ne of the most touching ever written:--

"Dyal o pani repedishis,
M'ro pirano hegedishis;

"Dyal o pani tale vatra,
M'ro pirano klanetaha.

"Dyal o pani pe kishai
M'ro pirano tsino rai."

"The stream runs on with rushing din
As I hear my true love's violin;

"And the river rolls o'er rock and stone
As he plays the flute so sweet alone.

"Runs o'er the sand as it began,
Then my true love lives a gentleman."

Yes, music whirling the soul away as on a rushing river, the violin notes
falling like ripples, the flute tones all aflow among the rocks; and when
it sweeps _adagio_ on the sandy bed, then the gypsy player is at heart
equal to a lord, then he feels a gentleman. The only true republic is
art. There all earthly distinctions pass away; there he is best who
lives and feels best, and makes others feel, not that he is cleverer than
they, but that he can awaken sympathy and joy.

The intense reality of musical art as a comforter to these gypsies of
Eastern Europe is wonderful. Among certain inedited songs of the
Transylvanian gypsies, in the Kolosvarer dialect, I find the following:--

"Na janav ko dad m'ro as,
Niko mallen mange as,
Miro gule dai merdyas
Pirani me pregelyas.
Uva tu o hegedive
Tu sal mindik pash mange."

"I've known no father since my birth,
I have no friend alive on earth;
My mother's dead this many day,
The girl I loved has gone her way;
Thou violin with music free
Alone art ever true to me."

It is very wonderful that the charm of the Russian gypsy girls' singing
was destroyed by the atmosphere or applause of a Paris concert-room,
while the Hungarian Romanys conquered it as it were by sheer force, and
by conquering gave their music the charm of intensity. I do not deny
that in this music, be it of voice or instruments, there is much which is
perhaps imagined, which depends on association, which is plain to John
but not to Jack; but you have only to advance or retreat a few steps to
find the same in the highest art. This, at least, we know: that no
performer at any concert in London can awake the feeling of intense
enjoyment which these wild minstrels excite in themselves and in others
by sympathy. Now it is a question in many forms as to whether art for
enjoyment is to die, and art for the sake of art alone survive. Is
joyous and healthy nature to vanish step by step from the heart