The story of
ARTASHES AND SATENIK
(From the History of Armenia) by MOSES OF KHORENE
AT this time the Alans
united with all the people of the mountain country, and having taken possession
of the half of Georgia, spread themselves in great multitudes over our land.
And Artashes collected a mighty host together, and there was war between the
two great nations. The Alans retreated somewhat, and crossing over the river
Kur they encamped on its northern bank. And when Artashes arrived, he encamped
on the southern hank, so that the river was between them. But because the son
of the King of the Alans was taken captive by the Armenian hosts and brought to
Artashes, the King of the Alans sought peace, promising to give to Artashes
whatsoever he should ask. And he swore an eternal peace unto him, so that the
sons of the Alans might not be carried away captive into the land of the
Armenians. And when Artashes would not consent to give back the youth, his
sister came to the river's bank and stood upon a great rock. And by means of
the interpreters she spoke to the camp of Artashes, saying:--"O brave
Artashes, who hast vanquished the great nation of the Alans, unto thee I speak.
Come, hearken unto the bright-eyed daughter of the Alan King, and give back the
youth. For it is not the way of heroes to destroy life at the root, nor for the
sake of humbling and enslaving a hostage to establish everlasting enmity
between two great nations." And on hearing such wise sayings, Artashes
went to the bank of the river. And seeing that the maiden was beautiful, and
having heard these words of wisdom from her, he desired her. And calling Smpad
his chamberlain he told him the wishes of his heart, and commanded that he
should obtain the maiden for him, swearing unto the great Alan nation oaths of
peace, and promising to send the youth back in safety. And this appeared wise
in the eyes of Smpad, and he sent messengers unto the King of the Alans asking
him to give the lady Satenik his daughter as wife unto Artashes. And the King
of the Mans answered, "From whence shall brave Artashes give thousands
upon thousands and tens of thousands upon tens of thousands unto the Alans in
return for the maiden?"
Concerning this the poets of that land sing
in their songs:--
"Brave King Artashes
Mounted his fine black charger,
And took the red leathern cord
With the golden ring.
Like a swift-winged eagle
He passed over the river,
And cast the golden ring
Round the waist of the Alan Princess;
Causing much pain
To the tender maiden
As he bore her swiftly
Back to his camp."
Mounted his fine black charger,
And took the red leathern cord
With the golden ring.
Like a swift-winged eagle
He passed over the river,
And cast the golden ring
Round the waist of the Alan Princess;
Causing much pain
To the tender maiden
As he bore her swiftly
Back to his camp."
Which being interpreted
meaneth that he was commanded to give much gold, leather, and crimson dye in
exchange for the maiden. So also they sing of the wedding:--
"It rained showers of gold when Artashes
became a bridegroom.
It rained pearls when Satenik became a bride."
It rained pearls when Satenik became a bride."
For it was the custom of
our kings to scatter coins amongst the people when they arrived at the doors of
the temple for their wedding, as also for the queens to scatter pearls in their
bridechamber.
------------------
THE SORROWS OF ARMENIA
IN many a distant,
unknown land,
My sons belovèd exiled roam,
Servile they kiss the stranger's hand;
How shall I find and bring them home?
My sons belovèd exiled roam,
Servile they kiss the stranger's hand;
How shall I find and bring them home?
The ages
pass, no tidings come;
My brave ones fall, are lost and gone.
My blood is chilled, my voice is dumb,
And friend or comfort I have none.
My brave ones fall, are lost and gone.
My blood is chilled, my voice is dumb,
And friend or comfort I have none.
With
endless griefs my heart is worn,
Eternal sorrow is my doom;
Far from my sons, despis’d, forlorn,
I must descend the darksome tomb.
Eternal sorrow is my doom;
Far from my sons, despis’d, forlorn,
I must descend the darksome tomb.
Thou
shepherd wandering o’er the hill,
Come weep with me my children lost;
Let mournful strains the valleys fill
For those we loved and valued most.
Come weep with me my children lost;
Let mournful strains the valleys fill
For those we loved and valued most.
Fly,
crane, Armenia's bird, depart;
Tell them I die of grief; and tell
How hope is dead within my heart--
Bear to my sons my last farewell!
Tell them I die of grief; and tell
How hope is dead within my heart--
Bear to my sons my last farewell!
-------------------------
From ARMENIAN POETRY
AND LEGENDS
ISBN: 978-1-907256-18-9
A percentage of the
profits will be donated to the Centre for Armenian Information and Advice (CAIA)
in London.
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