with

the sun; arrows and darts fell so fast, that a man would have thought they had poured down from heaven; the noise of the instruments of war, the neighing of horses, and outcries of men, was so terrible and great, that the wild beasts of the mountains stood astonied therewith; and the Turkish histories, to express the terror of the day (vainly say) that the angels in heaven, amazed with that hideous noise, for that time forgot the heavenly hymns wherewith they always glorifie God. About noon time of the day, the fortune of the Turks prevailing, the Christians began to give ground, and at length betook themselves to plain flight; whom the Turks with all their force pursued, and slew them downright, without number or mercy. In which battel Lazarus, the Despot, himself was also slain. Howbeit some histories report otherwise, as that he with his son were taken prisoners, and by and by afterwards (in revenge of Amurath his death) cruelly slain; othersome also reporting that he died in prison.

'Amurath after this great victory, with some few of his chief captains, taking view of the dead bodies, which without number lay on heaps in the field like mountains, a Christian souldier, sore wounded, and all bloody, seeing him, in staggering manner arose (as if it had been from death) out of a heap of slain men, and making towards him, for want of strength fell down divers times by the way as he came, as if he had been a drunken man; at length drawing nigh unto him, when they which guarded the king's person would have stayed him, he was by Amurath himself commanded to come nearer, supposing that he would have craved his life of him. Thus the half-dead Christian pressing near unto him, as if he would for honour sake have kissed his feet, suddenly stabbed him in the bottom of his belly with a short dagger, which he had under his souldier's coat; of which wound that great king and conqueror presently died. The name of this man (for his courage worthy of eternal memory) was Miles Cobelitz; who before sore wounded, was shortly after in the presence of Bajazet cut into small pieces. The Turks in their annals somewhat otherwise report of the death of Amurath; as that this Cobelitz, one of the despot his servants, in time of the battel, coming to Amurath as a fugitive, offering him his service, and admitted to his presence, in humbling himself to have kissed his feet (as the barbarous manner of the Turks is) stabbed him into the belly, and so slew him; being himself therefore shortly after (as aforesaid) in the presence of Bajazet most cruelly hewen into small pieces. Whereupon ever since that time, the manner of the Turks hath been, and yet is, that when any embassador or stranger is come to kiss the Sultan his hand, or otherwise to approach his person, he is, as it were for honour's sake, led by the arms into his presence betwixt two of the great courtiers, but indeed by so intangling him, to be sure that he shall not offer him the like violence that did this Cobelitz to Amurath.'-History of the Turks, p. 139, edition 1687.

The following is a Servian edition of the tale-in which, our

readers

readers will perceive, the half-dead Christian soldier'-' one of the Despot his servants'-turns out to be a personage of very high rank-the brother-in-law both of the Servian Krall and of the traitor Vuk.

'That night came two black ravens

from Kossova field,

And round about the tower in the red dawn they wheeled;
Round it, and round it with many a croak, they flew,

When they perched them on the turret more loud their croaking grew.
Ho! is this the castle of that famous king?

It is a silent castle- it holds no living thing.
'The solitary lady heard them where she lay,-
Up went she to the turret, in the dawning gray;
"Ye two black ravens,
Why come ye here so early, to croak about the tower?
Over Kossova field was it your luck to fly?-

God greet ye well this hour,

Saw ye two mighty hosts that thereupon did lie?-
Saw ye the meeting, ravens? Did ye hear the din?-
Tell me truth, black ravens, which of them did win?"

"Fair thanks for such a greeting," said the ravens black;
"We have been to Kossova, we are just come back;
Two mighty hosts, fair lady, it was our luck to see,
Yesterday they fought, and
The princes of the armies
And all the Turks are dead

near enough were we;

are slaughtered, both the two,
except a very few;

Some of the Servian warriors still remain in life,

But every breast

them among

is gashed with lance or knife."

'While the black birds were croaking in Militza's ear,
Her servant, Mulatin, a faithful man, drew near;

His right hand, parted from the wrist, in the left he bore—
Down his horse's sides the streams of blood did pour,
Seventeen wounds, I ween, Mulatin had ta'en,

Ere he turned his horse's head
"What's that?-poor Mulatin!
Speak, was there any treason,

from Kossova plain.

(it was thus the lady said), that the Zar is dead?"

'Mulatin, the servant, his lady did thus greet :—

Help me quickly, lady, help me from my seat;

Bring cold water from the well, and wash my burning brow,
And pour me wine, red wine, for I have thirst I trow-
I am sorely wounded, my heart is bloodless now."

'The beautiful Militza helped him from his selle,

And she washed his brows with cold water from the well,
She filled the cup with wine, and held it to his head,
And when some strength was come, it was thus she said,—
*“Now, Mulatin, look up, and all thy tidings yield,

Tell me how went it

upon Kossova field;

First

First of the famous prince, how he was slaughtered tell,
And my gray-haired father Ugo, where the old man fell,
And my noble brothers, all the noble nine,

that dear friend of mine,
my other sister's man,

And Milosch the waiwode,
And Vuk, the fearless lord,
And young and bold Straïnia,

the son of the old Ban?" and thus his tale begun

The soldier raised his head,
"They lie upon Kossova, slaughtered every one;
Where the famous prince, the Zar, my master, lies,
Has blood enow been shed, all the grass it dyes;
With lances broke and shivered is the ground bestrown,
Many a Turkish lance, but more of them our own,
For the Servian soldiers
To defend their master,
For your father Ugo, I

clustered from afar

and died about the Zar. saw the good old man

Struck down among the foremost as the fight began;
Eight of the Ugovitzes were slaughtered by his side,
The band stuck fast together till all but one had died ;
It was Bosko Ugovitz he alone was left--

I saw him raise his banner, out his way he cleft;

In like an eagle then among the Turks went he,

And scattered them like doves till the blood was at his knee.
Straïnia lies in Sitniza ;-Milosch, too, hath his sleep

In the river's bed, in the water cold and deep;

But ere Milosch was slain, the Lord had blessed his hand
To do a deed of glory for the Servian land,-
With his own hand he slew
God bless his soul for that,
O, sung in many a song,
While green Kossova lasts,
Why did you ask for Vuk?

the Sultaun Amurath!
and all the kin he hath!
and told in many a tale,
his memory shall not fail.
Him never name again,

But to curse a traitor, and a deadly traitor's strain!
He in the hour went over to the heathen host,

He and his false-twelve thousand; thus the Zar was lost."**—pp. 5, 6. The Servian Minstrelsy contains the record of many subsequent battles, or rather skirmishes, between this unfortunate people and their Ottoman enemies; some of them occurring after the Servian soil had been in part colonized by the conquerors. The war had then assumed the ferocity of a civil one, and its terrors appear to have been softened occasionally by that influence which, in all ages and countries, has been humane. For example'Right early rose the Turkish maid, before the East was red, And coming to Moritza's bank, thereon her linen spread.

* The field of Cossova was the scene of another great and hardly-won Turkish victory, in 1448; when the Hungarian hero, Huniades, (one of Sir William Temple's 'seven great men that deserved, without wearing, a crown,') sustained, to use the words of Gibbon, 'till the fourth day the shock of an Ottoman army four times more numerous than his own.'

The

The sun is up; yet clearly flows the river by her side;

But ever as in heaven he rose, more troubled grew the tide.

• The noontide waves were black with blood-and first there came a

horse,

And then a turban on the flood, and then a Turkish corse:

A Turkish corse went rolling by, bright through the waves it shone; And close behind a Christian knight comes sorely struggling on.

66

The waters tossed him grievously-when he beheld the maid To reach the margin much he strove, and thus in anguish prayed"O! sister, for the love of God, some garment stretch to me; O! save me, and the life thou giv'st shall all be spent for thee." The maid had pity on the knight that did her grace implore; She stretched a garment forth to him, and drew him to the shore.' &c. &c. p. 21.

In the following ballad we find the Turks as well blended with the Servians, as we suppose they ever were, or are likely to be. We quote it at length for three several reasons: first, on account of the state of manners which its narrative describes, and which is equally indicated in the oriental imagery of its diction; secondly, because it is the only Servian ballad in this collection that professes to be rendered in the metre of the original; and thirdly, for the extraordinary resemblance which the story of Suko' bears-down even to the taunt of the closing verses-to that of Young Lochinvar ' 'Never, never, since the world's beginning, Never, never bloomed a fairer blossom

Than was reared of late beneath the shadow
Of the noble Lubovitzi's fastness.

White and high o'er Nevesinya looking

Stands the tower wherein they reared Hainuka,
But it holds no more the flower of beauty,-

Far

away lies Lubovitzi's sister.

'Fair she was, there could be nothing fairer;
Stately was she as the mountain pine-tree;
White and rosy-colour intermingled

Were her cheeks, as she had kissed the dawning;
Dark and flashing, like two noble jewels,
Were her eyes; and over them were eyebrows,

Thin and black, like leeches from the fountain;

Dark the lashes too; although the ringlets
Hung above in clusters rich and golden;
Softer were her eyelids than the pinions
Of the swallow on the breeze reposing.
Sweeter were the maiden's lips than honey;
White her teeth, as pearls in ocean ripen'd;
White her breasts, two little panting wild doves;
Soft her speaking, as the wild dove's murmur;

Bright her smiling as the burst of sunshine.
Wide through Bosnia and Herzegovina
Went the story of her wondrous beauty.
'Lovers many came about the maiden;
Two above the rest came late and early;
One, the hoary-bearded Mustaph-Aga,
Lord of Kraina, lord of Castle-Novi.
Mustaph-Aga, at her brother's portal,
Met another that was come a-wooing,
Young and noble Suko of Ubeina.
Mustaph-Aga and the fearless Suko
Once they met at Lubovitzi's portal,
As the sun went down on Nevesinya.
Mustaph-Aga brought a thousand pieces
Virgin gold upon a golden basin;

Round the basin twined a golden serpent-
Eyes of diamond glittered in its forehead;
Eyes of diamond, glittering so splendid
Men might feast at midnight by their shining.
Suko offered but a dozen ducats,

All he had he offered for the maiden;
Lord was he of little but his sabre,

And the targe that hung upon his shoulder
Noble Suko made the border feed him,
As the air is fain to feed the falcon.

Lubovitzi spake unto his sister,

"See, my sister, see, my dear Hainuka,
In the hour in which thy mother bore thee
It was written somebody should wed thee;
Many lovers come to me a-wooing,
But this night the two that are the noblest
Both are here, within the court together.
Here is hoary-bearded Mustaph-Aga,
Come from Kraina, from his Castle-Novi;
Wealth on wealth hath lordly Mustaph-Aga,
All in silk and satin would he clothe thee,
Every day with honey would he feed thee.
Close beside is Suko of Ubeina;

Lord is he of little but his sabre,

And the targe that hangs upon his shoulder.

Choose, Hainuka, choose to-night, my sister,

Choose and tell me which of them shall wed thee."

Thus the sister spake to Lubovitzi,

"Thine the choice is, thine alone, my brother;
He to whom thou givest me is my husband;
But for me, I'd rather have a bridegroom
Young and bold, with nothing in his girdle,

Than