Armenian Legends and Poems 10

Armenian Legends and Poems 10

ARTASHES AND SATENIK

 

From the History of Armenia,

 

by

 

MOSES OF KHORENE

 

 

At this time the Alans united with all the people of the mountain

country, and having taken possession of the half of Georgia, spread

themselves in great multitudes over our land. And Artashes collected a

mighty host together, and there was war between the two great nations.

The Alans retreated somewhat, and crossing over the river Kur they

encamped on its northern bank. And when Artashes arrived, he encamped

on the southern bank, so that the river was between them. But because

the son of the King of the Alans was taken captive by the Armenian

hosts and brought to Artashes, the King of the Alans sought peace,

promising to give to Artashes whatsoever he should ask. And he swore an

eternal peace unto him, so that the sons of the Alans might not be

carried away captive into the land of the Armenians. And when Artashes

would not consent to give back the youth, his sister came to the

river’s bank and stood upon a great rock. And by means of the

interpreters she spoke to the camp of Artashes, saying:—“O brave

Artashes, who hast vanquished the great nation of the Alans, unto thee

I speak. Come, hearken unto the bright-eyed daughter of the Alan King,

and give back the youth. For it is not the way of heroes to destroy

life at the root, nor for the sake of humbling and enslaving a hostage

to establish everlasting enmity between two great nations.” And on

hearing such wise sayings, Artashes went to the bank of the river. And

seeing that the maiden was beautiful, and having heard these words of

wisdom from her, he desired her. And calling Smpad his chamberlain he

told him the wishes of his heart, and commanded that he should obtain

the maiden for him, swearing unto the great Alan nation oaths of peace,

and promising to send the youth back in safety. And this appeared wise

in the eyes of Smpad, and he sent messengers unto the King of the Alans

asking him to give the lady Satenik his daughter as wife unto Artashes.

And the King of the Alans answered, “From whence shall brave Artashes

give thousands upon thousands and tens of thousands upon tens of

thousands unto the Alans in return for the maiden?”

 

Concerning this the poets of that land sing in their songs:—

 

 

“Brave King Artashes

Mounted his fine black charger,

And took the red leathern cord

With the golden ring.

Like a swift-winged eagle

He passed over the river,

And cast the golden ring

Round the waist of the Alan Princess;

Causing much pain

To the tender maiden

As he bore her swiftly

Back to his camp.”

 

 

Which being interpreted meaneth that he was commanded to give much

gold, leather, and crimson dye in exchange for the maiden. So also they

sing of the wedding:—

 

 

“It rained showers of gold when Artashes became a bridegroom.

It rained pearls when Satenik became a bride.”

 

 

For it was the custom of our kings to scatter coins amongst the people

when they arrived at the doors of the temple for their wedding, as also

for the queens to scatter pearls in their bridechamber.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

MY DEATH

 

By BEDROS TOURIAN

 

 

When Death’s pale angel comes to me,

And smiling sweetly on my head,

Bids all my pains and sorrows flee,—

Believe not then that I am dead.

 

When my cold limbs they shroud with care,

And on my brow love’s tear-drops shed,

And lay me on my ebon bier,—

Believe not then that I am dead.

 

And when the tolling bell shall ring

To my black coffin’s muted tread

—Death’s fiendish laughter, quivering,—

Believe not then that I am dead.

 

And when the black-robed priests shall sing,

And prayers and incense round me spread,

With faces dark and sorrowing—

Believe not still that I am dead.

 

When on my tomb they heap the clay,

And leave me in my lonely bed,

And loved ones turn with sobs away—

Then never think that I am dead.

 

But if my grave neglected lie,

My memory too be gone and fled,

And dear ones pass unheeding by,

Ah, then believe that I am dead!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

THE EAGLE’S LOVE

 

By SHUSHANIK GOURGHINIAN

 

(Born 1876)

 

 

An eagle sat upon the fell,—

He sat and sang alone.

A pretty maid passed in the dell,

He saw—his heart was won.

 

“Ah, lovely maid, enchanting maid,

Alas, thou canst not fly!

Down in the vale thou soon shalt fade,

And like a floweret die.

 

“I’d make thee queen, if thou could’st fly,

Of all my mountains steep;

At night I’d sing thy lullaby,

And in my wings thou’dst sleep.

 

“Those eyes are like black night to me,

That smile like sunshine bright;

And heaven itself would quickly be

Subdued before thy might.

 

“Good Lord, canst thou not fly at all?

Who made thee without wings?

Art thou content down there to crawl

With loathsome creeping things?”

 

Thus on his rock the eagle proud

Sat singing, then he sailed

O’er hill and valley, and aloud

The maiden’s fate bewailed.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

CONCERNING THE ROSE AND THE NIGHTINGALE

 

By GRIGORIS OF AGHTAMAR

 

(Fifteenth Century)

 

 

The Rose was gone. When to the empty tent

The Nightingale returned, his heart was torn.

He filled the night with mourning and lament,

And wandered through the darkness lone and lorn.

 

“To thee I speak, O Garden, answer me,

Why did’st thou not preserve my precious Rose,

Whose perfume breathed of immortality,

Whose colour made her queen of all that grows?

 

“May’st thou become a desert parched and dry,

And may the flowers that grow within thee fade;

May thy protecting walls in ruin lie—

By ruthless feet thy soil in waste be laid.

 

“Ye trees, now cast away your verdant leaves,

And rushing torrents, your swift courses stay.

Reckless I speak, as one who sorely grieves,