Canto XIV

"Well, how shall I begin? And, first of all
Why people me "John Kukoricza" call?
A foundling I, — was in a cornfield found
And Kukoricza call myself was bound.

A wealthy farmer's kind, good-hearted wife
— 'T was often told me in my later life —
On passing through the field heard baby-cries,
And in a nearby furrow she espies

Poor me, wrapped in a rag and crying loud,
She took me up and to herself she vowed:
"Poor waif, I have no children of my own,
As my adopted son thou shalt be known."

The good old woman had a husband though,
Who was not pleased and his dislike would show,
Whene'er he saw me in her care, he'd swear
Blasphemous cuss words which the household scare.

She tried it hard his wrath to pacify:
"Stop being angry, Dad, tell me: could I
Leave him abandoned in that field to die?
Would mercy have on me our Lord on High?

And then, dear Dad, he will be of good use
Around the farm. Cows, oxen, sheep and yews
Need overseers, when grown up he'll repay
With good work what we do for him to day."

Somehow she wins him o'er and by degrees
He yields, but altough I tried hard to please,
He never liked me. If in ought I failed
With whip and cane I promptly was assailed.

Midst working hard and thrashings had, I grew
Of joys and pleasures I but little knew.
The only bliss which for my life's ills paid:
Was in our village lived a sweet, blonde maid.

The maiden's mother soon stepped in her grave,'
Her father took a second wife, and gave
A stepmother to her, and then he died.
To that stepmother thus her life was tied.

That maid has been my joy amidst my woes,
Upon my thorny life the only rose;
I loved her, by her sight I was enthralled,
The orphans of the village we were called.

E'en as a boy, could I to her be nigh,
I would not have preferred a piece of pie.
The Sundays were my only days of joys,
I could then play with her amidst the boys.

When I had grown a good sized lad to be
And felt to have a heart which warmeth me,
And I could kiss her: Well; for me, the world
Could crash and into nothingness be hurled.

Her wicked stepmother oft punished her,

— May God ne'er pardon her, — I tell you, Sir,
I often had to come to her defence,

My threats alone checked her brute violence.

From bad to worse too went my own affairs,
My dear old benefactress died. Death spares
Not e'en the best; she found me and to me
A mother good and true .had tried to be.

Hard is my heart, in all my life I ne'er
Shed many tears, but at her death, despair
Seized me, my feelings I could not restrain,
The tears I wept were like a shower of rain.

My sweet Helen, my blonde-haired darling too
With sorrow genuine shed not a few
Most heartfelt tears. The dear departed soul
Had been most kind to her, did oft console

Her in her misery, would often say:
"Just wait! I'll make you each other's one day,
You shall be man and wife and I declare
Our village ne'er will see a finer pair."

And sorely we the happy days await.
She would have brought about our married state,
(The dear old soul e'er kept her given word,)
Ah me! she died, and now is sepulchred.

And so it came about that when she died,
We two were forced our hopes to cast aside.
Still while our hopeless cause we would deplore:
We loved each other more than e'er before.

But God Almighty willed it otherwise
Our only bliss — to meet — He e'en denies!
Some of my flock I once let go astray,
My master thereupon drove me away.

To my beloved Helen with tearful eye

And throbbing heart I said my last good-bye.
I wandered through the world without an aim,
Until at last a soldier I became.
I never told Helen, that she remain
My own sweetheart until we meet again.

I never told her I shall faithful be.

No pledge was needful for our loyalty.

Give up all thought of me thou fair princess.
Because if sweet Helen I can't possess:
This heart of mine on no girl will be set
Should even death to call for me forget."