The Canadian-American Review of Hungarian Studies - Vol. 4 ... - EPA
The Canadian-American Review of Hungarian Studies - Vol. 4 ... - EPA The Canadian-American Review of Hungarian Studies - Vol. 4 ... - EPA
They all teased one another; like wild coltsThey romped around in spirited revolts.George Toldi, after having swilled his share,Threw his proud self into a soft armchair,And from the wide verandah watched with pleasureHow his gay troops made merry beyond measure;Then marking in a corner the young lad.His brother Nicholas, all alone and sad,The sordid instincts of his soul awokeAnd to his lumpish louts with spleen he spoke:"Hallo, boys! See that bustard sorrowing!He hides his mournful beak beneath his wing.Roosting is he, or dead? Use your best knackTo bang that plank behind his sulky back!"As when a hare is tossed among some hounds,The wanton soldiers' mischief knew no bounds.The boards behind his head banged loud with spearsWhile still his earlier sorrow perseveres.No mystery was this onset all unblest,The case was obvious and manifest;This drastic joke against himself was spedOften the missiles hardly missed his head.Though far from calm, Toldi endured their clangour;His soul still wrestled with his rising anger;Then mastered it, and rested in disdainThat these rude varlets sought to give him pain.For you must know, these rogues who caused him harmCould be swept off by his avenging arm,Like that of Samson that once killed aloneA thousand infidels with one jaw-bone.For long he kept his temper firm before them;It seemed his best revenge was to ignore them;He tried to hide his knowledge of their aim,And didn't move one ear for all their game.But when a spearpoint grazed his shoulder-blade,His rage flared up in fearful fusillade:Seizing the millstone-block on which he sat,He hurled it at his foemen, crude and fat.
The heavy stone flies on: where will it stop?Upon whose head in thunder will it drop?Run, Nicholas, run! For death your neck will claim!Nothing can wash away a murderer's name!Out from your father's home your path goes blurredLike a wild boar's when driven from the herdBecause with his sharp fangs he's slain his fellowAnd the others drive him off with gash and bellow.The mighty stone flew on, and where it fellIt smote a noble soldier clear to hell;As in a mill, the weight his members crushesAnd oozing juice from out his body gushes.The dusty soil drinks up the blood in haste,A film of death upon his eyes is placed.Thus the disaster that had stilled his breastBrought sudden agony to all the rest.At this the wrath of George surpassed belief.The death of his bold soldier brought such grief:And he was happy that his brother's deedCould make his plans to ruin him succeed.His cunning, crooked purposes, he saw,Could now be covered with the veil of law;And with such guise his slaughter to invest,He gave strict orders for his prompt arrest.CANTO FOUR"Now Nicholas' mother, grieving for her son,In secret sent him food when he had none.IlosvaiAs when the antlered stag, by arrows hurt,Darts to the forest-depths, with thickets girt,To seek the soothing water of a springAnd herbs to heal his wound's keen suffering,But finds, alas, the spring is dried-out groundAnd healing herbs are nowhere to be found;Scratched by all branches, pricked by every thorn,More dead than living is the beast forlorn,
- Page 22 and 23: lowed translations from other, more
- Page 24 and 25: which took place in the pages of th
- Page 27 and 28: from teaching in 1968, Kirkconnell
- Page 29 and 30: Magyar poets and writers to the rea
- Page 31 and 32: tive of his helpful attitude and un
- Page 33: 33. Kirkconnell, A Slice of Canada,
- Page 36 and 37: The groaning of the slaves on Egypt
- Page 38 and 39: ecause most such lines are imbedded
- Page 40 and 41: ;Two spheres contend with one anoth
- Page 42 and 43: matched it to this feeble hurdy-gur
- Page 44 and 45: NOTES1. The only full-length study
- Page 46 and 47: terest in Hungarian literature, has
- Page 48 and 49: limitations of Bowring and others:
- Page 50 and 51: Jones' Five Hungarian WritersJ 4 Su
- Page 53 and 54: REVIEW ARTICLEHungarian Poetry in E
- Page 55 and 56: ooks written in English. A table of
- Page 57 and 58: passive, or into noun phrases in En
- Page 59 and 60: REVIEW ARTICLEHungarian Religious P
- Page 61 and 62: magas és a mély magánhangzójú
- Page 63 and 64: SPECIAL SECTIONToldiAn Epic Poem (1
- Page 65 and 66: CANTO ONE"He lifted, with one hand,
- Page 67 and 68: "Who should be squire of this whole
- Page 69 and 70: What meant this hubbub in a widow's
- Page 71: "Lad, here's your share! Don't say
- Page 75 and 76: The homes of moorhen, plover, gull
- Page 77 and 78: Perhaps I'll shed my blood, some no
- Page 79 and 80: CANTO FIVENicholas went wandering a
- Page 81 and 82: Her tongue was like a coulter in th
- Page 83 and 84: Rosemary pots mourned on its window
- Page 85 and 86: Such were her words. No more would
- Page 87 and 88: As if a nest of hornets rose to sti
- Page 89 and 90: Upon an isle, by a Czech's hand the
- Page 95 and 96: REVIEW ARTICLEQuo Vadis Transylvani
- Page 97 and 98: Hungarians in Rumania in terms of t
- Page 99 and 100: down by serious shortcomings in bot
- Page 101 and 102: alanced presentation of the Vienna
- Page 104 and 105: talent enables Wass to depict the s
- Page 106 and 107: Carpathian Federation, and printed
- Page 108 and 109: Now and then, however, this rule de
- Page 110 and 111: temper such an indictment by recogn
- Page 112 and 113: OUR CONTRIBUTORS (continued from pa
- Page 115: TO THOSE WISHING TO SUBMIT MANUSCRI
<strong>The</strong> heavy stone flies on: where will it stop?Upon whose head in thunder will it drop?Run, Nicholas, run! For death your neck will claim!Nothing can wash away a murderer's name!Out from your father's home your path goes blurredLike a wild boar's when driven from the herdBecause with his sharp fangs he's slain his fellowAnd the others drive him <strong>of</strong>f with gash and bellow.<strong>The</strong> mighty stone flew on, and where it fellIt smote a noble soldier clear to hell;As in a mill, the weight his members crushesAnd oozing juice from out his body gushes.<strong>The</strong> dusty soil drinks up the blood in haste,A film <strong>of</strong> death upon his eyes is placed.Thus the disaster that had stilled his breastBrought sudden agony to all the rest.At this the wrath <strong>of</strong> George surpassed belief.<strong>The</strong> death <strong>of</strong> his bold soldier brought such grief:And he was happy that his brother's deedCould make his plans to ruin him succeed.His cunning, crooked purposes, he saw,Could now be covered with the veil <strong>of</strong> law;And with such guise his slaughter to invest,He gave strict orders for his prompt arrest.CANTO FOUR"Now Nicholas' mother, grieving for her son,In secret sent him food when he had none.IlosvaiAs when the antlered stag, by arrows hurt,Darts to the forest-depths, with thickets girt,To seek the soothing water <strong>of</strong> a springAnd herbs to heal his wound's keen suffering,But finds, alas, the spring is dried-out groundAnd healing herbs are nowhere to be found;Scratched by all branches, pricked by every thorn,More dead than living is the beast forlorn,
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