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    HUNGARIAN >>>
       
       
  SAMPLES - IN QUEST OF THE MIRACLE STAG: THE POETRY OF HUNGARY
   
   
  THE LEGEND OF THE "MIRACULOUS HIND"
  by János Arany (q.v.)
   
 
The lark's aloft from bough to bough, Bright fishes are the river's gift,
the song is passed from lip to lip. and tawny game makes tasty food.
Green grass grows o'er old heroes now The bows are taut, the arrows swift,
but song revives their fellowship... and booty-our adventure's gift..."
   
Forth to the hunt they ride again On flies the bird, the song flies now
two brave sons that fair Enéh bore, of Enéh's son's fair fellowship:
Hunor and Magyar, champions twain, the lark's aloft from bough to bough
Ménrót's twin sons in days of yore. the song is passed from lip to lip.
   
Each chooses fifty doughty knights But soon they wish to venture out,
to go in escort at his side; they yearn for newer, different game-
armed as for bloody war's delights, as they get bored with fish and trout,
they seek out game in youthful pride. and so they enter on the plain.
   
Wild beasts in pools of blood they drag; And there across the level prairie
they slaughter all the elk they find; at dead of night, strange music streams,
they have already killed the stag, out in the wasteland, wide and airy,
and now they all pursue the hind. as if from heaven or in dreams.
   
They chase the hind continually There fairy maidens did subsist
along the Salt Sea's4 barren shore, and danced with joy in elfin measure;
where neither wolf nor bear may be housed in a tent of woven mist,
lest it be lost forevermore. they passed their nights in tuneful pleasure.
But 'cross those wastes of prairie earth No man may spy the elfin school;
the panther and the lion yelp; for mortal maids surpassing fair-
the tawny tiger there gives birth daughters of Kings, Belár and Dúl,
and in her hunger eats her whelp. are learning elfin magic there.
   
On flies the bird, the song flies on Fairest are Dúl's two girls to view,
of Enéh's sons' fair fellowship: old Belár's twelve are sweet and warm;
the lark's aloft from bough to bough, their company, five-score and two,
the song is passed from lip to lip. are poised to take on fairy form.
   
The sun is passing from their view,

To win it, each must kill a man,
piercing the clouds with fiery spears, bewitch nine youths with magic lure,
but still the hind they all pursue... tease them along to love's hot plan
at sunset, lo, it disappears. yet keep their own white bodies pure
   
They find themselves as daylight sinks Thus are they taught the fatal art
where Kur's broad waters sweep and swell. the fearful knowledge of the fairy;
on meadows by the river-brinks each night their progress they impart,
their weary steeds may pasture well. each night in dancing they make merry.
   
Says Hunor: "Let us bivouac, On flies the bird, the song flies now
water our steeds, and turn to rest." of Enéh's sons' fair fellowship-
Says Magyar: "When the dawn comes back, the lark's aloft from bough to bough,
let us go homeward from our quest." the song is passed from lip to lip.
   
But "ho, ho my heroes, knights of mine, The men follow the fairy-sound
what mystifying land is this? they stalk a-tiptoe on the sly;
To eastward see the sunset shine. the flickering lights they spy and hound,
it looks to human eyes amiss!" as if chasing a butterfly.
   
"It seems to me," a warrior claims Says Magyar: "Brother, that sweet fife
"the light from down south issues forth." tickles my marrow through and through!"
Another vowes "No, it remains Says Hunor: "Nothing in my life
and it is glowing in the north..." has stirred me as those maidens do!"-
   

Dismounting all, their steeds they tend

"Up, knights, and at them! Join the chase!
and slumber by the river's foam, Let each one bear a woman back,
and purposed, when the night should end, holding her tight in his embrace!
to journey with their escort home. The wind will cover up our track!"
   
The dawn is cool; a light wind blows;

They spur their horses on and fling,
the broad horizon brims with blue; the reins aside that they may seize
the hind across the river goes the maidens dancing in a ring
and bravely leaps before their view. all unprepared for deeds like these.
   
On flies the bird, the song flies now The girls run wild with piercing cries,
of Enéh's sons' fair fellowship: but fire and stream hem in their charms;
the lark's aloft from bough to bough, whichever way a virgin flies,
the song is passed from lip to lip. she falls into a rider's arms.
   
"Now, my quick lads! Speed on the chase, Away their fairy teachers fly,
let's catch this apparition hind!" on frightened wings they flutter free...
Blithe or reluctant, forth they race But what can mortal maidens try
and press on, to their task resigned. to save their sweet virginity?
   
So then they ford the river Kur, Now, in that place, no maid remains;
and find the waste-land still more wild; the horsemen gallop with a will,
no drop of water dews the moor exultant; and upon those plains
no blades of grass in verdure smile. the empty night is dark and still.
   
The crumbling surface of the land

On flies the bird, the song flies now
sweats soda from its sterile brow, of Enéh's sons' fair fellowship-
springs ooze with poison from the sand the lark's aloft from bough to bough,
and sulphur stinks in many a slough. the song is passed from lip to lip.
   
With bubbling oils the springs are bright; King Dúl's two daughters, the most fair,
they burn untended here and there; to Hunor and to Magyar fall.
like watch-fires in a gloomy night The hundred knights in rapture share
their fulgor flickers everywhere. the hundred girls, and love them all.
Each night they bitterly repent  
their longing for this game they traced Proud maids in time do reconcile,
with such unwearying intent though thwarted in their virgin plan.
into the mazes of the waste. They seek their homes no more, but smile
  atonement, bearing sons to man.
But when the dust of morning thins, Their isle becomes a country sweet;
to chase the hind their hearts are stirred their tents become a treasured home;
as thistledown obeys the winds their beds become a blest retreat,

or shadow-wings pursue the bird.

 from which they do not wish to roam.
   
On flies the bird, the song flies now They bring forth boys, brave clans to please,
of Enéh' sons' fair fellowship: fair girls they bear for love's warm hour-
the lark's aloft from bough to bough, the handsome slips of youthful trees
the song is passed from lip to lip. in place of their lost virgin flower.
   

They search the waste: they track the Don

 Heroic children, two by two,
as far as Meót's lesser sea; become the heads of every clan;
through boggy marshes they press on

five-score and eight their branches grow,
to isles of fenny greenery. and fertile marriage spreads their span.
   
And there the hind, like fleeting mist Brave Hunor's branch become the Huns,
of fog about her in the skies, and Magyar's is the Magyar nation;
-again? But how could they have missed?- beyond all number are the sons
now disappears before their eyes. that overrun their island station.
   
"Halloo!" they cry, "where is the game?" On Scythia then they sweep in spate,
"Yonder she dashes!" one does call. King Dúl's rich empire in the south-
Another shouts: "this way she came!" since when, O pair of heroes great,
A third: "she is not here at all..." your glory flies from mouth to mouth!
   
Through every nook and copse they search; Watson Kirkconnell, Anton N. Nyerges and
through every bush they track the hind, Adam Makkai
by lizard-lair and partridge-perch,  
but what they seek they cannot find.  
   
Then Magyar speaks with many a sigh:  
"Who knows the way that leads us back?  
on every side there's boundless sky-  
we'll perish on this far-off track."  
   
Says Hunor: "Let us not retreat!  
But build a camp and call it home-  
the grass here's soft, the water's sweet-  
and trees with sap are all afoam.  
   
   
   
   
   
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