d in bringing away the bride; but
the cheat is discovered on the road; a contest arises, and the whole
affair ends in a horrible slaughter.

Vuk Stephanovitch has heard this tale repeatedly, and with several
variations; but the principal features, for instance a rich and
elaborate description of the bridal gifts, were always recited exactly
in the same words. It was chanted in the most perfect manner by an old
singer, named Milya, whom prince Milosh often had to sing it before
him; and from whose lips Vuk at last took it down.

Another section of more modern ballads narrates events from the latest
war between the Servians and Turks, between 1801 and 1815. Who of our
readers has not heard of Kara George? His companions, Yanko Katitch,
Stoyan Tchupitch, Milosh of Potzerye, are in Servia as well known and
admired as Kara George himself. They and their comrades are the heroes
of these ballads. The gallant Tchupitch rewarded the blind poet
Philip, who chanted to him a long and beautiful poem of his own
composition, with a white horse. The subject of his narrative was the
battle of Salash; where Tchupitch himself had been the Servian
commander.[59]

The same ballad singer Philip is the author of most of the modern
heroic poems. Of others the authors are not known. Little stress is
laid on the art of poetry; exercised with such extraordinary power.
These productions of our day are by no means inferior to the ancient.
There is indeed no essential difference, either in their diction or in
their conception; and it is easy to be perceived, that old and young
have been nursed from their infancy on tales of "the days of yore."
Some passages of Philip's ballads are really Homeric.[51] Fortunately,
the period is past when our admiration for hyperborean poetry needed
to be justified by its similarity with the classics. We have learned
that real poetry is not spell-bound to names, nor to any nation or
age; and the _beautiful_ has obtained in our time an independent
existence, no longer subject to certain forms and conditions, but
resting on itself and its divine gifts.

The difficulties Vuk Stephanovitch met with in collecting these
wonderful ballads, were not small. He was often hardly able to prevail
on the young men and girls to recite, still less to sing them before
him; partly from a natural shyness to exhibit themselves before a
stranger; partly because his search after effusions which had so
little value in their eyes, and h