ina, thy bright fate
Destroy'd Wihowski's spell;[37]
He with the heart of stone,
And with the mind of hell!

The following melancholy song expresses the general hatred against the
Pole, the oppressor, in a manner not less strong. _Haidamack_ is
another name for the Ruthenian peasant under Polish dominion, and
was formerly, as well as _Burlak_, also applied to the Malo-Russian
Kozaks in general.

SONG OF THE HAIDAMACK.[38]

Gladly would I to the war,
To the war so full of prey,
Pleasure of the Haidamack!
But the steward bids me stay,
Lest the proud Pole's cows should stray!

Gladly to the merry dance
Would I on the gusli play,
Pleasure of the rosy maid!
But the steward bids me stay,
Lest the proud Pole's sheep should stray!

Gladly I would hunting go,
With the bobtailed dog so fleet,
Pleasure of a good brave youth!
But the steward bids me stay,
Lest the proud Pole's steeds should stray!

O farewell, thou rosy maid,
Rattle gently, rusty sabre!
Quick on horseback, Haidamack!
Stray may steeds, sheep, cows and all;
Perish may the haughty Pole!

We finish with a few Ruthenian ballads, having no political reference.
The first is interesting as illustrating a peculiar popular
superstition. The Leshes are a kind of Satyrs; covered like them with
hair, and of a very malicious nature. They steal children and young
women. Their presence has a certain benumbing influence; a person whom
they visit cannot move or stir; although, in the case of our ballad,
we have some suspicion that "the brandy, the wine, and the mead," had
some preparatory influence.

The second exhibits the whole plaintive, yielding mood of a Russian
loving maid; and may be considered as a _characteristic_ specimen.

SIR SAVA AND THE LESHES.[39]

With the Lord at Nemirov
Sir Sava dined so gladly;
Nor thought he that his life
Would end so soon and sadly.

Sir Sava he rode home
To his own court with speed;
And plenty of good oats
He bids to give his steed.

Sir Sava behind his table
To write with care begun;
His young wife she is rocking
In the cradle her infant son.

'Holla! my lad, brisk butler,
Bring now the brandy to me;
My well-beloved lady,
This glass I drink to thee.

'Holla! my lad, brisk butler,
Now bring me the clear wine;
This glass and this, I drink it