{"collection":"Northern European Mythology","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/browse/neu/hbs/hbs36.htm","path":"neu/hbs/hbs36.htm","source_url":"https://sacred-texts.com/neu/hbs/hbs36.htm","text":"Ivo\u2019s mother dreamed that darkness was risen Senye around,\nThat the clear sky was broken and the bright moon fell to the ground\nOn R\u00fazhitsa church in Senye, and the stars fled far and wide,\nAnd the daystar rose up bloody, and the cuckoo to her cried\u2014\nIn Senye\u2019s midst on the holy roof of R\u00fazhitsa did he perch.\nThe woman awoke and took her crutch and hastened to the church,\nAnd told the Archpriest N\u00e9delko what dream was come to her,\nAnd to her the priest made clear the dream as an interpreter:\n\u201cHearest thou, mother! Ill hast thou dreamed and evil soon will be.\nIn that darkness rose round Senye, \u2019twill be desolate for thee.\nIn that the sky was broken and the bright moon fell to the ground\nOn R\u00fazhitsa, Ivo will perish; he hath reached his term and bound.\nIn that the stars fled far and wide, will many a widow moan.\nIn that bloody rose the daystar, thou wilt be as a cuckoo alone.\nIn that it sang on the R\u00fazhitsa, the Turks will overthrow\nR\u00fazhitsa, and, though old I be, the Turks will lay me low.\u201d\nHardly had he done speaking, when before them Ivo stood.\nThe great black steed he rode upon was soaked with the dark blood;\nHe had seventeen wounds; in his left hand his cleft right hand he bore.\nHe drove the black steed onward the great white church before.\nTo his mother he spake: \u201cFrom the black steed take me down, mother mine,\nAnd wash me with cold water and purify with wine.\u201d\nSwift she obeyed: she took him down from the steed fierce and fine;\nShe washed him with cold water, and o\u2019er him poured the wine.\nHis mother asked him: \u201cWhat, my son, in Italy befell?\u201d\nIvo spake:\n\u201cMother, in Italy all things went swift and well;\nEnough slaves we took, mother, and enough of treasure bright;\nSafe we turned home. When we were at the camp of the first night,\nA first pursuit o\u2019ertook us, black warriors that sped\nUpon black steeds; black turbans they wore about the head.\nWe fired one volley, mother, we slew them all in fight;\nOf us none perished, mother. At the camp of the second night\nThe second pursuit o\u2019ertook us; the furious heroes sped\nUpon white steeds, white turbans they wore about the head.\nWe fired one volley, mother; we slew them all in fight.\nOf us none perished, mother. At the camp of the third night\nThe third pursuit o\u2019ertook us; black cloaks, long guns did they bear.\nWe fired a single volley, and began to fight them there;\nOf them none perished, mother; of us all fell in the fray,\nExcepting thy son Ivo, at last that got away.\nAnd he is wounded; in his left hand his right hand hath he brought.\u201d\nSo Ivo spake, and forthwith with his dear soul he fought;\nHe breathed, and released from prison thereby was the spirit light.\nHe died, and his ancient mother\u2014O evil was her plight!\nMay God give him a dwelling place in pleasant paradise,\nAnd health to us, my brethren, and merriment likewise!","title":"THE DEATH OF IVO OF SENYE","type":"page"}