Classic Poem

Strahin was ban of Banska that by Kósovo doth stand;
And such another falcon there is not in the land.
He rose up in the morning:
“Ho, all my knaves, give heed!
Get ye down to the stables and saddle me my steed.
Deck him out fair and seemly, and gird him with the girth;
For hark and hear me, gallants, I go roving o'er the earth.
Weary shall be the milk-white steed, before I shall alight
Where dwell my wife's good kindred in Krúshevats the white—
Her brave old father Yug Bogdan and her good brothers nine,
Her gallant kin shall take me in and cheer me with the wine.”
Then forthwith all the servants unto the ban gave heed,
And from the lordly stable led the white falcon steed.
And then the brave Ban Strahin himself the steed arrayed;
He set on him a saddle of velvet and brocade,
Redder than sunset water, more shining than the sun!
So the good ban put on the steed that rich caparison.
So rode he forth that morning, nor ever did alight
Till he came in to his wife's kin in Krúshevats the white,
Where late the realm men stablished. And him Yug Bogdan saw,
And with his nine gray hawks came on to greet his son-in-law.
They waited little for him, but clasped him one and all;
And while the servants took the steed, they brought the ban to hall.
Down sat they at the ready board, and spake fair words and fine;
And man and maid came in apace to serve or pour the wine.
Then all those goodly Christians their thirst began to quench;
Yug Bogdan set Ban Strahin beside him on the bench;
Upon his right he set him, his sons on the other hand;
But the remnant of his people at the table-foot must stand.
The servants served before them. Nine daughters had that lord,
And each fair daughter in her turn served deftly at the board.
They served before their father; they served their lords that tide;
But most of all Ban Strahin, for their sister was his bride.
One servant stood before them to serve the red wine up;
In a gold cup he measured it—nine measures held that cup.
Much courtesy was there to see and guests from near and far;
Brothers as many came as to a banquet of the tsar.
Long was Ban Strahin's tarrying; long, long did he abide,
Dwelling among his wife her kin in pleasure and in pride.
The guests that were in Krúshevats a bitter cry they made,
And came to old Yug Bogdan and unto him they prayed:
“We kiss thy silken garments, thou art our lord and chief;
We therefore pray thy kindness to do us this relief.
Bring Strahin thy good son-in-law to our castles and our courts,
That we may do him honor as with his worth consorts.”
Before that mirth was over was long enough, I trow.
Long the ban tarried, ere came forth the tidings of his woe.
But lo, in the fair morning, when the warm sun beat down,
A lad bore a white letter from Banska, the little town—
Tidings from his old mother! He set it on his knee;
Therein was many a bitter and dreadful thing to see,
For there her curse is written most plain in Strahin's sight:
“Where art thou, son? Foul fall the wine in Krúshevats the white!
Evil is the wine and full of shame for thee and thy wife's kin.
Behold what woes against thee are written down herein!
From Yedren with an army is come the Turkish tsar
To Kósovo, and his viziers are with him in the war;
And he hath taken Kósovo with his accurst viziers.
The whole strength hath he brought along of all the Turkish spears;
Along the land of Kósovo hath he ta'en either flood—
Lab and Sítnitsa onward from the marble to the wood,
From the maple dry to Sázliya bridged over by the arch,
Through Zvechan and Chechan to the wood round Kósovo they march,
The valley of their capture; thereto they haste along.
And the tsar hath one army an hundred thousand strong,
That one lone lord hath lent him who hath a fief of the tsar.
Many lords eat of the tsar's bread, and ride his steeds of war.
Few arms those chieftains carry; nay, but a single blade!
And yet another army is for the tsar arrayed—
The Turks and janissaries in Yedren's milk-white tower;
And yet an hundred thousand they say are in that power.
Tuk and Manjuk an army for the tsar lead as well,
And death is in their onslaught and slaughter in their yell.
But yet there is one army of all from far and near—
Vlah Aliya's, that feareth not for sultan nor vizier,
Nor all within the armies save as ants upon the hill.
“Such is the Turkish battle, nor departs he without ill.
He smote on little Banska; by the left-hand way he came;
He stormed the hold of Banska, and burned it with the flame.
He hath o'erturned the lowest stone; thy servants fled perforce;
And o'er thy mother's body hath he ridden on his horse;
With thy wife upon his saddlebow through Kósovo he went,
And he kisses thy belovèd in the shadow of his tent.
And I above burned ruins bewail this fate of mine,
While thou drink'st wine in Krúshevats. God send 'tis Death his wine!”
When the ban read the letter, Grief took him in her grip;
Down drooped upon his shoulder the black beard of his lip;
He ground his teeth together, and was very nigh to weep;
And old Yug Bogdan saw him, as he rose up from his sleep.
Yug's voice flashed up like fire; he spake after this wise:
“God help my son! and wherefore dost thou so soon arise?
And wherefore art thou troubled, good son-in-law of mine?
Have thy brave brothers laughed at thee or mocked thee at the wine?
Have not thy sisters served thee? Is there evil among thy kin?
Tell me, my son, and straightway: what shame is found herein?”
The ban flashed up before him and to his father said:
“Father, I find no fault at all in the kin of her I wed,
And my good brothers with me deal pleasantly withal;
The noble ladies speak me fair and serve me in the hall:
Among my wife's good kindred no fault at all doth stand.
My mother out of Banska sends this letter to my hand.”
He tells unto his father in the fair morning-tide
How all of his possession is wasted far and wide;
How that the Turks have scattered his servants, knight and knave,
And trampled on his mother, and his wife ta'en for a slave:
“And O thou old Yug Bogdan, if she be dear to me,
Also she is thy daughter and shame to me and thee!
And if thou ever thoughtest a gift to me to give,
Give it not after I am dead, but now while yet I live.
I pray thee and I kiss thy hand: give me thy children nine,
And we will go to Kósovo to seek this foe of mine—
Yea, this red traitor to the tsar, that hath enslaved my wife.
Be not afraid, my father, nor sorrow for their life;
They shall wear Turkish raiment, turbans as white as milk
And good green mantles, and also broad trousers wrought of silk.
And at the belt long sabers as flashing as a flame.
And I will call my servants, and order them by name,
To saddle up the horses and draw the saddlebelts,
And cover o'er the horses with the strong black bear-pelts.
Strong janissaries shall they be; my counsel shall they know,
What time through the tsar's army we ride in Kósovo.
And I will be their captain, who have their sister wed,
That they may heed my counsel, and have it still in dread.
And if a soldier of the tsar shall challenge us in speech,
Turkish, mayhap, or Arabic; why, I can speak in each,
And Manov too, and Arnaut, enough to serve that tide.
To seek my foe through Kósovo, so lightly will we ride—
This Turk Vlah Áliya that enslaved my love by might and main.
For though alone among the Turks I might perish or be ta'en,
My brethren and I, we shall not die nor be smitten down in vain!”
When old Yug Bogdan heard this, he flashed like living fire;
He spake unto Ban Strahin in words of wrath and ire:
“O thou, my son Ban Strahin, witless art thou and rash!
Wilt thou lead my sons to Kósovo for these same Turks to slash?
Say nothing more, my son-in-law! My sons shall not be slain,
Though thy fair wife, my daughter, come never home again.
Nay, nevermore, Ban Strahin, unloose thy wrath at me,
For wit thou well, my son-in-law—may the plague light on thee!—
If she have been his paramour but one night in the tent,
So may she be no longer the bride of thy content;
God hath slain her forever; accursèd shall she be!
And a worse thing, Ban Strahin, him she prefers to thee.
Go to! The Devil take her! And for this love of thine
I will give thee a better, and with thee drink the wine.
I will be thy friend forever, but my children shall not go
Riding amain across the plain with thee to Kósovo!”
But when Ban Strahin heard it, he flashed like living fire;
Answered the ban to the old man in agony and ire.
He will not call a servant; for a groom he takes not heed,
But goeth himself to the stable to saddle the white steed.
How royally he saddled him! how girded him thereto!
How over flashing ear and crest the bit and bridle drew!
Before the gateway of the court he led him forth alone,
And held him by the bridle near the white stepping-stone.
And he caught the steed by the shoulder and mounted with a bound,
And looked upon his brethren, but they looked upon the ground.
Upon his sister's husband Ban Strahin turned his eyes,
But Némanyich looked downward at the black dust likewise.
They had drunken wine and brandy enough to make one nod,
And boasted that they were heroes, and sworn by the name of God:
“We love thee, thou—Ban Strahin, more than the tsar's whole land.”
But woe! the ban has never a man this day his friend to stand.
It is no easy labor to Kósovo to wend;
And the ban looked about him and saw he had no friend.
He rode down, through white Krúshevats, but aye he looked behind
To see if his brave brethren would alter in their mind,
And pity his affliction. No friend came to the ban.
And thereupon he minded him of the hound Káraman,
Whom he loves better than the steed, and holds of richer worth,
And loudly from the strong white throat the hound-call thunders forth.
The hound lay in the stable, but harkened and gave heed,
And swiftly in the field he ran, till he overtook the steed.
And gay beside the milk-white steed the hound rejoicing springs,
And on his neck the collar of corded goldwork rings.
A pleasant thing it was; the ban rode glad on the stallion's back,
And took by weald and mount and field to Kósovo the track.
When he saw the host at Kósovo his heart was touched by fear,
But he remembered the true God, and to the Turks drew near.
Over the field of Kósovo on all four sides he went,
Seeking the strong Vlah Áliya, but he could not find his tent.
By the waters of the Sítnitsa a marvel there was seen,
By the shore of the Sítnitsa was pitched a tent of green.
The tent of green was very fair; it hid the grassy lawn,
The golden apple on the pole shone brighter than the dawn.
A spear is set before the door, and by the spear a steed,
With his head deep in the nose-bag upon the oats to feed.
The steed pawed fierce upon the ground with the off hoof and the near,
And the ban thought unto himself: “Vlah Áliya's tent is here.”
And forward rode the hero upon the milk-white steed;
He took his spear from shoulder, all ready to his need.
He threw the tent door open, and looked within the tent;
But it was not Vlah Áliya, the strong and insolent;
But a dervish, to whose girdle the white beard sweeps from the chin,
Lies in the shadow of the tent, and no one else therein.
A luckless dervish is the Turk, but he drinks wine in a cup;
He pours the wine out for himself and forthwith drinks it up.
Ban Strahin looked on the dervish that was bloody to the eyes,
And made salam unto him, after the Turkish wise.
The drunken Turk looked on him, and spoke a word of woe:
“Hail to thee, brave Ban Strahin of Banska by Kósovo!”
Now flashed up the Ban Strahin, and answered him in dread;
In the fair-spoken Turkish a bitter word he said:
“Foul fall thy mother, thou dervish, that drinkest here this hour!
Thou art so drunk thou canst not tell a Moslem from a Giaour.
Wherefore dost thou speak of him? for here is found no ban;
There is none here but I, and I am the tsar's true fighting man.
All of the tsar's good horses are scattered near and far,
And the warriors run quickly to catch them for the tsar.
If I go with this thy insult to the tsar and the vizier,
Know well, thou sorry dervish, thy words shall cost thee dear.”
Laughed the dervish:
“Thou a Turk, Strahin?
Good fortune go with thee!
Were I upon Mount Golech, and should haply chance to see
Thee afar in the host of the tsar, well I should know thee, ban—
Thee and that milk-white steed of thine, and the hound Káraman,
Whom aye thou lovest better than the strong stallion white.
And know, thou ban of Banska, I read thy brow aright.
And I know the eyes thereunder and the black beard of thy lip.
Know, ban—and may good fortune be of thy fellowship!—
That when thy guardsmen took me and made of me a slave,
To thee in Súhara of the mount me miserable they gave.
To the bottom of that prison didst thou cast me at that tide,
And there a slave to thine and thee nine years did I abide.
Nine fearful years past over, yea! and the tenth began,
When filled with deep compassion thou thoughtest on me, ban.
Thou badest Rado, the jailer, unbar the doors withal,
And forthwith bring me upward a captive to the hall.
And dost thou know, Ban Strahin, what words thy fierce lips said:
“‘Slave! Turkish snake! Now would that thou within my hold wert dead!
Canst thou then, like a hero, redeem thee with a fee?’
“So ran thy question to me, and I told the truth to thee:
“‘My life now could I ransom, could I come to my hall,
To my father's land and my birthplace and my fiefs one and all—
My many farms and freeholds, the price of liberty.
But thither to go, too well I know, hardly thou trustest me.
I will give thee a good bondsman, even God who does not feign,
And another bondsman, his good faith, that I bring that ransom again.’
“Thou gavest thy trust to me that tide to go to my white hall,
To my father's land and my birthplace, and my fiefs one and all.
I came to my sad birthplace; no more I knew good luck;
On my houses and my birthplace the pestilence had struck.
It smote the men and women; in my houses none had stayed,
And my whole house had perished and my whole possession strayed.
Fast-barred was all my sire's estate, and bolted was the door.
The Turks took farm and freehold for their own forevermore.
And when I saw my houses all closed against me stand,
That I had neither friend nor goods, then a good plan I planned.
I rode post unto Yedren, to the vizier and the tsar,
And the vizier boasted me for a hero in the war.
The tsar's vizier clothed me and gave a tent to me,
And the great raven charger and shining panoply.
For the tsar's man forever in his book my name they set,
And thou hast come to me to-day to claim of me thy debt.
But, ban, I have not a penny; and woe is on thee this day,
That thou comest to die in folly amidst the tsar's array.”
The ban looked on the dervish. Forthwith the man he knew;
From the steed he vaulted, and clasped him, and to his bosom drew:
“Brother in God, old dervish, no debt is due to me.
I seek no money, brother, nor any ransom fee.
I seek the strong Vlah Áliya, who hath overthrown my hall,
And hath taken my belovèd to be his bounden thrall.
Tell me of him, thou dervish, and do not me betray
Unto the Turkish army, who are yearning me to slay.”
“By God,” then said the dervish, “thou ban, thou falcon-one,
The strength of this my faith to thee is firmer than the stone.
Shouldst thou with the sword's edges smite half the army dead,
Yet would I not betray thee, nor trample on thy bread.
Though I ate of it in prison, thou gavest me store of wine;
Thou gavest the milk-white loaves to me that I might freely dine;
Oft in the sun's light glorious I warmed me in the morn;
Thou didst set me free upon my word, wherein I am forsworn.
I could not keep my word to thee, returning to thy hall:
Faith it was hard for me to keep without the wherewithal!
And for the Turk, Ban Strahin, Vlah Áliya insolent—
On the high mount of Golech he pitches now his tent.
But, Strahin, go from Kósovo, or a fool's death diest thou here.
Trust not thy hand, nor the sharp brand, nor the venom