The Canadian-American Review of Hungarian Studies - Vol. 4 ... - EPA

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He then took out his clasp-knife, star-bedight,And offered it in his young master's sight;The latter took the knife and sliced the breadOn it and meat right hungrily he fed.With joy the faithful Ben beheld him eat,More pleased than if himself he downed the meat;As if he ate himself, his mouth would move,And his grey lashes showed a tear of love.When the lad brought his appetite in check,The old man fiercely wrung the wine-flask's neck;The flask shrieked, and poured out its bubbling bloodIn the old servant's hands in rosy flood.First with the wine his master's health he drank;A few drops down his throat in fervour sank;Then, seeking Nicholas with the flask to ply,He wiped his mouth upon his shirt-sleeves dry.Wine freed the old man's spirit like a sluice;His heart swung open and his tongue got loose!With Nicholas' grandsire he began his tale(A whip-boy had he been, of small avail);Of Nicholas' sire and dame his yarns he'd forge,Of Nicholas, too, and of his brother George;Perhaps to the world's end his words had been,If Nicholas had not sadly broken in:"It hurts to hear you, while your heroes stalk!Have done, ! beg you, with this painful talk!Once, sitting at the hearthside, glad and gay,I could have listened until Judgement Day!Oft have you praised my father's noble forceUntil the midnight ended our discourse.Thereafter sleep stayed absent in the skies:Often till dawn I couldn't close my eyes!"What was, is past! That which was good is gone.A new pen writes. My lot has changed anon.I killed a man, an outlaw I became.Who ever knows when I can clear my name?Yet I believe in God, the orphan's stay.
Perhaps I'll shed my blood, some noble day,And wipe away the shame, obscene and dread,That my dear brother brought upon my head."I was not born — these thoughts my spirit flogTo hide among the rushes like a frog!Nor was I made a cowherd, or a serf,Or doomed to draw in haycocks from the turf.1 shall stay here until the night sets inAnd shadows on the fields their watch begin.Then, when across the world I make my track.Even the wind will bring no message back!"Ben, as he heard these words, became depressedThat his young master sought to leave the nest.He stood in silence, then with sudden wailsWrote crosses on his sandal with his nails.Then he began to speak and begged the ladNot to grow angry at the thing he bade,But truly this was folly he proposed.Why go from home, when home all good enclosed?"Look here, dear master: In four days at bestYour brother George will leave for Budapest.Then what has happened will be quite forgot.You'll be our little King, as like as not.Your honest servants would you leave alone.Who feel for you as if you were their own.Bimbo and Lombar would you leave behind,Such oxen as one nowhere else could find?"Your favorite pastimes would you quite forgo?Who in the mill two sacks as one can stow?Who lift a millstone, and all men confound?Don't go, my dear! Stay on familiar ground!Do not afflict with sorrow, through and through,All the sad village folk of Nagyfalu!The ancient house of Toldi guard and save!Don't push your poor old mother to the grave!"
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Canadian-American Review of Hungari
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the best possible settlers who woul
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than a decade later they were follo
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Sociologists have yet to explain sa
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fifteen minutes, and spent the rest
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from the "Canadian poetry" of Icela
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garian community of Western Canada,
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lowed translations from other, more
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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 and 72: "Lad, here's your share! Don't say
Page 73 and 74: The heavy stone flies on: where wil
Page 75: The homes of moorhen, plover, gull
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
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