"These are not the steeds of Father Asan;
'Tis our uncle Pintorovich coming!"
And the wife of Asan turned to meet him;
Sobbing, threw her arms around her brother.
"See the wrongs, brother, of thy sister!
These five babes I bore and must I leave them?"
Silently the brother, from his girdle,
Draws the ready deed of separation,
Wrapped within a crimson silken cover.
She is free to seek her mother's dwelling—
Free to join in wedlock with another.
When the woeful lady saw the writing,
Kissed she both her boys upon the forehead,
Kissed on both the cheeks her sobbing daughters;
But she cannot tear herself for pity
From the infant smiling in the cradle!
Rudely did her brother tear her from it,
Deftly lifted her upon a courser,
And in haste towards his father's dwelling,
Spurred he onward with the woeful lady.
Short the space; seven days, but barely seven—
Little space I ween—by many nobles
Was the lady—still in weeds of mourning—
Was the lady courted in espousal.
Far the noblest was Imoski's cadi;
And the dame in tears besought her brother
"I adjure thee, by the life thou bearest,
Give me not a second time in marriage,
That my heart may not be rent asunder
If again I see my darling children!"
