When the lady heard her lord’s commandments, Down she sat all sorrowful and gloomy; To herself she thought, and said in silence, —“And shall I attempt it?—I, poor cuckoo! Shall I kill my brother—kill with poison!— ’Twere a monstrous crime before high heaven, ’Twere a sin and shame before my people. Great and small would point their fingers at me, Saying,—‘That is the unhappy woman, That is she who kill’d her husband’s brother!’ But if I refuse to poison Bogdan, Never will my husband come to bless me!” Thus she thought, until a thought relieved her; She descended to the castle’s cavern, Took the consecrated cup of blessing. ’Twas a cup of beaten gold her father Had bestow’d upon his daughter’s nuptials; Full of golden wine she fill’d the vessel, And she bore it to her brother Bogdan. Low to earth she bow’d herself before him, And she kiss’d his hands and garments meekly.
“Lo! I bring to thee this cup, my brother! This gold cup, with golden wine o’erflowing. Give me for my cup a horse and falcon.” Bogdan heard the lady speak complacent, And most cheerfully gave steed and falcon.
Meanwhile through the day was Dmitar wandering In the mountain-forest; nought he found there; But chance brought him at the fall of evening To a green lake far within the forest, Where a golden-pinion’d duck was swimming. Dmitar loosen’d then his grey-winged falcon, Bade him seize the golden-pinion’d swimmer. Faster than the hunter’s eye could follow, Lo! the duck had seized the grey-wing’d falcon, And against his sides had crush’d his pinion. Soon as Dmitar Jakshich saw, he stripp’d him— Stripp’d him swiftly of his hunting garments; Speedily into the lake he plunged him, And he bore his falcon from its waters. Then with pitying voice he ask’d his falcon: “Hast thou courage yet, my faithful falcon! Now thy wings are from thy body riven?”
Whispering, said the falcon to his master: “I without my pinions nought resemble, But a brother riven from a brother.” Then the thought pierced through the breast of Dmitar, That his wife was charged to kill his brother. Swift he threw him on his mighty courser— Swift he hurried to Bijōgrad’s { 62} fortress, Praying that his brother had not perished.
He had hardly reach’d the bridge of Chekmel, { 63} When he spurr’d his raven steed so fiercely, That the impetuous courser’s feet sank under, And were crushed and broken on the pavement. In his deep perplexity and trouble, Dmitar took the saddle off his courser, Flung it on the courser’s nether haunches, And he fled alone to Belgrad’s fortress. First he sought, impatient, for his lady— “Angelia! thou my bride all faithful! Tell me, tell me, hast thou kill’d my brother?” Sweet indeed was Angelia’s answer: “No! indeed, I have not killed thy brother; To thy brother have I reconciled thee.”