Old Serbian Epic Poetry

[Slavni]

Kosovo Battle 1389.

The Fall of the Serbian Empire

From Jerusalem, the holy city,
Flying came a swift grey bird, a falcon,
And he carried in his beak a swallow.
But behold and see! ’Tis not a falcon,
’Tis the holy man of God, Elias,
And he does not bear with him a swallow,
But a letter from God’s Holy Mother.
Lo, he bears the letter to Kossovo,
Drops it on the Tsar’s knees from the heavens,
And thus speaks the letter to the monarch:
“Tsar Lazar, thou Prince of noble lineage,
What wilt thou now choose to be thy kingdom?
Say, dost thou desire a heav’nly kingdom,
Or dost thou prefer an earthly kingdom?
If thou should’st now choose an earthly kingdom,
Knights may girdle swords and saddle horses,
Tighten saddle-girths and ride to battle—
You will charge the Turks and crush their army!
But if thou prefer a heav’nly kingdom,
Build thyself a church upon Kossovo,
Let not the foundations be of marble,
Let them be of samite and of scarlet....
And to all thy warriors and their leaders
Thou shalt give the sacraments and orders,
For thine army shall most surely perish,
And thou too, shalt perish with thine army.”
When the Tsar had read the holy letter,
Ponder’d he, and ponder’d in this manner:
“Mighty God, what now shall this my choice be!
Shall I choose to have a heav’nly kingdom?
Shall I choose to have an earthly kingdom?
If I now should choose an earthly kingdom,
Lo, an earthly kingdom is but fleeting,
But God’s kingdom shall endure for ever.”
And the Tsar he chose a heav’nly kingdom,
And he built a church upon Kossovo,—
Did not bring foundation stones of marble
But he brought pure samite there and scarlet;
Summon’d there the Patriarch of Serbia,
Summon’d there with him the twelve archbishops.
Thus he gave the warriors and their leaders
Holy Sacrament and battle orders.
But no sooner gave the Prince his orders
Than the Turkish hordes swept on Kossovo.
And the Jug Bogdan leads there his army,
With his sons, the Jugovitch—nine brothers,
His nine sons like nine grey keen-eyed falcons,
Each of them commands nine thousand warriors,
And the Jug Bogdan commands twelve thousand [1].
With the Turks they fight there and they struggle,
And they smite and slay there seven pashas.
When the eighth advances to the battle
Then doth Jug Bogdan, the old knight, perish,
With his sons the Jugovitch—nine brothers,
His nine sons like nine grey keen-eyed falcons,
And with them doth perish all their army.
Moved their army three Mernyachevichi:
Ban Uglyesha and Voyvoda Goïko,
And the third, the mighty King Vukáshin;
And with each were thirty thousand warriors,
With the Turks do they there fight and struggle,
And they smite and slay eight Turkish pashas.
When the ninth advances to the battle
Then there perish two Mernyachevichi,
Ban Uglyesha and Voyvoda Goïko;
Many ugly wounds has King Vukáshin,
Turks and horses wade in blood above him,
And with him doth perish all his army.
Moved his army then Voyvoda Stefan;
And with him are many mighty warriors,
Many mighty warriors—sixty thousand.
With the Turks do they there fight and struggle,
And they smite and slay nine Turkish pashas.
When the tenth advances to the battle,
There doth perish the Voyvoda Stefan,
And with him doth perish all his army.
Then advances Tsar Lazar the Glorious,
With him moves a might host of Serbians,
Seven and seventy thousand chosen warriors.
They disperse the Turks upon Kossovo,
No time had the Turks to look upon them,
Still less time had they to stem the onslaught;
Tsar Lazar and all his mighty warriors
There had overwhelm’d the unbelievers,
But—the curse of God be on the traitor,
On Vuk Brankovitch,—he left his kinsman,
He deserted him upon Kossovo:
And the Turks o’erwhelmed Lazar the Glorious,
And the Tsar fell on the field of battle;
And with him did perish all his army,
Seven and seventy thousand chosen warriors.
All was done with honour, all was holy,
God’s will was fulfilled upon Kossovo

[Slavni]

Serbian Epic Poetry

Tsar Lazar and Tsaritsa Militsa

Tsar Lazar sits at the evening banquet,
With him sits the Tsaritsa Militsa;
Says to him the Tsaritsa Militsa:
“Tsar Lazar, oh golden crown of Serbia,
Thou wilt go to-morrow to Kossovo,
And wilt lead the men-at-arms and nobles,
But thou leavest no one in the castle
Who for me could carry hence a message
To Kossovo, and bring back your greeting.
Thou dost lead away my nine dear brothers,
Thou dost lead away nine Jugovitchi;
Leave me one at least of these my brothers,
That I have a brother left to swear by.”
Then the Serbian prince Lazar makes answer:
“Oh dear lady, Tsaritsa Militsa,
Tell me thou then, which of thy nine brothers
I shall leave with thee in thy white castle.”
“Leave me Boshko Jugovitch, oh monarch!”
And the Serbian prince Lazar makes answer:
“Oh dear lady, Tsaritsa Militsa,
When the white day dawns again to-morrow,
When the day dawns and the bright sun rises
And the great gates of the city open,
Walk then, lady, to the city portals;
That way goes the army in its splendour,—
All the battle-horses with their lancers.
Boshko Jugovitch will ride before them,
In his hand will bear the battle-standard,
And then stay with thee in thy white castle.”
When the dawn has broken on the morrow,
And the great gates of the city open,
Then walks out the Tsaritsa Militsa;
She stands there beside the city portals
And beholds the army in its splendour:
All the battle-horses with their landers,
Boshko Jugovitch before them riding.
Of the finest cloth-of-gold his garments,
And the standard with a cross emblazon’d,
Oh my brothers, falls in folds around him,
Covers him and rests upon his charger.
On the standard, lo, a golden apple,
From the apple rise the golden crosses,
From the crosses hang long golden tassels
And the tassels droop upon his shoulders.
Closer comes the Tsaritsa Militsa,
Catches at the war-horse by its bridle,
Puts her arm around her brother’s shoulder
And begins to whisper to him softly:
“Boshko Jugovitch, oh thou my brother,
Now to me the Tsar Lazar doth give thee,
And thou shalt not ride with him to battle,
Shalt not ride with him unto Kossovo;
And he bids me tell thee with his blessing
Thous shalt give to whom thou wilt the standard
And remain with me here in Kroushévatz,
That I have a brother left to swear by.”
Boshko Jugovitch then makes her answer:
“Go Militsa, to thy fair white tower,
For I may not stay with thee, my sister,
Nor let from my hand the battle-standard
That the Tsar gave to me at Kroushévatz;
For I will not that my comrades mock me:
See the coward! See the coward Boshko!
He who rode not with Lazar to battle,
Dared not ride with him unto Kossovo,
There to shed his blood for Christ his honour,
For the Holy Cross to fight and perish.”
And he spurred his charger through the gateway.
Came the Jug Bogdan her father, riding,
And with him rode seven Jugovitchi,
But not one of them did look upon her....
And when they had passed out through the gateway
Far behind there came her brother Voïn
Leading with him Tsar Lazar’s great chargers
Covered with their shining golden trappings.
She holds Voïn’s grey horse by its bridle,
Puts her arm around her brother’s shoulder,
Holds him thus, and whispers to him softly:
“Voïn Jugovitch, oh thou my brother,
Now to me the Tsar Lazar doth give thee,
And he bids me tell thee with his blessing
Thou shalt give to whom thou wilt his chargers,
And remain with me here in Kroushévatz
That I have a brother left to swear by.”
Voïn Jugovitch then makes her answer:
“Go Militsa, to thy fair white tower,
I a hero, may not leave my comrades,
Nor give up the Tsar’s steeds to another,
Even knowing that I die in battle.
I go now, oh sister, to Kossovo,
There to shed my blood for Christ his honour,
For the faith to die there with my brothers.”
And he spurred his charger through the gateway.
Seeing this, the Tsaritsa Militsa
Falls down lifeless on the cold hard roadway;
And behold, the Tsar himself comes riding.
When he sees the Tsaritsa Militsa
Down the Tsar’s face are the fast tears falling,
He looks to his right hand and his left hand,
Calls to him then Goluban, his servant:
“Goluban, oh thou my faithful servant,
Now dismount thee from they swan-white charger,
By her fair white hands lift up my lady,
Carry her unto the slender tower;
From thine oath to me hath God now loosed thee,
Thou shalt not ride with me to Kossovo,
But shalt stay behind here, in the castle.”
When the servant Goluban has heard this,
Down his white face are the fast tears falling,
He obeys, and stays his swan-white charger,
By her fair white hands lifts up his lady,
Brings her then unto the slender tower;
But his heart cannot endure the order
That he rides not with his lord to battle,
And he goes back to his swan-white charger,
Mounts him, and rides swiftly to Kossovo.
On the morrow when the dawn has broken,
Flying, come two ravens, two black ravens [2],
Flying from the wide plain of Kossovo;
They alight upon the slender tower,
On the tower of Lazar the Glorious;
Croaks the first, begins to speak the second:
“Is this Tsar Lazar’s white slender tower,
In this tower is there none that liveth?”
In the tower nobody has heard them,
Saving only Tsaritsa Militsa;
She comes down from her white slender tower,
And she asks the ravens, two black ravens,
“Whence do you come flying here this morning?
Tell me, have you seen two mighty armies?
Do these mighty armies fight together?
Which of these two armies doth now conquer?”
Answer her the ravens, two black ravens:
“God be with you, Tsaritsa Militsa,
We come from the wide plain of Kossovo,
On the plain we saw two mighty armies,
Yesterday the armies fought together,
And both monarchs perished in the fighting.
Of the Turkish hordes a few are living,
And a few are living of the Serbians,
Living, but sore wounded all, and bleeding.”
As the two black ravens thus were speaking,
Lo, came riding Milutin the servant,
In his left hand, see, he bears his right hand,
He has countless wounds upon his body,
And his horse is bathed in blood beneath him.
Questions him the Tsaritsa Militsa:
“Milutin, what evil thing hath happened?
Hast thou left thy lord upon Kossovo?”
Milutin the servant makes her answer:
“Help me to dismount, I beg thee, lady,
Bathe me also with the cooling water,
And with red wine let my lips be moisten’d,
For my wounds have nearly overcome me.”
Then the Tsaritsa Militsa helps him,
Bathes his cruel wounds with cooling water,
And his lips with good red wine she moistens.
When the servant’s heart revives within him
Questions him the Tsaritsa Militsa:
“Milutin, how went it on Kossovo?
Where Lazar, the Prince of Serbia, perished,
Where the Jug Bogdan, my father, perished,
And where perished his nine sons, my brothers;
Where the brave Voyvoda Milosh perished,
Where Vuk Brankovitch with them has perished,
And where perished mighty Ban Strahinya.”
Milutin the servant tells his story:
“All remain, oh lady, on Kossovo,
Where has fallen Tsar Lazar the Glorious.
There are broken many battle-lances,
Serbian lance and Turkish, both are broken,
But more Serbian lances broke than Turkish
While defending Tsar Lazar, oh lady,
Glorious Tsar Lazar, the lord of Serbia.
And the Jug Bogdan has fallen also,
And with him eight Jugovitchi, lady;
There where no man would desert his brothers
Whilst a single one could move his weapon,
Boshko Jugovitch still fought, oh lady;
Raged the battle round him on Kossovo
And he threw the Turks into disorder
As the falcon strikes the homing pigeons.
And there perished mighty Ban Strahinya,
There too, perished Milosh, oh dear lady,
By Sitnitsa, by the chilly water,
There where very many Turks have fallen.
Milosh slew the Turkish Sultan, Murad,
And he also slew of Turks twelve thousand [1].
May God bless the woman who has borne him!
He left glory to the name of Serbia
While there lives a people and Kossovo.
And what of th’ accurséd Vuk, you ask me!
Curséd he, and curséd she who bore him,
Cursed his race unto all generations!
He betrayed the Tsar upon Kossovo,
Led away with him twelve thousand warriors,
Mighty men-at-arms, oh my dear mistress.”

Introduction
Note on Spelling
The Poems:
The Fall of the Serbian Empire
(Propast Carstva Srpskoga)
Tsar Lazar and Tsaritsa Militsa
(Car Lazar i Carica Milica)
The Banquet on the Eve of the Battle
(Večera u Kruševcu), fragment
Kossanchitch and Milosh
(Kosančić i Miloš), fragment
Musitch Stefan
(Musić Stevan)
Tsaritsa Militsa and the Voyvoda Vladeta
(Carica Milica i Vladeta Vojvoda)
The Maiden of Kossovo
(Kosovka Djevojka)
The Death of the Mother of the Jugovitch
(Smrt Majke Jugovića)
The Miracle of Tsar Lazar
Other Resources
Historical Notes
Glossary
Footnotes

[Slavni]

These songs are usually performed by guslars on old Serbian traditional music instrument gusle.Gusle is an very old instrument played all over the Serb lands. Its songs were basic and often the only way to hand down traditions and memory of Serb people during the rule of foreigners. People gathered around gusle players and listened epic songs about Serb heroes and suffering of Serb nation. Very often, large crowd and players began to cry touched by very emotional contents. It is said that in the year of 1189 grand Serb chieftain Stefan Nemanja saw German Emperor Frederick Barbarossa off from the city of Nis to Third Crusade with the sounds of gusle songs. Montenegrin prince-bishop, greatest Serb poet and father of modern Serb national identity Petar II Petrovic Njegos, in his poem "The Mountain Wreath" through words of his literature hero Vuk Micunovic said: "In a house where the gusle is not heard, both the house and the people there are dead".
You can see statue of legendary blind guslar Filip Visnjic and modern guslar.

[Slavni]

Here you can hear sample of gusle performing

[Slavni]

The ballads of Serbia occupy a high position, perhaps the highest position, in the ballad literature of Europe. Of them Jacob Grimm wrote: “They would, if well known, astonish Europe,” and “in them breathes a clear and inborn poetry such as can scarcely be found among any other modern people.”1 The origin of this popular literature goes back to a period of which no written record exists; its known history dates from the fourteenth century, since which time it is absolutely continuous. And in Servia, unlike England and Spain, ballads still survive as an important part of the nation’s intellectual life; they are still sung, and still composed, by peasant poets who have received their training from oral tradition instead of from the printed page.
http://sacred-texts.com/neu/hbs/index.htm

[Slavni]

The death of the Parson Milo Jovovic

In the years when Montenegro men decided
That all the Turks must be abolished
In the Montenegro camp near the Tower of Lekovic
Someone slandered the name of parson Milo Jovovic
So the lord said to Milo in front of all the dukes
Parson Milo, are you with us or against us
As soon as Milo heard this, he grabbed his sabre’s hilt
And glared intently at the lord’s suite
All the other nobles froze in fright
Of him killing the Montenegro ruler on sight
Instead, with his soul on fire, he yelled,
My lord, god be with you, what have you said!
He left the lord and dukes furious with anger
And headed for his tent barely controlling his temper
In his rage he grabbed to play gusle, the chords almost tore
His shout went across the cliffs, on his mother’s life he swore
On going unescorted down to town of Nikshic
And calling on a duel the mighty captain Mushovic
He threw away the gusle, mounted his stallion
And galloped across river Zeta, heading for the town doors
The horse rode down the slopes as if gifted with wings
The Turkish guards could easily see him approaching
Milo came nearer and nearer to Turkish ramparts
With his stallion exhausted, fighting for it’s breath
Accordingly to his own renowned name as a fighter
Parson Milo charged at the toughest town tower
If he is to die, then may he die like a man
By a well known and mighty hero’s hand
The Turkish stopped him at the gate
Fetch me Mushovic, he yelled out straight
As soon as the Turks recognized his face
To the captain’s quarters they started to race
When Mushovic came out and saw Milo’s presence
He rejoiced at this unexpected appearance
What wind brought you here, in a jolly voce he said
Has the Montenegro Lord also put up a price for your head?
You’re welcomed to stay, and we’ll even give you a pardon
Your life is now in safe hands, trust me, parson
Milo burst in anger, Enough, stop acting like a fool
For I have come, captain, to challenge you to a duel!
So get ready and come out to choose your weapon
These words struck the captain like a cannon
He dared not showing to the famous rebel even his nose
For he knew that Milo’s sabre had made a lot of widows
Won’t accept the duel, scared out of his mind
He threw his family’s fame and good name aside
And like a coward secretly signaled to a guard
A gun went of, Milo got shot and fell to the ground
The stallion jolted and galloped across the Zeta river
Heading for Milo, the Turks run down the tower
Pushing and shoving, fighting for the privilege
Of being the first to try on Milo their sabre’s edge
Ferizovic Hasan came up to him first
Sabre hissed, head fell, the blood burst
High up on the town gates, on the top of tower Mushovic
The Turks spiked the head of parson Milo Jovovic
Milo faced, from the top of the town gate
The Turks feasting and celebrating his grim fate
A black raven bird had a pleasant surprise
When it saw the parson’s head bleeding on the spike
So it started to fly down, approaching the parson
To disfigure his face, according to the old custom
Secretly, from the harem, the Turkish women stared
Trying to get a look at the famous Serbian parson’s head