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

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And all the while his anger fiercer grewBecause his bloody plan had fallen through.All night long, Nicholas wandered, staunch yet pale,Braving the rain, the lightning and the gale.And when the dawn the night afar had chasedHe found himself amid a desert waste.Who was his comrade as the day passed by?The sun that followed him across the sky,Caught up, passed on, and sank at last from sight,Leaving him friendless in the sodden night.Three days passed by: and on the fourth at noonHe saw in a mirage great mountains swoon;He was amazed the like he ne'er had seenNot the mirage but mountain peaks serene.He hastened on and on, through weary hours;When evening came, he glimpsed tall Buda's towers.And just before the sunset hour he cameAnd saw the well-known field of Rakos' fame.The field of Rakos close to Pest is set;It was at Pest that he with evening met,Beside a cemetery, in whose parkThe mound of a new grave was looming dark.Whose grave it was, he did not greatly care,But — God Almighty! — who was standing there?Surely his mother, in a mourning dress,Bowed by a pair of crosses in distress!Not she, but someone like her, it appears.A stone would have been melted by her tears.Why should not Nicholas make her grief his own,Having a heart much softer than a stone?His bosom filled with pity, up he steppedAnd asked her who it was for whom she wept.Then the sad widow who this watch was keepingAnswered his question with a storm of weeping."Oh, my dear lad! Your word my sorrow stuns.Today I buried here two gallant sons:
Upon an isle, by a Czech's hand they fell.And may God never save his soul from Hell!"She spoke no more. This much was agonized,For with her grief her tongue was paralyzed.Down on the black mound of the grave she kneltAnd bowed there in the anguish that she felt.This lasted long, and Nicholas held his peaceUntil her lamentation's voice might cease.And when at last her tears had had their vent,After a time her sorrow seemed nigh spent.Then spoke he: "Madam, now your tears have end,What is your case, I cannot comprehend.Who slew, and why, I have not understood:And is there no one to claim blood for blood?"On hearing this, the lady stood erectAnd all her cruel affliction sharply checked.The outline of her face was lean and wanAnd under glooming brows her great eyes shone:"Blood calls for blood, you say. But I possessNo one to succor me in my distress.My heart is like an autumn stubble-fieldFrom which the scythe has swept its golden yield."Then Toldi said: "Don't cry. For from their biersYour sons will not be raised up by your tears.But may the Lord bring doom upon my neckIf I do not take vengeance on that Czech.I therefore beg you, and it will avail,Tell me the whole of an unvarnished tale.I have a widowed mother of my ownAnd can have pity on a widow's moan."The lady by this time had taken heartAnd now set forth her tale in every part:Upon a Danube isle a Czech knight foughtIn single combat, and great havoc wrought.Of boasts and bluster was his conversation,And ever he abused the Magyar nation.Many had fought, and died, and left to mind themWidows and orphans in lament behind them.
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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
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from teaching in 1968, Kirkconnell
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Magyar poets and writers to the rea
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tive of his helpful attitude and un
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33. Kirkconnell, A Slice of Canada,
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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 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: As if a nest of hornets rose to sti
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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