Armenian Legends and Poems 12

Armenian Legends and Poems 12

“O Aged-One, why art thou never glad?

The lines that seam thy countenance are sad.

The world is ever changing; thou alone

Art still the same with thy dark face of stone.

 

“Free children of the mountains ever free,

We bring rich gifts of jewels unto thee;

Scent thee with perfumes of the mountain rose—

Heaven’s daughter fair, that on our margin grows.

 

“Sweet strains of gentle melody we breathe,

And call the fishes from our depths beneath;

And gilded with the spring-tide’s golden rays,

We make thee on our merry revels gaze.

 

“And songs of love we warble in thine ear,

From morning dawn until the stars appear:—

We fondle thee, and on thine aged breast

Our passions lull, and bid them sink to rest.”

 

The wavelets hasten, moving to and fro,

The rock still sorrows o’er his ancient woe;

The wavelets play, and laughing onward press—

The rock remains, gloomy and motionless.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

THE CRANE

 

By HOVHANNES TOUMANIAN

 

(Born 1869)

 

 

The Crane has lost his way across the heaven,

From yonder stormy cloud I hear him cry,

A traveller o’er an unknown pathway driven,

In a cold world unheeded he doth fly.

 

Ah, whither leads this pathway long and dark,

My God, where ends it, thus with fears obsessed?

When shall night end this day’s last glimmering spark?

Where shall my weary feet to-night find rest?

 

Farewell, belovèd bird, where’er thou roam

Spring shall return and bring thee back once more,

With thy sweet mate and young ones, to thy home—

Thy last year’s nest upon the sycamore.

 

But I am exiled from my ruined nest,

And roam with faltering steps from hill to hill,

Like to the fowls of heaven in my unrest

Envying the boulders motionless and still.

 

Each boulder unassailed stands in its place,

But I from mine must wander tempest tossed—

And every bird its homeward way can trace,

But I must roam in darkness, lone and lost.

 

Ah, whither leads this pathway long and dark,

My God, where ends it, thus with fears obsessed?

When shall night end this day’s last glimmering spark?

Where shall my weary feet to-night find rest?

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

THE HAWK AND THE DOVE

 

FOLK SONG

 

 

The Hawk said to the Dove, “My dear,

Why dost thou shed tear after tear,

That go to swell the streamlet clear?”

The Dove said to the Hawk, “I fear

That spring is gone and autumn’s here;

The rills have ceased their glad career,

The leaves and flowers are dead and sere,

The partridges no more we hear;

So I shall weep in my despair,

And from my eyes shed many a tear:—

How shall I find my babies’ fare?”

He said, “Weep not this autumn drear,

For spring will come another year,

And sunshine bring the world its cheer,

And Hope shall for the poor appear.

Upon my pinions thee I’ll bear

Where those tall trees their summit rear,

And high upon those mountains bare

I’ll build a nest with tender care,

I’ll make for thee a dwelling there,—

A hearth laid in that rocky lair,

With chimney open to the air;

The smoke shall to the clouds repair—

And to the South Wind fly our care!”

Autumn gave place to springtime fair,

The rills were loosed on their career

And went to swell the streamlet clear,

Like blood-drops from the boulders bare.

Bright yellow flowers the hills did wear,

And violets, with perfume rare,

And flowers of countless colours fair;

And birds with music filled the air,

And bleating lambs called everywhere

To God for all His love and care.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

ARTAVASD

 

From the History of Armenia, by

 

MOSES OF KHORENE

 

 

After the death of Artashes his son Artavasd reigned, and he drove all

his brothers and sisters to the lands of Aghyovd and Arberan, that they

might not live in Aïrarat, on the territory of the King. And when he

had reigned but a little while, as he was riding over the bridge of

Artashat to hunt deer and wild asses on the banks of the Ghin, he was

seized by some visionary terror and lost his reason. And urging his

horse down a steep bank he fell into a chasm, wherein he sank and

disappeared.

 

The singers of Ghogtan tell concerning him, that when his father was

dying many people killed themselves according to the customs of the

heathen; and they say that Artavasd was wroth, and said unto his

father:

 

 

“Now that thou art gone

And hast taken with thee the whole land,

How shall I reign over the ruins?”

 

 

Therefore Artashes cursed him, and said:

 

 

“When thou ridest forth to hunt

Over the free heights of Ararat,

The Strong Ones shall have thee,

And shall take thee up

On to the free heights of Ararat.

There shalt thou abide,

And never more see the light.”

 

 

Old women also tell of him how that he is confined in a cavern and

bound with iron chains. And his two dogs do daily try to gnaw through

the chains to set him free, that he may come and put an end to the

world; but at the sound of the hammers striking on the anvil, the

chains are strengthened. So also even in our own times many blacksmiths

do keep up the tradition and strike the anvil three or four times on a

Monday, to strengthen, as they say, the chains of Artavasd. But the

truth concerning him is as we have declared above.

 

Others say that at his birth the women of the house of Ahasuerus did

try to bewitch him, and therefore Artashes tormented them much; and

these same singers say also that the Children of the Dragons stole the

infant Artavasd and put a devil in his place. But unto us it seemeth

that being full of wickedness from his very birth, so also did he end.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

CHARM VERSES [9]

 

FOLK SONGS

 

 

 

Snowless hang the clouds to-night,