitch will ride before them,
In his hand will bear the battle-standard,
And then stay with thee in thy white castle.”

When the dawn has broken on the morrow,
And the great gates of the city open,
Then walks out the Tsaritsa Militsa;
She stands there beside the city portals
And beholds the army in its splendour:
All the battle-horses with their landers,
Boshko Jugovitch before them riding.
Of the finest cloth-of-gold his garments,
And the standard with a cross emblazon’d,
Oh my brothers, falls in folds around him,
Covers him and rests upon his charger.
On the standard, lo, a golden apple,
From the apple rise the golden crosses,
From the crosses hang long golden tassels
And the tassels droop upon his shoulders.
Closer comes the Tsaritsa Militsa,
Catches at the war-horse by its bridle,
Puts her arm around her brother’s shoulder
And begins to whisper to him softly:
“Boshko Jugovitch, oh thou my brother,
Now to me the Tsar Lazar doth give thee,
And thou shalt not ride with him to battle,
Shalt not ride with him unto Kossovo;
And he bids me tell thee with his blessing
Thous shalt give to whom thou wilt the standard
And remain with me here in Kroushévatz,
That I have a brother left to swear by.”
Boshko Jugovitch then makes her answer:
“Go Militsa, to thy fair white tower,
For I may not stay with thee, my sister,
Nor let from my hand the battle-standard
That the Tsar gave to me at Kroushévatz;
For I will not that my comrades mock me:
See the coward! See the coward Boshko!
He who rode not with Lazar to battle,
Dared not ride with him unto Kossovo,
There to shed his blood for Christ his honour,
For the Holy Cross to fight and perish.”
And he spurred his charger through the gateway.

Came the Jug Bogdan her father, riding,
And with him rode seven Jugovitchi,
But not one of them did look upon her....
And when they had passed out through the gateway
Far behind there came her brother Voïn
Leading with him Tsar Lazar’s great chargers
Covered with their shining golden trappings.
She holds Voïn’s grey horse by its bridle,
Puts her arm around her brother’s shoulder,
Holds him thus, and whispers to him softly:
“Voïn Jugovitch, oh thou my brother,
Now to me the Tsar Lazar doth give thee,
And he bids me tell thee with his blessing
Thou shalt give to whom thou wilt his chargers,
And remain with me here in Kroushévatz
That I have a brother left to swear by.”
Voïn Jugovitch then makes her answer:
“Go Militsa, to thy fair white tower,
I a hero, may not leave my comrades,
Nor give up the Tsar’s steeds to another,
Even knowing that I die in battle.
I go now, oh sister, to Kossovo,
There to shed my blood for Christ his honour,
For the faith to die there with my brothers.”
And he spurred his charger through the gateway.

Seeing this, the Tsaritsa Militsa
Falls down lifeless on the cold hard roadway;
And behold, the Tsar himself comes riding.
When he sees the Tsaritsa Militsa
Down the Tsar’s face are the fast tears falling,
He looks to his right hand and his left hand,
Calls to him then Goluban, his servant:
“Goluban, oh thou my faithful servant,
Now dismount thee from they swan-white charger,
By her fair white hands lift up my lady,
Carry her unto the slender tower;
From thine oath to me hath God now loosed thee,
Thou shalt not ride with me to Kossovo,
But shalt stay behind here, in the castle.”
When the servant Goluban has heard this,
Down his white face are the fast tears falling,
He obeys, and stays his swan-white charger,
By her fair white hands lifts up his lady,
Brings her then unto the slender tower;
But his heart cannot endure the order
That he rides not with his lord to battle,
And he goes back to his swan-white charger,
Mounts him, and rides swiftly to Kossovo.

On the morrow when the dawn has broken,
Flying, come two ravens, two black ravens [2],
Flying from the wide plain of Kossovo;
They alight upon the slender tower,
On the tower of Lazar the Glorious;
Croaks the first, begins to speak the second:
“Is this Tsar Lazar’s white slender tower,
In this tower is there none that liveth?”
In the tower nobody has heard them,
Saving only Tsaritsa Militsa;
She comes down from her white slender tower,
And she asks the ravens, two black ravens,
“Whence do you come flying here this morning?
Tell me, have you seen two mighty armies?
Do these mighty armies fight together?
Which of these two armies doth now conquer?”
Answer her the ravens, two black ravens:
“God be with you, Tsaritsa Militsa,
We come from the wide plain of Kossovo,
On the plain we saw two mighty armies,
Yesterday the armies fought together,
And both monarchs perished in the fighting.
Of the Turkish hordes a few are living,
And a few are living of the Serbians,
Living, but sore wounded all, and bleeding.”

As the two black ravens thus were speaking,
Lo, came riding Milutin the servant,
In his left hand, see, he bears his right hand,
He has countless wounds upon his body,
And his horse is bathed in blood beneath him.
Questions him the Tsaritsa Militsa:
“Milutin, what evil thing hath happened?
Hast thou left thy lord upon Kossovo?”
Milutin the servant makes her answer:
“Help me to dismount, I beg thee, lady,
Bathe me also with the cooling water,
And with red wine let my lips be moisten’d,
For my wounds have nearly overcome me.”
Then the Tsaritsa Militsa helps him,
Bathes his cruel wounds with cooling water,
And his lips with good red wine she moistens.
When the servant’s heart revives within him
Questions him the Tsaritsa Militsa:
“Milutin, how went it on Kossovo?
Where Lazar, the Prince of Serbia, perished,
Where the Jug Bogdan, my father, perished,
And where perished his nine sons, my brothers;
Where the brave Voyvoda Milosh perished,
Where Vuk Brankovitch with them has perished,
And where perished mighty Ban Strahinya.”

Milutin the servant tells his story:
“All remain, oh lady, on Kossovo,
Where has fallen Tsar Lazar the Glorious.
There are broken many battle-lances,
Serbian lance and Turkish, both are broken,
But more Serbian lances broke than Turkish
While defending Tsar Lazar, oh lady,
Glorious Tsar Lazar, the lord of Serbia.
And the Jug Bogdan has fallen also,
And with him eight Jugovitchi, lady;
There where no man would desert his brothers
Whilst a single one could move his weapon,
Boshko Jugovitch still fought, oh lady;
Raged the battle round him on Kossovo
And he threw the Turks into disorder
As the falcon strikes the homing pigeons.
And there perished mighty Ban Strahinya,
There too, perished Milosh, oh dear lady,
By Sitnitsa, by the chilly water,
There where very many Turks have fallen.
Milosh slew the Turkish Sultan, Murad,
And he also slew of Turks twelve thousand [1].
May God bless the woman who has borne him!
He left glory to the name of Serbia
While there lives a people and Kossovo.
And what of th’ accurséd Vuk, you ask me!
Curséd he, and curséd she who bore him,
Cursed his race unto all generations!
He betrayed the Tsar upon Kossovo,
Led away with him twelve thousand warriors,
Mighty men-at-arms, oh my dear mistress.”
 
 
 

Boyana:
Serbian Epic Poetry
Kossanchitch and Milosh
(a fragment)
Milosh speaks to Kossanchitch his brother:
“Ivan Kossanchitch, oh thou dear brother,
Hast thou spied upon the Turkish army,
Seen how many warriors came from Turkey [3]?
Can we offer battle to the army?
Can we hope to vanquish it in battle?”

Ivan Kossanchitch thus speaks in answer:
“Milosh Obilitch, oh thou my brother,
I have spied upon the Turkish army
And a mighty army came from Turkey.
Were we grains of salt instead of warriors
Yet we could not salt that army’s dinner.
Fifteen days through Murad’s hordes I wandered
But I could not find an end or limit. [1]
From Mramór right up to Suvi Javor,
And from Jávor right up to Sazliya,
From Sazliya to the bridge of Chemer
And from Chemer to the fortress Zvechan,
And from Zvechan right away to Chechan,
And from Chechan up above the mountains [4]
Stand the Turks in serried ranks together;
Horse to horse, and hero touching hero,
Battle-lances like a magic mountain,
Like a cloud their battle-standards streaming
And their tents stretched like the snow in winter.
If the gentle rain should fall from heaven
Not one inch of ground could then receive it,
So thick stand the horses and the heroes.
Murad fell upon the plain of Mazgit,
Took by quick assault Lab and Sitnitsa.”

Then speaks Milosh Obilitch in answer:
“Ivan Kossanchitch, oh thou my brother,
Where has Sultan Murad pitched his tent there?
I have sworn to slay the Sultan Murad
And I’ll plant my foot upon his false throat.”

Ivan Kossanchitch thus answers Milosh:
“Thou art surely mad, oh thou my brother!
There where thickest press the Turkish warriors
Stands the tent of mighty Sultan Murad.
If thou hadst the swift wings of the falcon
And couldst swoop from out the clear blue heavens
Still thy swift wings could not save thy body.”

Then to Ivan swears the hero Milosh:
“Ivan Kossanchitch, oh thou dear brother,
Not by birth, and yet like my own brother,
Do not tell this story to our monarch,
It would but disquiet and alarm him
And then all the army might be frightened.
Speak unto our monarch in this manner:—
There has come an army out of Turkey
Big enough that we should give it battle,
But it will be light for us to conquer.
It is not an army made of heroes,
But old monks and pilgrims dressed as warriors,
Artisans are there, and slim young merchants,
Those who never yet have seen a battle,
But who for their bread have joined the army.
Say too—but whatever size the army
It has fallen very sick and ailing,
And the horses too all greatly suffer,
Some are lame, and none are in condition.”
 
 
 

Boyana:
 


Copyright © 1999, Mark D. Lew
Serbian Epic Poetry
The Fall of the Serbian Empire
From Jerusalem, the holy city,
Flying came a swift grey bird, a falcon,
And he carried in his beak a swallow.

But behold and see! ’Tis not a falcon,
’Tis the holy man of God, Elias,
And he does not bear with him a swallow,
But a letter from God’s Holy Mother.
Lo, he bears the letter to Kossovo,
Drops it on the Tsar’s knees from the heavens,
And thus speaks the letter to the monarch:
“Tsar Lazar, thou Prince of noble lineage,
What wilt thou now choose to be thy kingdom?
Say, dost thou desire a heav’nly kingdom,
Or dost thou prefer an earthly kingdom?
If thou should’st now choose an earthly kingdom,
Knights may girdle swords and saddle horses,
Tighten saddle-girths and ride to battle—
You will charge the Turks and crush their army!
But if thou prefer a heav’nly kingdom,
Build thyself a church upon Kossovo,
Let not the foundations be of marble,
Let them be of samite and of scarlet....
And to all thy warriors and their leaders
Thou shalt give the sacraments and orders,
For thine army shall most surely perish,
And thou too, shalt perish with thine army.”

When the Tsar had read the holy letter,
Ponder’d he, and ponder’d in this manner:
“Mighty God, what now shall this my choice be!
Shall I choose to have a heav’nly kingdom?
Shall I choose to have an earthly kingdom?
If I now should choose an earthly kingdom,
Lo, an earthly kingdom is but fleeting,
But God’s kingdom shall endure for ever.”

And the Tsar he chose a heav’nly kingdom,
And he built a church upon Kossovo,—
Did not bring foundation stones of marble
But he brought pure samite there and scarlet;
Summon’d there the Patriarch of Serbia,
Summon’d there with him the twelve archbishops.
Thus he gave the warriors and their leaders
Holy Sacrament and battle orders.

But no sooner gave the Prince his orders
Than the Turkish hordes swept on Kossovo.
And the Jug Bogdan leads there his army,
With his sons, the Jugovitch—nine brothers,
His nine sons like nine grey keen-eyed falcons,
Each of them commands nine thousand warriors,
And the Jug Bogdan commands twelve thousand [1].

With the Turks they fight there and they struggle,
And they smite and slay there seven pashas.
When the eighth advances to the battle
Then doth Jug Bogdan, the old knight, perish,
With his sons the Jugovitch—nine brothers,
His nine sons like nine grey keen-eyed falcons,
And with them doth perish all their army.

Moved their army three Mernyachevichi:
Ban Uglyesha and Voyvoda Goïko,
And the third, the mighty King Vukáshin;
And with each were thirty thousand warriors,
With the Turks do they there fight and struggle,
And they smite and slay eight Turkish pashas.
When the ninth advances to the battle
Then there perish two Mernyachevichi,
Ban Uglyesha and Voyvoda Goïko;
Many ugly wounds has King Vukáshin,
Turks and horses wade in blood above him,
And with him doth perish all his army.

Moved his army then Voyvoda Stefan;
And with him are many mighty warriors,
Many mighty warriors—sixty thousand.
With the Turks do they there fight and struggle,
And they smite and slay nine Turkish pashas.
When the tenth advances to the battle,
There doth perish the Voyvoda Stefan,
And with him doth perish all his army.

Then advances Tsar Lazar the Glorious,
With him moves a might host of Serbians,
Seven and seventy thousand chosen warriors.
They disperse the Turks upon Kossovo,
No time had the Turks to look upon them,
Still less time had they to stem the onslaught;
Tsar Lazar and all his mighty warriors
There had overwhelm’d the unbelievers,
But—the curse of God be on the traitor,
On Vuk Brankovitch,—he left his kinsman,
He deserted him upon Kossovo:
And the Turks o’erwhelmed Lazar the Glorious,
And the Tsar fell on the field of battle;
And with him did perish all his army,
Seven and seventy thousand chosen warriors.

All was done with honour, all was holy,
God’s will was fulfilled upon Kossovo.

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