Armenian Legends and Poems 2
No Bird can reach the Mountain’s Crest 106
The Nightingale of Avarair 108
Thou art so Sweet 110
The Wandering Armenian to the Swallow 111
The Christ-Child 113
The Castle of Anoush 114
Happiness 118
Concerning Death 119
Love One Another 121
Pasqua Armena 122
“Io Vidi” 123
Armenia: its Epics, Folk-Songs, and Mediaeval Poetry 125
Chronological Index to Authors 193
Index to First Lines 195
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS
Armenia Frontispiece
The Birth of Vahagn, King of Armenia facing page 10
Ara and Semiramis 23
The Founding of Van 33
Artashes and Satenik 48
The Wedding 49
Artavasd 65
Christ’s Letter to Abgarus 75
The Lake of Van 86
The Vision of Rosiphelee, Princess of Armenia 91
The Lady and the Minstrel 102
The Castle of Anoush 114
REPROACHES
By “FRIK”
(Died 1330)
O God of righteousness and truth,
Loving to all, and full of ruth;
I have some matter for Thine ear
If Thou wilt but Thy servant hear.
Lo, how the world afflicteth us
With wrongs and torments rancorous;
And Thou dost pardon every one,
But turnest from our woes alone.
Lord, Thou wilt not avenge our wrong
Nor chase the ills that round us throng;
Thou knowest, we are flesh and bone,
We are not statues made from stone!
We are not made of grass or reeds,
That Thou consumest us like weeds;—
As though we were some thorny field
Or brushwood, that the forests yield.
If that ourselves are nothing worth—
If we have wrought no good on earth,
If we are hateful in Thy sight
That Thou shouldst leave us in this plight—
Then blot us out;—be swift and brief,
That Thy pure heart may find relief;
This well may be, by Thy intent,
Great Lord and good, omnipotent.
How long must we in patience wait
And bear unmurmuringly our fate?
Let evil ones be swept away
And those whom Thou dost favour, stay!
A TRIAL OF ORTHODOXY
(Sonnet on Armenia)
By WILLIAM WATSON
The clinging children at their mother’s knee
Slain; and the sire and kindred one by one
Flayed or hewn piecemeal; and things nameless done,
Not to be told: while imperturbably
The nations gaze, where Rhine unto the sea,
Where Seine and Danube, Thames and Tiber run,
And where great armies glitter in the sun,
And great Kings rule, and man is boasted free!
What wonder if yon torn and naked throng
Should doubt a Heaven that seems to wink and nod,
And having mourned at noontide, “Lord, how long?”
Should cry, “Where hidest Thou?” at evenfall,
At midnight, “Is He deaf and blind, our God?”
And ere day dawn, “Is He indeed at all?”
THE EXILE’S SONG
FOLK SONG
Belovèd one, for thy sweet sake,
By whirlwinds tossed and swayed I roam;
The stranger’s accents round me wake
These burning thoughts that wander home.
No man such longings wild can bear
As in my heart forever rise.
Oh that the wind might waft me there
Where my belovèd’s vineyard lies!
Oh that I were the zephyr fleet,
That bends her vines and roses sweet.
For I am piteous and forlorn,
As is the bird that haunts the night;
Who inconsolably doth mourn
Whene’er his rose is from his sight.
O’er earth and ocean, everywhere
I gaze in vain, with weary eyes.
Oh that the wind might waft me there
Where my belovèd’s vineyard lies!
Oh that I were the zephyr fleet
That bends her vines and roses sweet.
I would I were yon cloud so light,—
Yon cloudlet driven before the wind.
Or yonder bird with swift-winged flight:
My heart’s true way I soon would find!
Oh, I would be the wind so fleet
That bends her vines and roses sweet.
THE APPLE TREE
FOLK SONG
The door of Heaven open seemed
And in thy house the sunlight gleamed.
As through the garden’s willow’d walks I hied
Full many a tree and blossom I espied.
But of all trees, the Apple Tree most fair
And beautiful did unto me appear.
It sobbed and wept. Its leaves said murmuringly:
“I would that God had ne’er created me!
The badge of sin and wickedness I am
E’en at thy feast, O Father Abraham. [1]
The apple growing on me first
From Eden came ere it was cursed,
Alas, alas, I am undone!
Why fell I to that evil one?”
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