Flying came a pair of coal-black ravens
Far away from the broad field of Mishar,
Far from Shabatz, from the high white fortress;
Bloody were their beaks unto the eyelids,
Bloody were their talons to the ankles;
And they flew along the fertile Matshva,
Waded quickly through the billowy Drina,
Journey'd onward through the honoured Bosnia,
Lighting down upon the hateful border,
'Midst within the accursed town of Vakup,
On the dwelling of the captain Kulin;
Lighting down and croaking as they lighted.

Three or four poems, of which courtships or weddings are the subjects,
begin with a description of the beauty of the girl. Especially rich
and complete is the following:

Never since the world had its beginning,
Never did a lovelier flow'ret blossom,
Than the flow'ret in our own days blooming;
Haikuna, the lovely maiden flower.

She was lovely, nothing e'er was lovelier!
She was tall and slender as the pine-tree;
White her cheeks, but tinged with rosy blushes,
As if morning's beam had shone upon them,
Till that beam had reached its high meridian.
And her eyes, they were two precious jewels,

And her eyebrows, leeches from the ocean,
And her eyelids they were wings of swallows;
And her flaxen braids were silken tassels;
And her sweet mouth was a sugar casket,
And her teeth were pearls arrayed in order;
White her bosom, like two snowy dovelets,
And her voice was like the dovelet's cooing;
And her smiles were like the glowing sunshine;
And her fame, the story of her beauty,
Spread through Bosnia and through Herz'govina.

We should never end, if we continued thus to extract all the beautiful
and striking passages from the Servian popular lyrics; although their
chief merit by no means consists in beautiful passages, but, in most
cases, in the composition of the whole, and in the distinct, graphic,
and plastic mode of representation. In respect to their style, we add
only a single remark. Slavic popular poetry in general has none of the
vulgarisms, which, in many cases, deface the popular ballads of the
Teutonic nations. Yet _dignity_ of style cannot be expected in any
popular production. Those whose feelings, from want of acquaintance
with the poetry of nature, are apt to be hurt by certain undignified
expressions interspersed unconsciously sometimes in the most beautiful
descriptions, will not escape unpleasant impressions in reading the
Servian songs. Th