Into the blue Aegean through narrowest crevices pouring.
O waves, O Serbian river! So centuries forfeit their traces,
Even as billows are plunged far down in eternity's channels.
Yet do thy pearly droplets caress the rock-ridden places
Where are upreared the remains of thy nation's glorious annals.
Yet, as the heavenly Phoenix, shall gladsome liberty glimmer;
Blithely shall I abide where mournful is now my abiding.
Yea, and upon the girth of ifs wings, our eagle, a-shimmer,
Over thy boulders be gliding.
2. THE LAST GUEST.
Midnight is long since past. Not a soul still left in the tavern,
Save for the agèd host, who, close to the fireside cowering,
Fingers a bulky book. Without there is deadly stillness,
And delicate drizzle of rain, and heavy darkness lowering.
