{"collection":"Northern European Mythology","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/browse/neu/hbs/hbs37.htm","path":"neu/hbs/hbs37.htm","source_url":"https://sacred-texts.com/neu/hbs/hbs37.htm","text":"WHILE still men dreamed not of the dawn, the gates were opened wide\nIn \u00dadbina, and from the town a squadron forth did ride.\nFour and thirty friends are there; before them is Mustay Bey,\nThe lord of Lika;1 to Kunor wood he went to hunt that day.\nFor half a week he hunted, but nothing came to hand;\nTo \u00dadbina and Lika he went homeward through the land;\nWhen down through the fir forest to a spring be turned aside,\nTo drink and rest. He cast his eye \u2019neath a green fir that tide;\nBut when Mustay Bey of Lika came, the twigs of the fir tree shone.\nA drunken warrior lay asleep in the fir wood alone;\nAll in the pure gold was he clad and in the silver fine;\nOn his head he wore a splendid cap with silver feathers nine,\nAnd set beside the feathers a great wing silver-wrought;\nFor a thousand ducats and no less the silver wing was bought.\nOn his shoulders the hero weareth a mantle great and green,\nAnd thirty knobs of yellow gold thereon are to be seen,\nEach one of a golden measure; and one \u2019neath the neck is worn,\nThree measure weight with a screw that opes, and brandy that holds in the morn.\nOn the mantle are three golden plates, of the weight of four good pound;\nTwo were of twisted goldwork, and one did the smelters found.\nHis breeches had golden buckles; and yellow, rich to see,\nWere his legs as any falcon\u2019s from the ankle to the knee.\nFrom the buckles hung fine golden chains, and from them trinkets fair,\nSuch as the slender maidens aye at their sweet throats wear.\nAt his splendid belt were pistols of the Damascus gold,\nSilver-inlaid was the great blade, with three gold hilts to hold;\nIn them are set three precious stones; it is worth three towns of the tsar.\nOn his breast was a musket, and golden the thirty hoops of it are,\nAnd each hoop worth ten ducats, and thirty, one by the sight;\nThere was more of gold on the musket than of steel hammered and bright.\nWhen the hero rose upward from the grass, the fir twigs crackled then,\nBut the Bey of Lika pinned him down with his four and thirty men.\nWhen the hero looked up from the grass with a black and lowering eye,\nHe saw that the Turks had pinned him down, and his weapons were not by.\nOne of his foes with his great arms he gripped as with a girth;\nThe living heart was burst in the Turk as he hurled him to the earth;\nAnd seven others, moreover, he slaughtered of the band,\nBefore the Turks could master the strength of the white hand.\nBut they captured him, and forthwith the white hand did they bind,\nAnd drove him to white \u00dadbina with his weapons tied behind,\nThat great and small might marvel how Mustay, of Lika the Bey,\nSuch a warrior with his weapons had taken in the fray.\nAnd Mustay spake to him as through the open field they came:\n\u201cGod\u2019s love! Whence comest thou, lord unknown? What do men call thy name?\nWhither wast thou going, and whither have thy comrades gone away?\u201d\nHast thou heard of the Latin seacoast, and Kot\u00e1ri1 set thereon,\nAnd of Stoyan, the son of Yanko? I am Stoyan, Yanko\u2019s son,\nAnd I had no other comrade than God and myself alone;\nAnd I had taken counsel to descend beneath thy tower,\nAnd the slender maiden, Ha\u00fdkuna, to lure her in that hour,\nAnd take her to Kot\u00e1ri\u2014but it was not God\u2019s decree;\nThe thrice accurs\u00e8d liquor it overmastered me!\u201d\nSaid Mustay, the Bey of Lika: \u201cStoyan, well mayst thou speed!\nThou hast fallen into a hero\u2019s hands who will find thee a wife indeed!\u201d\nAmid their speech to \u00dadbina at last they made their way,\nBeneath the tower of Mustay, of Lika that was Bey;\nAnd great and small came out to gaze on the squadron in that hour,\nAnd Ha\u00fdkuna, Mustay\u2019s sister dear, looked down from the slender tower.\nAt the tambour frame of coral a needle of glass doth she hold,\nAnd she weaveth through the linen white a gallant thread of gold.\nAnd when she saw the squadron forth from the forest come,\nThat led a fettered hero with his shining weapons home,\nThe tambour frame before her with her hand she thrust away\u2014\nTwo of its legs were shattered\u2014and to herself did she say:\n\u201cDear God, a mighty marvel, a hero in evil stead!\nBy what guile did they bind him, for he is not wounded nor dead?\u201d\nBut when she reckoned the squadron, were lacking seven men.\nWhen the squadron came \u2019neath the white tower, she took his weapons then,\nAnd bore away his weapons in the treasury to keep.\nStoyan they cast in a prison that was fifty fathom deep;\nTherein to the knees of the hero the water doth arise,\nAnd the bones of captive Christians to his shoulder reach likewise.\nThe bey went unto the new inn, with his men the wine to drain,\nAnd to boast to the Turks of \u00dadbina what a captive he had ta\u2019en.\nThe fair maid went to the dungeon door with a bucket of wine that tide;\nShe lowered it with a strong cord, and unto the hero cried:\n\u201cO hero, God protect thee, nor slay thee here in shame!\nWhence art thou? what is thy country? what dost thou call thy name?\nHow did the Turks deceive thee, when thine arms behind they tied?\u201d\nStoyan drank of the yellow wine, and to the damsel cried:\n\u201cWho calls from the white dungeon? My throat hath drunken full.\nWith the windlass half way up the hold the hero shalt thou pull;\nFrom thence will I tell the story.\u201d\nThe maiden harkened thereto;\nThe rope with hooks of steel let down, and half way up she drew.\nStoyan the son of Yanko. He questioned her and said:\n\u201cWho calls from the white dungeon?\u201d Then appeared the Turkish maid:\n\u201cEven I, unknown hero, the sister of Mustay Bey.\u201d\nStoyan answered:\n\u201cO Ha\u00fdkuna, may God in heaven thee slay!\nI am Stoyan the son of Yanko, and in prison because of thee.\nThe Turks beguiled me when I was drunk, and bound have they taken me.\u201d\nFain would the Turks destroy thee. They will question thee tomorn\nWhether to be a Moslem thy faith thou wilt put aside.\nBecome a Moslem, Stoyan; and I will be thy bride.\nMy brother, the Bey of Lika, two treasure towers hath he,\nOne his, one mine; if he dieth first, mine and thine shall they be.\u201d\nSpake Stoyan:\n\u201cThou: damsel, Ha\u00fdkuna, no more like a mad girl rave!\nThough \u00dadbina and Lika into my hand they gave,\nBy God I would not turn Moslem! In Kot\u00e1ri my treasure lay,\nMore than the Turks\u2019, and a hero better am I than they.\nIf God it grant, fair damsel, before the noon hour ring,\nThe captains of Kot\u00e1ri over \u00dadbina shall spring,\nOver and roundabout it, and hence shall they rescue me.\u201d\nSaid the maid:\n\u201cSpeak not like a madman; ere that they will slaughter thee.\nBut to take me to be thy wedded wife, firm will thy faith remain,\n\u201cFirm is my faith, fair damsel, I will take thee before all;\nVerily on mine honor I will not deceive thee at all.\u201d\nWhen the damsel heard, in the prison she lowered him in that hour,\nAnd she wended her own way forthwith unto the slender tower.\nA little time went after this; from the inn came forth the bey,\nAnd the maiden staggered before him, as a fit were on her that day.\nMustay the Bey asked of her: \u201cWhat aileth thee, sister dear?\u201d\nShe said:\n\u201cA pain of the head and the heart is fallen upon me here;\nA chill is come upon me; \u2019twere better, brother, to die.\nBut seat thee on the soft cushions, that I on thy breast may lie,\nAnd there at last surrender my spirit in its sin.\u201d\nMustay the Bey was sorry, for he had no other kin,\nAnd over his white features the bitter tears he shed.\nHe sat upon the cushions, on his bosom she drooped her head;\nOne hand she laid on his bosom, with the other did she seize\nIn her dear brother\u2019s pocket the stable and prison keys,\nAnd the key of the treasure likewise. Then tossed she where she lay\nOn the cushion, and to his sister made question Mustay the Bey:\n\u201cHas not God granted thee, sister, that the pain should pass away?\u201d\n\u201cBrother, he has, may God be thanked!\u201d And he went to the roof outside,\nTo counsel with them of \u00dadbina how Stoyan should die that tide.\nBut the maiden leaped to her feet, and wide the treasury door she threw;\nAnd saddlebags of ducats and Stoyan\u2019s armor, too,\nShe gathered in that hour from the dungeon white and cold.\nShe let out Stoyan, and led him from the cellars of the hold;\nAnd released the steeds from the stables: the good white steed of the bey,\nThat ever more he rode upon in the heroic fray,\nAnd the black steed of his lady; swifter is none in the land.\nThe damsel mounted the white, but the black is under Stoyan\u2019s hand,\nAnd forthwith over the broad field swiftly they got them gone\nOver Og\u00f3ryelitsa, and from Kunor the wood, and on\nFrom Kunor to K\u00f3tari. Then the son of Yanko said:\n\u201cGrievously am I weary, O Ha\u00fdkuna the maid!\nDismount from the white charger; of sleep I have sore need.\u201d\nBut she said:\n\u201cBy thy courage, Stoyan! Drive forward the black steed\nOn unto flat Kot\u00e1ri; sleep cometh with little aid.\nBut for some squadron of the Turks yet am I sore afraid!\u201d\nBut he harkened not. From the horses they descended on the grass;\nWith his head on her bosom Stoyan slept; like a foolish lamb he was.\nBut the maiden cannot slumber. Before the white day\u2019s hour\nThe bey\u2019s wife rose to visit the girl in the slender tower.\nVery sick was the damsel, when darkness fell yestreen,\nBut now in the slender tower no more the girl is seen;\nAnd the money from the treasury is gathered up and gone,\nAnd no longer in the dungeon lieth Stoyan, Yanko\u2019s son.\nForthwith came back the woman into the slender tower;\nShe fired the great alarum gun suddenly in that hour.\nOn the green roof the bey heard it; what was come to pass he knew,\nAnd swiftly with his fingers he searched his pockets through,\nAnd found that from his pockets the keys were stolen away.\n\u201cMy brothers, men of \u00dadbina!\u201d then shouted Mustay Bey,\n\u201cStoyan, the son of Yanko, with the maid is fled abroad.\nUp on your feet, my brethren, as ye believe in God!\u201d\nStrange is the Turkish use. Their steeds were ready saddled there;\nThey seized their steeds and over the wide field did they fare.\nThey reached the Kunor wood, and through the forest did they pass\nUnto Kot\u00e1ri. Ha\u00fdkuna looked up from the green grass;\nOften she looked to Kunor. A crest rose far away,\nThe dust of horses and heroes, and she knew her brother, the bey,\nAnd the thirty men of \u00dadbina. Stoyan she dares not wake,\nBut above the face of Stoyan she weepeth for his sake.\nWhen Stoyan started from slumber, he bespake her in this wise:\n\u201cWhat ails thee, Turkish damsel, that the tears run from thine eyes?\nDost thou weep for thy brother, Mustay Bey, and his great treasury?\nOr haply is it that Stoyan no longer pleases thee?\u201d\nQuoth the maiden:\n\u201cSorrow-stricken may thy mother be this tide!\nI weep not for my brother nor the treasure of his pride.\nWe have brought the treasure with us, in the midst of my heart art thou;\nBut the bey with the thirty of \u00dadbina is hard upon us now.\nRide the black to Kot\u00e1ri; our lives are thrown away!\u201d\nWhen Stoyan heard the damsel, unto her did he say:\n\u201cBy God, I will not, maiden! They have stirred my anger up;\nThey pinned me down on the grass when I had drunken of the cup.\nNow will I make exchange of gifts with thy brother, dear indeed!\nDo thou ride the black charger, and give me the white steed;\nThe white is a little better, when I go thy brother to meet.\u201d\nStoyan leapt on the good white steed; the black she mounted fleet,\nAnd galloped to white Kot\u00e1ri; but Stoyan against the bey.\nAnd it were worth the trouble, to sit and watch the fray,\nAnd behold a mighty marvel, how thirty smote at one:\nThe palace that sent thirty forth waits the return of none.\nStoyan smote off the thirty heads, and he seized on Mustay Bey;\nHands bound behind, he drove him to where the damsel lay.\nHe spake to the damsel as he drew the silver-hilted blade:\n\u201cThus, Ha\u00fdkuna, \u2019twixt brothers exchange of gifts is made!\u201d\nHe swung the silver-hilted sword, but she threw her arms on high:\n\u201cBy thy courage, leave a sister a brother for swearing by!\nFor thee also a sister might weep, and be full of woe.\nTurn him now back to \u00dadbina, and give him leave to go.\u201d\nStoyan turned back the saber; tighter he bound the bey,\nAnd set his face toward \u00dadbina, and unto him did say:\n\u201cWhen thou comest unto \u00dadbina, to drink with the men thereby,\nTell thou the whole truth to them, nor ever speak a lie;\nAnd here will I grant thy life to thee in the fierce single fray.\u201d\nForth in his bonds to \u00dadbina alone went back the bey;\n1 Lika is a district in Croatia. Mustay Bey is the favorite hero of the Mohammedan Serbs of Bosnia, in whose popular poetry he occupies a place like that of Prince Marko in the ballads of their Orthodox kinsmen. See Murko, \u201cDie Volksepik der bosnischen Mohammedaner,\u201d in Zeitschrift des Vereins f\u00fcr Volkskunde, Berlin, 1909, pp. 13-30.","title":"THE MARRIAGE OF STOYAN Y\u00c1NKOVICH","type":"page"}