Identifier : hungaryitspeople00felb ( find matches )
Title : Hungary and its people: Magyarorzág és népei
Year : 1893 ( 1890s )
Authors : Felbermann, Louis
Subjects :
Publisher : London, Griffith Farran
Contributing Library : Robarts - University of Toronto
Digitizing Sponsor : University of Toronto

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Text from page 7 describing illustration:
"In fine weather these shepherds and cowboys wander about from place to place, sleeping in the open air, their bed being the bunda , a long sheepskin coat. Spread all over the Puszta you will find little straw-built huts where they and their flocks and herds take refuge in rainy and stormy weather, and where they all congregate on special fete days. These huts are called 'karám ."

Text Appearing Before Image:
hy race. Beyond this spot the great world spreads,From whose wild tumult you must fly; Fate may be cruel or be kind,— Here must you live, here must you die. This is the soil whereon so oft Árpáds red blood has rained like tears; This is the soil whose holy nameHas lasted for a thousand years. The hero Árpáds noble troops Struggled for Freedoms lofty name, Here Hunyadys arms were blestWhen Slavery broke her iron chain. For Freedoms cause the countrys flagWaved crimson with the warriors blood ; Too proud to bear the name of slaves,They struggling sank into the flood. Yet thro the mist of grief and war,And thro a red and endless strife, A dauntless people held the land,A nation owes to them its life. And now the peoples homes, great world.Cry out to you with sobbing breath, The sufferers of a thousand years Ask now from you their life or death. Shall all these sufferers wail in vain ? Shall broken hearts cry out in grief?Is holy Freedom but a name Which cannot give the land relief?
Text Appearing After Image:
The Puszta, 13 It cannot be that mind and strength, And holy wishes and desires,Should waste beneath a curses ban Which wastes them with devouring fires. Ah ! better days have yet to come.If ardent prayers can bring that day, Sent up from many thousand heartsAnd lips which ever ceaseless pray. If death must come, twill glorious be; Should Fate decree that thou must fall,The blood thy nation hath poured out Shall flow across thee like a pall. Around the fallen warriors graves Stand millions, in whose eyes the tears Of sympathy so softly flow, And still shall shine thro passing years. Be true, O Magyar, to the land Which gave thee birth, the dearest place, The cradle of thy earliest years. The grave when thou hast run thy race. Beyond this spot the great world spreads,From whose wild tumult you must fly; Fate may be cruel or be kind,— Here must you live, here must you die. (Adapted from Vörösmarty^ with the kind co-operation of Mrs. VonSchweitzer.) Tell me, beloved, why that strange

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