GUZLA. ALL night the music of the Guzla falls Its plaintive note love's sweet complainings calls II All night the gipsy, lying in the grass, And prays Waking, the moon admires ; the clouds before the stars that pass Not to blot out their fires ! III All night beneath the low caressing boughs Nor sleep, but whisper of each other's vows, IV The scent of grass is in their matted locks, Their swarthy brows: the earth her children rocks The brooding quiet of the mystic East They cling to Nature, for she spreads their feast VI All night the music of the Guzla tells All night in reverie the gipsy dwells THE FAIR BOSNIAN. I BESIDE the turbid stream she stood: She would have graced the noblest shrine That ever pagan built, before The gods fled to return no more. II Her limbs were weary, and she leaned Her face, and sought to hide her tears. With thousand others she had fled Through vale, o'er mountain; ever dread Possessed her, and she looked not back, III I read her story thus, for we I stood transfixed; I did not heed IV She knew not what they said, nor raised V I loved her as she slept: I loved Wept as I heard her mournful cry. |