WEDDING SONG CYCLE

(From various districts. A selection of folk-songs made into a song cycle, some being fragmentary)

Marusenka with her father pleadeth:“My beloved father, close the gates,Close the gates!Do not let the Duke[4]come nigh—Let not Wasylenko by.”“Child beloved! Nay—he entreatsThat I let him in, let him in.Like the khmel, like the hop vinesRound the gates, see, he twines!At the Table, like barwēnok.... Who allowedHim to sit there? Proud—Like a falcon,[5]proud!”

Marusenka with her father pleadeth:“My beloved father, close the gates,Close the gates!Do not let the Duke[4]come nigh—Let not Wasylenko by.”

Marusenka with her father pleadeth:

“My beloved father, close the gates,

Close the gates!

Do not let the Duke[4]come nigh—

Let not Wasylenko by.”

“Child beloved! Nay—he entreatsThat I let him in, let him in.Like the khmel, like the hop vinesRound the gates, see, he twines!At the Table, like barwēnok.... Who allowedHim to sit there? Proud—Like a falcon,[5]proud!”

“Child beloved! Nay—he entreats

That I let him in, let him in.

Like the khmel, like the hop vines

Round the gates, see, he twines!

At the Table, like barwēnok.... Who allowed

Him to sit there? Proud—

Like a falcon,[5]proud!”

The sun as a wheel now mounts the skies:Marusenka’s ensphered by Paradise.“This Eden, O maiden, who gave to thee?”“God and my father!” sayeth she.

The sun as a wheel now mounts the skies:Marusenka’s ensphered by Paradise.

The sun as a wheel now mounts the skies:

Marusenka’s ensphered by Paradise.

“This Eden, O maiden, who gave to thee?”“God and my father!” sayeth she.

“This Eden, O maiden, who gave to thee?”

“God and my father!” sayeth she.

In the orchard, in the cherry orchardWe passed but now, young Wasyl stood.He raised his cap in a lightsome mood.He raised it and listened; he thought he heardSong of a bird, song of a bird—Sweet, sweet song of Zuzula[6]winging.But see! It was maids weaving wreaths and singing.

In the orchard, in the cherry orchard

We passed but now, young Wasyl stood.

He raised his cap in a lightsome mood.

He raised it and listened; he thought he heard

Song of a bird, song of a bird—

Sweet, sweet song of Zuzula[6]winging.

But see! It was maids weaving wreaths and singing.

IVTHE COMING OF MEESCHANI ON SUNDAY TO THE WEDDING

(The Meeschani or Master Merchants of old held themselves in high esteem, looking down upon the peasants)

Let us drive—we will drive across the fields;Drive uphill and down the dales,Across the sands, across the stones.They will hear us coming in the vales;The sands shall murmur, the stones shall prattle,As ’neath our horses’ feet they rattle;We will be talked of everywhere.Ah, how the villagers will stare:“See now, Meeschani driving there!”

Let us drive—we will drive across the fields;

Drive uphill and down the dales,

Across the sands, across the stones.

They will hear us coming in the vales;

The sands shall murmur, the stones shall prattle,

As ’neath our horses’ feet they rattle;

We will be talked of everywhere.

Ah, how the villagers will stare:

“See now, Meeschani driving there!”

The Kalina[7]grows in a little valley;It has blossomed with a white, white flower.The bridesmaids went to pluck a boughBut empty-handed come they now.Its plucking lay not in their power.But there went Marusenka,There the little Duchess went.The Cranberry her blossoms lent.Home came Marusenka to the bright Room of Welcome.Home to the pretty maidens then came she.Before her little face she set the flowers,And she looked at them long and earnestly.Then of her father asked Marusenka:“Like this Kalinonka shall I be?”“As long as thou stayest by my hearth-side,Child, thou’lt be like that Cranberry.“But when thou goest upon thy journeyThy beauty, alas, will fall from thee.O youthful one, from thy braids so goldenThy beauty swiftly away shall flee!”

The Kalina[7]grows in a little valley;

It has blossomed with a white, white flower.

The bridesmaids went to pluck a bough

But empty-handed come they now.

Its plucking lay not in their power.

But there went Marusenka,

There the little Duchess went.

The Cranberry her blossoms lent.

Home came Marusenka to the bright Room of Welcome.Home to the pretty maidens then came she.Before her little face she set the flowers,And she looked at them long and earnestly.

Home came Marusenka to the bright Room of Welcome.

Home to the pretty maidens then came she.

Before her little face she set the flowers,

And she looked at them long and earnestly.

Then of her father asked Marusenka:“Like this Kalinonka shall I be?”“As long as thou stayest by my hearth-side,Child, thou’lt be like that Cranberry.

Then of her father asked Marusenka:

“Like this Kalinonka shall I be?”

“As long as thou stayest by my hearth-side,

Child, thou’lt be like that Cranberry.

“But when thou goest upon thy journeyThy beauty, alas, will fall from thee.O youthful one, from thy braids so goldenThy beauty swiftly away shall flee!”

“But when thou goest upon thy journey

Thy beauty, alas, will fall from thee.

O youthful one, from thy braids so golden

Thy beauty swiftly away shall flee!”

VITHE WREATH

Wreath, my wreathOf Barwēnok,[8]Kryschati![9]I have woven you, just you alone.I have not worn you out with wearing;Saturday afternoon I wore you,On Sunday all the dear day long,On Monday just one little hour ...I would have you painted, that I might keep youTo dance beneath but one night more;I would have you gilded, that so enwreathèdI might walk as in days of yore.

Wreath, my wreath

Of Barwēnok,[8]Kryschati![9]

I have woven you, just you alone.

I have not worn you out with wearing;

Saturday afternoon I wore you,

On Sunday all the dear day long,

On Monday just one little hour ...

I would have you painted, that I might keep you

To dance beneath but one night more;

I would have you gilded, that so enwreathèd

I might walk as in days of yore.

VIIBAKING THE KOROVAI[10]

My Korovai, so heaven-sweet!Moulded with water from seven wells;Made out of seven stacks of wheat.And now our oven with golden shoulders,Our big oven with silver wingsThe festal loaf shall bake for us,The Korovai shall make for us.

My Korovai, so heaven-sweet!Moulded with water from seven wells;Made out of seven stacks of wheat.

My Korovai, so heaven-sweet!

Moulded with water from seven wells;

Made out of seven stacks of wheat.

And now our oven with golden shoulders,Our big oven with silver wingsThe festal loaf shall bake for us,The Korovai shall make for us.

And now our oven with golden shoulders,

Our big oven with silver wings

The festal loaf shall bake for us,

The Korovai shall make for us.

To her little brother the Duchess cried:“Brother, I pray thee, saddle thy horse!Haste to the fields that stretch so wide,Get for me the horses black,Drive them before thee on the way back.Then let them loose among my flowers.Let them browse as around they course,And what they eat not in my bowersThe while they do in my garden stayOn their clutching hoof they may carry away.Let the stamping feet on my flowers fallThat none be left when I am gone;No joy be there for my bridesmaids all—So lonesome Mother won’t weep for me:‘There are her flowers—but where is she!’”

To her little brother the Duchess cried:

“Brother, I pray thee, saddle thy horse!

Haste to the fields that stretch so wide,

Get for me the horses black,

Drive them before thee on the way back.

Then let them loose among my flowers.

Let them browse as around they course,

And what they eat not in my bowers

The while they do in my garden stay

On their clutching hoof they may carry away.

Let the stamping feet on my flowers fall

That none be left when I am gone;

No joy be there for my bridesmaids all—

So lonesome Mother won’t weep for me:

‘There are her flowers—but where is she!’”

(The enveloping hood or white scarf, the mark of the wife)

The white Pava[11]is flying—See all the waiting ring there,The maids who laugh and sing there—But all the girls it passes,Passes by them allTo fallOn Marusenka only.“Decide now if thou dost regret,Young Marusenka,What thou hast done! The maids that jest,Of their long plaits are still possessed.They will not take thee back now,Marusenka!”

The white Pava[11]is flying—See all the waiting ring there,The maids who laugh and sing there—But all the girls it passes,Passes by them allTo fallOn Marusenka only.

The white Pava[11]is flying—

See all the waiting ring there,

The maids who laugh and sing there—

But all the girls it passes,

Passes by them all

To fall

On Marusenka only.

“Decide now if thou dost regret,Young Marusenka,What thou hast done! The maids that jest,Of their long plaits are still possessed.They will not take thee back now,Marusenka!”

“Decide now if thou dost regret,

Young Marusenka,

What thou hast done! The maids that jest,

Of their long plaits are still possessed.

They will not take thee back now,

Marusenka!”

XSONG OF THE BRIDEGROOM’S FRIENDS

“Open the gates—the little gates!”“Who is it calls? Who is it waits?”“Attendants of the bridegroom we—”“Ah, well! Now what may your gift be?”“We offer you our golden bees—”“Think you so small a thing would please?Have you naught else for offering?”“Behold the great gift that we bring:The maiden, wearing on her browThe Ruta-wreath,[12]comes with us now.”

“Open the gates—the little gates!”“Who is it calls? Who is it waits?”“Attendants of the bridegroom we—”“Ah, well! Now what may your gift be?”

“Open the gates—the little gates!”

“Who is it calls? Who is it waits?”

“Attendants of the bridegroom we—”

“Ah, well! Now what may your gift be?”

“We offer you our golden bees—”“Think you so small a thing would please?Have you naught else for offering?”

“We offer you our golden bees—”

“Think you so small a thing would please?

Have you naught else for offering?”

“Behold the great gift that we bring:The maiden, wearing on her browThe Ruta-wreath,[12]comes with us now.”

“Behold the great gift that we bring:

The maiden, wearing on her brow

The Ruta-wreath,[12]comes with us now.”

Clanged the keys on the table;Outside the horses neighed.“O my mother, my dear mother!”Cried the little maid.“’Tis all over, all over!No more am I free.So sad is it to be married!”And she wept bitterly.“Send you your dear daughterFar away?” mournèd she.“But I follow, my husband,Lo, I follow thee!“The man whom I wed nowA stranger is he.Yet knoweth my fatherTo whom he gives me!”

Clanged the keys on the table;Outside the horses neighed.“O my mother, my dear mother!”Cried the little maid.

Clanged the keys on the table;

Outside the horses neighed.

“O my mother, my dear mother!”

Cried the little maid.

“’Tis all over, all over!No more am I free.So sad is it to be married!”And she wept bitterly.

“’Tis all over, all over!

No more am I free.

So sad is it to be married!”

And she wept bitterly.

“Send you your dear daughterFar away?” mournèd she.“But I follow, my husband,Lo, I follow thee!

“Send you your dear daughter

Far away?” mournèd she.

“But I follow, my husband,

Lo, I follow thee!

“The man whom I wed nowA stranger is he.Yet knoweth my fatherTo whom he gives me!”

“The man whom I wed now

A stranger is he.

Yet knoweth my father

To whom he gives me!”

When the bridal party is going to the bridegroom’s house

As it came to the dawning I awoke:Swift I looked in the Courtyard grey—There but now her fine sleigh stayed,While the prancing horses neighedThat bore my Marusenka away.“Am I no more your child?” she said,“That from your side you send me soJust ere the coming of the night?Give me a friend in this my plight—My songster Solowi[13]must go.“For its sweet piping I would hearAt peep of day to waken me—She, my new mother, will not call,Instead, she slanders—cruel words all—‘Useless this bride as rotten tree!’”

As it came to the dawning I awoke:Swift I looked in the Courtyard grey—There but now her fine sleigh stayed,While the prancing horses neighedThat bore my Marusenka away.

As it came to the dawning I awoke:

Swift I looked in the Courtyard grey—

There but now her fine sleigh stayed,

While the prancing horses neighed

That bore my Marusenka away.

“Am I no more your child?” she said,“That from your side you send me soJust ere the coming of the night?Give me a friend in this my plight—My songster Solowi[13]must go.

“Am I no more your child?” she said,

“That from your side you send me so

Just ere the coming of the night?

Give me a friend in this my plight—

My songster Solowi[13]must go.

“For its sweet piping I would hearAt peep of day to waken me—She, my new mother, will not call,Instead, she slanders—cruel words all—‘Useless this bride as rotten tree!’”

“For its sweet piping I would hear

At peep of day to waken me—

She, my new mother, will not call,

Instead, she slanders—cruel words all—

‘Useless this bride as rotten tree!’”

In the green garden is fresh-fallen snow;Horses are galloping to and fro.A mother follows the hoof-marks deep:“My Marusenka, where dost thou sleep?“Help me, O Lord, her steps to trace!Home I would take her from this place.“Come, Marusenka, come to me!If now ill-treated thou mayst be.”She is not in her small white bed.She sleeps upon the straw instead.“In what straw, pray, now lieth she?”She lieth in the rough barley.“Whose barley pillows now her breast?”A neighbour’s barley gives her rest.

In the green garden is fresh-fallen snow;Horses are galloping to and fro.

In the green garden is fresh-fallen snow;

Horses are galloping to and fro.

A mother follows the hoof-marks deep:“My Marusenka, where dost thou sleep?

A mother follows the hoof-marks deep:

“My Marusenka, where dost thou sleep?

“Help me, O Lord, her steps to trace!Home I would take her from this place.

“Help me, O Lord, her steps to trace!

Home I would take her from this place.

“Come, Marusenka, come to me!If now ill-treated thou mayst be.”

“Come, Marusenka, come to me!

If now ill-treated thou mayst be.”

She is not in her small white bed.She sleeps upon the straw instead.

She is not in her small white bed.

She sleeps upon the straw instead.

“In what straw, pray, now lieth she?”She lieth in the rough barley.

“In what straw, pray, now lieth she?”

She lieth in the rough barley.

“Whose barley pillows now her breast?”A neighbour’s barley gives her rest.

“Whose barley pillows now her breast?”

A neighbour’s barley gives her rest.

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