Weep not, weep not, O sweet maid!  Choose, O choose another love! Is he better, thou’ll forget me; Is he worse, thou’lt think of me, Think of me, sweet soul, and weep!

Love, among the Slavi, more than among any other Christian race, seems to be a dream of youth.  Among unmarried persons of both sexes, free and easy intercourse is kept up.  But nothing can favour less a free and lasting affection, than the national mode of contracting marriages.  Among those Slavic nations, who have lived long in connection with the Teutonic races, the national manners have of course partly changed in this respect, as in others; especially among the higher classes.  But among the Servians, the old Asiatic custom, according to which a marriage is agreed on by the parents of the parties, often without these knowing each other, is kept up in its fullest extent; and, even among all Slavic nations, strong traces of this custom are still left.  Affianced Slavic girls often do not see their intended husbands before the wedding-day.  Thus a girl, even in attaching herself to a youth, must early familiarize herself with the thought, that the time may come when she will have to take back her heart at her parent’s bidding.  Illegitimate love is rare; and is considered as the highest crime.  Of the Russian popular songs, no small portion describe lovers taking leave of each other, because the youth or the maid must marry another; in another considerable portion, young married women are represented lamenting their miserable fate.  The following popular ballad will afford the reader a characteristic specimen of the whole tenderness of such a Russian parting scene.

THE FAREWELL.

  Brightly shining sank the waning moon,
  And the sun all beautiful arose;

  Not a falcon floated through the air,
  Strayed a youth along the river’s brim. 
  Slowly strayed he on and dreamingly,
  Sighing looked unto the garden green,
  Heart all filled with sorrow mused he so: 
  “All the little birds are now awake,
  All, embracing with their little wings,
  Greeting, all have sung their morning songs. 
  But, alas! that sweetest doveling mine,
  She who was my youth’s first dawning love,
  In her chamber slumbers fast and deep. 
  Ah! not even her friend is in her dreams,
  Ah! no thought of me bedims her soul,
  While my heart is torn with wildest grief,
  That she comes to meet me here no more.”

  Stepped the maiden from her chamber then;
  Wet, O! wet with tears her lovely face,
  All with sadness dimmed her eyes so clear,
  Feebly drooping hung her snowy arms. 
  ’T was no arrow that had pierced her heart,
  ’T was no adder that had stung her so;
  Weeping, thus the lovely maid began: 
  “Fare thee well, beloved, fare thee well,
  Dearest soul, thy father’s dearest son! 
  I have been betrothed since yesterday;
  Come, to-morrow, troops of wedding-guests;
  To the altar, I, perforce, must go! 
  I shall be another’s then; and yet
  Thine, thine only, thine alone till death.”