Note 16 — Chapter IV · : Kralyevitch Marko; or, the Royal Prince Marko

Then he shed many bitter tears, and spoke in this wise: “O thou treacherous world, once my fairy flower! Thou wert lovely—but I sojourned for too short a time with thee: yea for about three hundred years! The hour has come for me to depart!” Then he drew his sabre and hastened to Sharatz; with one stroke he smote off his head. Never should he be mounted by the Turk; never should a Turkish burden be placed upon his proud shoulders; never should he carry the dyugoom16 from the well for the hated Moslem!