Page 622 - Kosovo Metohija Heritage
P. 622

 Kosoo, the site of Judgment Day
Petar II Petrović Njegoš
Our God hath poured His wrath upon the Serbs, For deadly sins withdrawn His favour from us: Our Rulers trampled underfoot all law,
With bloody hatred fought each other down. Tore from fraternal brows the living eyes: authority and Law they cast aside,
instead chose folly as their rule and guide!
and those who served our kings became untrue, Crimson they bathed themselves in kingly blood! Our noblemen—God’s curse be on their souls – Did tear and rend the Kingdom into pieces,
and wasted wantonly our people’s power.
The Serbian magnates—may their name rot out! – They scatter’d broadcast Discord’s evil seed,
and poisoned thus the life–springs of our race. Our Serbian chiefs, most miserable cowards,
The Serbian stock did heartlessly betray.
accursed be Kossovo’s evening Meal;
Far better had it been if from that hour
Our magnates all had disappear’d for aye!
if only Milosh still remain’d unto us,
With his two valiant Pobratims,
Then Serb would be with Serb to–day.
Thou Brankovitch, of stock despicable,
Should one serve so his Fatherland,
Thus much is Honesty esteem’d?
Who, Milosh, would not envy thee?
a victim thou to thine own truth and worth! all–puissant spirit in the things of War;
a thunder mighty which did shatter thrones!
The deeds thy knightly soul hath wrought. Outshine all lustre of the Past, –
The fame of Sparta and of mighty Rome!
Their valiant and heroic feats
are all surpass’d by thy proud arm.
Where is Leonidas. where Scaevola,
When Obilitch doth enter the arena?
That arm of thine with but one only stroke Brought down a throne and made all Hell to quake! Yet Milosh fell, most marvellous of knights,
a victim fell unto the world’s great Scourge.
in proud repose the puissant Leader lies:
There from his veins did spurt his noble blood, Where he so proudly trod a while before,
His breast possess’d by one sole dread intent,
as he did press his way through asia’s hordes,
He swallow’d them with his great eyes of fire Where he so proudly trod a while before.
Seeking his hallow’d tomb and life immortal, Scorning alike the failures of small men,
and all that false and senseless company.
Our God hath pour’d His wrath upon the Serbs!

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