Spectre’s Bride
By KAREL JAROMÍR ERBEN[1])
(Translated by Dr. Joseph Štýbr.)
It struck eleven of the night;
The little lamp still shed its light;
The little lamp was burning still
That hung above the kneeling sill.
Upon the wall of a low room
God’s mother’s image hung in gloom,
The mother with her Baby-God—
An open rose, a tender bud.
And at the feet of that great saint
A maiden’s kneeling with her plaint.
She knelt with her face bending low,
Her hands lay on her chest below;
Hot tears came dropping from her eyes,
Her breast rose high with grief and sighs,
And as a little tear would drop,
Upon her white breast it would stop.
“Alas! Where is my father gone?
With green grass his grave’s overgrown!
Alas! Where is my mother dear?
She’s lying by my father near!
A bullet brought my brother’s fall;
My sister shortly joined them all!
“I had a lover in my heart
For whom with life I’d gladly part.
He’s gone away—I’ve lost his track—
And up till now he came not back.
“While leaving, he allayed my fears,
He soothed my grief and dried my tears,
“ ‘Sow flax, my sweetheart, on your lay,
Keep thinking of me eve’ry day.
The first year you shall daily spin,
The second, bleach your linen thin,
The third year, work your needle, pin.
Your shirts once finished and laid down,
You’ll weave your blooming myrtle crown.’
“My shirts are finished, they are done;
They’re laid in my chest one by one;
My myrtle’s blossoms fade and fall;
My sweetheart does not come at all!
Far in the world he’s lost and gone
Like in the ocean’s depth a stone.
For three years he cannot be found,
And God knows if he’s alive and sound!
“Oh Mary! Virgin powerful!
Lend me thy help, be merciful!
Bring back my lover from afar,
The blossom of my bliss, my star!
Bring back my love from foreign land—
Or take my life by sudden end!
With him alone my life can bloom,
Without him ev’rything is gloom.
Oh Mary! Mother of relief,
Be merciful and sooth my grief!”
The picture moved above the light;
The maiden screamed aloud in fright;
The lamp which had been burning low
Burst with a crash and stopped to glow.
May be, it was a blast of wind,
May be—an omen of some kind!
Hark! On the walk there sounds a step,
And at the window ,rap, rap, rap!
“Halloo, dear! Do you wake or sleep?
Come, tell me how your health does keep?
Hoh, sweetheart I came at your will;
Tell me if you do know me still
Or someone else comes to your sill?”
“Oh darling me! For heaven’s sake!
I think of you just while I wake!
With you my thoughts have always stayed:
This minute yet for you I prayed!”
“Hah! quit your prayers—don’t stop long,
Arise and come with me along!
The moon shines bright on our ride:
I just arrived to claim my bride.”
“For God’s sake! Ah, what do you say?
It is so late,—Ah, let us stay!
The night is dark; the wind blows high;
Don’t go away—the daybreak’s nigh.”
“Hah, day is night and night is day—
I sleep in daytime, I can’t stay!
Before the roosters start to crow
You shall be mine—now let us go.
Don’t tarry long, spring to my side,
To-night yet you shall be my bride!”
The night was deep; upon the sky
The moon shone brightly from up high;
The village lay in deep repose;
A gust of wind at times arose.
- ↑ In that period of the Czech literature which followed after the general awakening of the Czech nation in the nineteenth century and the poetry of which is customarily called “classical”, the name of Karel Jaromir Erben (1811—1870) shines as a star of the first magnitude. Although his fame as a scientist and an historian is firmly engraved in the Czech historical literature side by side with his two great contemporaries, Palacký and Tomek, and although he has never been outdone as an untiring and most successful folklorist: it is his single volume of poetry “Kytice z pověstí narodních” (A Bouquet of National Legends) that made his name truly immortal and most beloved to the heart of every Czech. For, which of the Czechs does not know or is not able to recite more or less extensively the verses of his “Kytice”? By common consent of the people in general as well as of the literary critics the little volume is considered a jewel of so many pearls in the Czech poetry.The above translation presents to the readers of the Review one of the most popular poems of the book as an illustration of Erben’s muse. The Czech title of the poem is Svatební Košile (Wedding Shirts).
