THE HAWK AND THE DOVEFOLK SONGThe Hawk said to the Dove, “My dear,Why dost thou shed tear after tear,That go to swell the streamlet clear?”The Dove said to the Hawk, “I fearThat spring is gone and autumn’s here;The rills have ceased their glad career,The leaves and flowers are dead and sere,The partridges no more we hear;So I shall weep in my despair,And from my eyes shed many a tear:—How shall I find my babies’ fare?”He said, “Weep not this autumn drear,For spring will come another year,And sunshine bring the world its cheer,And Hope shall for the poor appear.Upon my pinions thee I’ll bearWhere those tall trees their summit rear,And high upon those mountains bareI’ll build a nest with tender care,I’ll make for thee a dwelling there,—A hearth laid in that rocky lair,With chimney open to the air;The smoke shall to the clouds repair—And to the South Wind fly our care!”Autumn gave place to springtime fair,The rills were loosed on their careerAnd went to swell the streamlet clear,Like blood-drops from the boulders bare.Bright yellow flowers the hills did wear,And violets, with perfume rare,And flowers of countless colours fair;And birds with music filled the air,And bleating lambs called everywhereTo God for all His love and care.ArtavasdArtavasd“When thou ridest forth to huntOver the free heights of Ararat,The Strong Ones shall have thee,And shall take thee upOn to the free heights of Ararat.There shalt thou abide,And never more see the light.”Moses of Khorene.
THE HAWK AND THE DOVEFOLK SONGThe Hawk said to the Dove, “My dear,Why dost thou shed tear after tear,That go to swell the streamlet clear?”The Dove said to the Hawk, “I fearThat spring is gone and autumn’s here;The rills have ceased their glad career,The leaves and flowers are dead and sere,The partridges no more we hear;So I shall weep in my despair,And from my eyes shed many a tear:—How shall I find my babies’ fare?”He said, “Weep not this autumn drear,For spring will come another year,And sunshine bring the world its cheer,And Hope shall for the poor appear.Upon my pinions thee I’ll bearWhere those tall trees their summit rear,And high upon those mountains bareI’ll build a nest with tender care,I’ll make for thee a dwelling there,—A hearth laid in that rocky lair,With chimney open to the air;The smoke shall to the clouds repair—And to the South Wind fly our care!”Autumn gave place to springtime fair,The rills were loosed on their careerAnd went to swell the streamlet clear,Like blood-drops from the boulders bare.Bright yellow flowers the hills did wear,And violets, with perfume rare,And flowers of countless colours fair;And birds with music filled the air,And bleating lambs called everywhereTo God for all His love and care.ArtavasdArtavasd“When thou ridest forth to huntOver the free heights of Ararat,The Strong Ones shall have thee,And shall take thee upOn to the free heights of Ararat.There shalt thou abide,And never more see the light.”Moses of Khorene.
THE HAWK AND THE DOVEFOLK SONGThe Hawk said to the Dove, “My dear,Why dost thou shed tear after tear,That go to swell the streamlet clear?”The Dove said to the Hawk, “I fearThat spring is gone and autumn’s here;The rills have ceased their glad career,The leaves and flowers are dead and sere,The partridges no more we hear;So I shall weep in my despair,And from my eyes shed many a tear:—How shall I find my babies’ fare?”He said, “Weep not this autumn drear,For spring will come another year,And sunshine bring the world its cheer,And Hope shall for the poor appear.Upon my pinions thee I’ll bearWhere those tall trees their summit rear,And high upon those mountains bareI’ll build a nest with tender care,I’ll make for thee a dwelling there,—A hearth laid in that rocky lair,With chimney open to the air;The smoke shall to the clouds repair—And to the South Wind fly our care!”Autumn gave place to springtime fair,The rills were loosed on their careerAnd went to swell the streamlet clear,Like blood-drops from the boulders bare.Bright yellow flowers the hills did wear,And violets, with perfume rare,And flowers of countless colours fair;And birds with music filled the air,And bleating lambs called everywhereTo God for all His love and care.
The Hawk said to the Dove, “My dear,Why dost thou shed tear after tear,That go to swell the streamlet clear?”The Dove said to the Hawk, “I fearThat spring is gone and autumn’s here;The rills have ceased their glad career,The leaves and flowers are dead and sere,The partridges no more we hear;So I shall weep in my despair,And from my eyes shed many a tear:—How shall I find my babies’ fare?”He said, “Weep not this autumn drear,For spring will come another year,And sunshine bring the world its cheer,And Hope shall for the poor appear.Upon my pinions thee I’ll bearWhere those tall trees their summit rear,And high upon those mountains bareI’ll build a nest with tender care,I’ll make for thee a dwelling there,—A hearth laid in that rocky lair,With chimney open to the air;The smoke shall to the clouds repair—And to the South Wind fly our care!”Autumn gave place to springtime fair,The rills were loosed on their careerAnd went to swell the streamlet clear,Like blood-drops from the boulders bare.Bright yellow flowers the hills did wear,And violets, with perfume rare,And flowers of countless colours fair;And birds with music filled the air,And bleating lambs called everywhereTo God for all His love and care.
The Hawk said to the Dove, “My dear,
Why dost thou shed tear after tear,
That go to swell the streamlet clear?”
The Dove said to the Hawk, “I fear
That spring is gone and autumn’s here;
The rills have ceased their glad career,
The leaves and flowers are dead and sere,
The partridges no more we hear;
So I shall weep in my despair,
And from my eyes shed many a tear:—
How shall I find my babies’ fare?”
He said, “Weep not this autumn drear,
For spring will come another year,
And sunshine bring the world its cheer,
And Hope shall for the poor appear.
Upon my pinions thee I’ll bear
Where those tall trees their summit rear,
And high upon those mountains bare
I’ll build a nest with tender care,
I’ll make for thee a dwelling there,—
A hearth laid in that rocky lair,
With chimney open to the air;
The smoke shall to the clouds repair—
And to the South Wind fly our care!”
Autumn gave place to springtime fair,
The rills were loosed on their career
And went to swell the streamlet clear,
Like blood-drops from the boulders bare.
Bright yellow flowers the hills did wear,
And violets, with perfume rare,
And flowers of countless colours fair;
And birds with music filled the air,
And bleating lambs called everywhere
To God for all His love and care.
ArtavasdArtavasd“When thou ridest forth to huntOver the free heights of Ararat,The Strong Ones shall have thee,And shall take thee upOn to the free heights of Ararat.There shalt thou abide,And never more see the light.”Moses of Khorene.
ArtavasdArtavasd“When thou ridest forth to huntOver the free heights of Ararat,The Strong Ones shall have thee,And shall take thee upOn to the free heights of Ararat.There shalt thou abide,And never more see the light.”Moses of Khorene.
Artavasd
“When thou ridest forth to huntOver the free heights of Ararat,The Strong Ones shall have thee,And shall take thee upOn to the free heights of Ararat.There shalt thou abide,And never more see the light.”
“When thou ridest forth to hunt
Over the free heights of Ararat,
The Strong Ones shall have thee,
And shall take thee up
On to the free heights of Ararat.
There shalt thou abide,
And never more see the light.”
Moses of Khorene.