ESTHONIAN POETRY. 3 1 



The flowers will fade : 



Shall I complain to the flowers of parfley ? 



They will decay : 



Shall I complain to the meadow-grafs ? 

 The meadow-grafs will wither. 

 And yet it hears my lamentation, 

 The fong of the wretched orphan. 

 Rife up, my loving mother ! 

 Rife up, my loving father ! 

 Rife up, and fhut my box ; 



Make fafl the trunk that holds my bridal prefents # ! 

 u I cannot rife up, my daughter ! 

 ■ 4C I cannot rife up, I am not awake ! 

 " The green grafs is grown over my head; 

 * c The blades of grafs grow thick on my grave, 

 €C The blue rnift of the forefl is before my eyes, 

 " And on my feet the weeds and the bufhes arc 

 " grown," 



An elegy, which, for truth of expreffion, may be 

 ranked with thofe of Ovid. Who does not here parti- 

 cipate in the bitter reflections of an orphan ! She is 

 going to enter on a new condition ; and me has-$no one 

 on whom fhe can lean. And yet Hie muft make pre* 

 fents ?— She calls to her parents in the grave, in dole- 

 ful mockery, " Dear father, help me to fhut the great 

 <£ chefl which contains my dowry. It is fo full .that I 

 " cannot of myfelf ihut down the cover. Give me, 



* Irony — it is too full of prefects, She cannot ihut the lid alone, 

 it is fo heaped with precious things. 



* mo 



