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TRANSLATION OF THE ROMAIC SONG,
Μπενω μες σ περιβόλι
“ S2' percolc7» Xandn,' &c. "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 “ Xopor" in the winter of 1810-11. The air is plaintive and pretty.
Beloved and fair Haideé,
For surely I see her in thee.
Receive this fond truth from my tongue
Yet trembles for what it has sung;
Adds fragrance and fruit to the tree,
Shines the soul of the young Haideé.
When Love has abandon’d the bowers;
The poison, when pour'd from the chalice,
Will deeply embitter the bowl;
The draught shall be sweet to my soul.
My heart from these horrors to save: Will nought to my bosom restore thee?
Then open the gates of the grave.
As the chief who to combat advances
Secure of his conquest before,
Hast pierced through my heart to its core.
By pangs wbich a smile would dispe!? Would the hope, which thou once bad'st me cherish,
For torture repay me too well? Now sad is the garden of roses,
Beloved but false Haideé! There Flora all wither'd reposes,
Add mourns o'er thine absence with me,
WRITTEN BENEATH A PICTURE.
Though now of Love and thee bereft,
But this I feel can ne'er be true: For by the death-blow of my Hope
My Memory immortal grew.
1. Tae kiss, dear maid! thy lip has left,
Shall never part from mine, Till happier hours restore the gift
Untainted back to thine.
An equal love may see;
Can weep no change in me.
In gazing when alone;
Whose thoughts are all thine own.
4. Nor need I write to tell the tale
My pen were doubly weak: Oh! what can idle words avail,
Unless the heart could speak?
That heart, no longer free,
And silent ache for thee.
TRANSLATION OF THE FAMOUS GREEK
Δευσε παιδες των Ελληνων , Written by Riga, who perished in the attempt to revolutionize Greece. The following translation is as literal as the author could make it in verse; it is of the same measure as that of the original.
The glorious hour's gone forth,
Display who gave us birth.
lo a river past our feet.
The Turkish tyrant's yoke,
And all her cbains are broke.
Behold the coming strife!
Oh, start again to life!
Your sleep, oh, join with me!
Sons of Greeks, &c,
Lethargic dost thou lie?
With Athens, old ally!
That chief of ancient song,
The terrible! the strong!
In old Thermopylae,
To keep his country free;
The battle, long be stood,
Sons of Greeks, &c.
TO THYRZA. 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 meet-no-ne'er again! Could this have been a word, a look
That softly said, we part in peace,” Had taught my bosom how to brook,
With fainter sighs, thy soul's release.