Cease thy grief, oh my heart, full of grief,
  Soon will a time come that giveth thee relief.

  Never misfortune has struck mo so hard,
  But I ere long again better have fared.

  God of all else in the world has enough;
  Why not then widows and orphans enough?[64]

GOOD ADVICE FOR LADS.

  Let him who would married be,
  Look about him and take care,
  That he does not take a wife,
      Take a wife;
  He’ll repent it till his life.

  If thou shouldst make up thy mind,
  And shouldst take too young a wife,
  Youthful wife has boiling blood,
      Boiling blood;
  No one thinks of her much good.

  If thou shouldst make up thy mind,
  And shouldst take too old a wife,
  In the house she’ll creep about,
      Creep about;
  And will frighten people out.

  If thou shouldst make up thy mind,
  And shouldst take a handsome wife,
  Nought but trouble she will give,
      Trouble give;
  Others’ visits she’ll receive.

  If thou shouldst make up thy mind,
  And shouldst take too short a wife,
  Lowly thou must stoop to her,
      Stoop to her,
  Wouldst thou whisper in her ear.

  If thou shouldst make up thy mind,
  And shouldst take too tall a wife,
  Ladders thou to her must raise,
      Ladders raise,
  If thou wouldst thy wife embrace.

  If thou shouldst make up thy mind,
  And shouldst take a snarling wife,
  Thou wilt want no dog in the house,
      Dog in the house;
  Thy wife will be the dog in the house.

  As for poor ones, let them be,
  Nothing they will bring to thee,
  Every thing will wanting be,
      Wanting be;
  Not a soul will come to thee.

  If thou shouldst make up thy mind,
  And shouldst take a wealthy wife,
  Then with patience thou must bear,
      Thou must bear,
  If the breeches she should wear.

  Pretty, modest, smart, and neat,
  Good and pious she must be;
  If thou weddest such a wife,
      Such a wife,
  Thou’lt not repent it all thy life.

Merry ballads like these are usually sung at wedding feasts, where several of the old Slavic ceremonies are still preserved; among other things the bringing home of the bride in solemn procession.  Many old verses, mostly fragments of half forgotten ballads, familiar to their ancestors, are in like manner occasionally recited.  But the poetical atmosphere, which still weaves around the Russian or Servian maiden a mystical veil, through which she gazes, as in a dream full of golden illusions and images, into that condition of new existence feared and desired by her at once—­that atmosphere is destroyed by the lights of the surrounding civilization, which show the sober reality of things in full glare.  The flowers are withered that were wound around the chains; but the chains themselves