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TRANSLATION OF THE ROMAIC SONG,
“ Μπενω μες ’τσ' περιβόλι
THE SONG FROM WHICH THIS IS TAKEN IS A GREAT FAVOURITE WITH THE YOUNG GIRLS OF ATHENS, OF ALL CLASSES. THEIR MANNER OF SINGING IT IS BY VERSES IN ROTATION, THE WHOLE NUMBER PRESENT JOINING IN THE CHORUS. I HAVE HEARD IT FREQUENTLY AT OUR "Xópot" IN THE WINTER OF 1810-11. THE AIR IS PLAINTIVE AND PRETTY.
I ENTER thy garden of roses,
Yet trembles for what it has sung;
But the loveliest garden grows hateful
My heart from these horrors to save :
As the chief who to combat advances
Thus thou, with those eyes for thy lances,
Hast pierced through my heart to its core.
By pangs which a smile would dispel ?
Now sad is the garden of roses,
And mourns o'er thine absence with me.
WRITTEN BENEATH A PICTURE.
DEAR object of defeated care!
Thine image and my tears are left.
'T is said with Sorrow Time can cope ;
THE kiss, dear maid! thy lip has left,
Thy parting glance, which fondly beams,
The tear that from thine eyelid streams
I ask no pledge to make me blest
Whose thoughts are all thine own.
Nor need I write - to tell the tale
By day or night, in weal or woe,
WITHOUT a stone to mark the spot,
And say, what truth might well have said By all, save one, perchance forgot, Ah, wherefore art thou lowly laid? By many a shore and many a sea Divided, yet beloved in vain ; The past, the future fled to thee To bid us meetCould this have been a word, a look That softly said, "We part in peace," Had taught my bosom how to brook,
· ne'er again!
With fainter sighs, thy soul's release. And didst thou not, since Death for thee
Prepared a light and pangless dart, Once long for him thou ne'er shalt see,
Who held, and holds thee in his heart? Oh! who like him had watch'd thee here?
Or sadly mark'd thy glazing eye, In that dread hour ere death appear, When silent sorrow fears to sigh, Till all was past? But when no more 'T was thine to reck of human woe, Affection's heart-drops, gushing o'er, Had flow'd as fast as now they flow. Shall they not flow, when many a day In these, to me, deserted towers, Ere call'd but for a time away,
Affection's mingling tears were ours?
Ours too the glance none saw beside ;
The pressure of the thrilling hand; The kiss, so guiltless and refined
That Love each warmer wish forbore; Those eyes proclaim'd so pure a mind,
Even passion blush'd to plead for more. The tone, that taught me to rejoice,
When prone, unlike thee to repine; The song, celestial from thy voice,
But sweet to me from none but thine; The pledge we wore I wear it still, But where is thine? ah, where art thou? Oft have I borne the weight of ill, But never bent beneath till now! Well hast thou left in life's best bloom The cup of woe for me to drain, If rest alone be in the tomb,
I would not wish thee here again; But if in worlds more blest than this
Thy virtues seek a fitter sphere, Impart some portion of thy bliss,
To wean me from mine anguish here.