Come all of you,
Black and white,
Red and mottled,
Young and old;
Beneath this oak
I am about to milk you.
Beneath this poplar,
I am about to press,
Liauba! Liauba! in order to milk.]
The music of the mountains is peculiar and wild, having most probably
received its inspiration from the grandeur of the natural objects. Most of
the sounds partake of the character of echoes, being high-keyed but false
notes; such as the rocks send back to the valleys, when the voice is
raised above its natural key in order to reach the caverns and savage
recesses of inaccessible precipices. Strains like these readily recall the
glens and the magnificence amid which they were first heard, and hence, by
an irresistible impulse, the mind is led to indulge in the strongest of
all its sympathies, those which are mixed with the unalloyed and
unsophisticated delights of buoyant childhood.
The herdsmen and dairymaids no sooner uttered the first notes of this
magic song, than a deep and breathing stillness pervaded the crowd. As the
peculiar strains of the chorus rose on the ear, murmuring echoes issued
from among the spectators, and ere the wild intonations could be repeated
which accompanied the words "Liauba! Liauba!" a thousand voices were
lifted simultaneously, as it were, to greet the surrounding mountains with
the salutations of their children.
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