|
I. T WAS after dread Pultowas day, | |
When fortune left the royal Swede | |
Around a slaughtered army lay, | |
No more to combat and to bleed. | |
The power and glory of the war, | 5 |
Faithless as their vain votaries, men, | |
Had passed to the triumphant Czar, | |
And Moscows walls were safe again, | |
Until a day more dark and drear, | |
And a more memorable year, | 10 |
Should give to slaughter and to shame | |
A mightier host and haughtier name; | |
A greater wreck, a deeper fall, | |
A shock to one,a thunderbolt to all. | |
|
II. Such was the hazard of the die; | 15 |
The wounded Charles was taught to fly | |
By day and night, through field and flood, | |
Stained with his own and subjects blood; | |
For thousands fell that flight to aid: | |
And not a voice was heard to upbraid | 20 |
Ambition in his humbled hour, | |
When truth had naught to dread from power. | |
His horse was slain, and Gieta gave | |
His own,and died the Russians slave. | |
This too sinks after many a league | 25 |
Of well-sustained, but vain fatigue; | |
And in the depth of forests, darkling | |
The watch-fires in the distance sparkling, | |
The beacons of surrounding foes, | |
A king must lay his limbs at length. | 30 |
Are these the laurels and repose | |
For which the nations strain their strength? | |
They laid him by a savage tree, | |
In out-worn natures agony; | |
His wounds were stiff, his limbs were stark, | 35 |
The heavy hour was chill and dark; | |
The fever in his blood forbade | |
A transient slumbers fitful aid: | |
And thus it was; but yet through all | |
King-like the monarch bore his fall, | 40 |
And made, in this extreme of ill, | |
His pangs the vassals of his will; | |
All silent and subdued were they, | |
As once the nations round him lay. | |
|
III. A band of chiefs!alas! how few, | 45 |
Since but the fleeting of a day | |
Had thinned it; but this wreck was true | |
And chivalrous; upon the clay | |
Each sate him down, all sad and mute, | |
Beside his monarch and his steed, | 50 |
For danger levels man and brute, | |
And all are fellows in their need. | |
Among the rest, Mazeppa made | |
His pillow in an old oaks shade, | |
Himself as rough, and scarce less old, | 55 |
The Ukraines hetman, calm and bold; | |
But first, outspent with this long course, | |
The Cossack prince rubbed down his horse, | |
And made for him a leafy bed, | |
And smoothed his fetlocks and his mane, | 60 |
And slacked his girth, and stripped his rein, | |
And joyed to see how well he fed; | |
For until now he had the dread | |
His wearied courser might refuse | |
To browse beneath the midnight dews: | 65 |
But he was hardy as his lord, | |
And little cared for bed and board; | |
But spirited and docile too, | |
Whateer was to be done, would do; | |
Shaggy and swift, and strong of limb, | 70 |
All Tartar-like he carried him; | |
Obeyed his voice, and came to call, | |
And knew him in the midst of all: | |
Though thousands were around, and night | |
Without a star pursued her flight, | 75 |
That steed from sunset until dawn | |
His chief would follow like a fawn. | |
|
IV. This done, Mazeppa spread his cloak, | |
And laid his lance beneath his oak, | |
Felt if his arms in order good | 80 |
The long days march had well withstood, | |
If still the powder filled the pan, | |
And flints unloosened kept their lock, | |
His sabres hilt and scabbard felt, | |
And whether they had chafed his belt, | 85 |
And next the venerable man, | |
From out his haversack and can, | |
Prepared and spread his slender stock; | |
And to the monarch and his men | |
The whole or portion offered then, | 90 |
With far less of inquietude | |
Than courtiers at a banquet would | |
And Charles of this his slender share | |
With smiles partook a moment there, | |
To force of cheer a greater show. | 95 |
And seem above both wounds and woe; | |
And then he said, Of all our band, | |
Though firm of heart and strong of hand, | |
In skirmish, march, or forage, none | |
Can less have said, or more have done, | 100 |
Than thee, Mazeppa! On the earth | |
So fit a pair had never birth, | |
Since Alexanders days till now, | |
As thy Bucephalus and thou: | |
All Scythias fame to thine should yield | 105 |
For pricking on oer flood and field. | |
Mazeppa answered, Ill betide | |
The school wherein I learned to ride! | |
Quoth Charles, Old hetman, wherefore so, | |
Since thou hast learned the art so well? | 110 |
Mazeppa said, T were long to tell; | |
And we have many a league to go | |
With every now and then a blow, | |
And ten to one at least the foe, | |
Before our steeds may graze at ease | 115 |
Beyond the swift Borysthenes: | |
And, sire, your limbs have need of rest, | |
And I will be the sentinel | |
Of this your troop. But I request, | |
Said Swedens monarch, thou wilt tell | 120 |
This tale of thine, and I may reap | |
Perchance from this the boon of sleep; | |
For at this moment from my eyes | |
The hope of present slumber flies. | |
|
Well, sire, with such a hope, I ll track | 125 |
My seventy years of memory back: | |
I think t was in my twentieth spring, | |
Ay, t was,when Casimir was king, | |
John Casimir,I was his page | |
Six summers in my earlier age; | 130 |
A learned monarch, faith! was he, | |
And most unlike your majesty: | |
He made no wars, and did not gain | |
New realms to lose them back again; | |
And (save debates in Warsaws diet) | 135 |
He reigned in most unseemly quiet; | |
Not that he had no cares to vex, | |
He loved the muses and the sex; | |
And sometimes these so froward are, | |
They made him wish himself at war; | 140 |
But soon his wrath being oer, he took | |
Another mistress, or new book: | |
And then he gave prodigious fêtes, | |
All Warsaw gathered round his gates | |
To gaze upon his splendid court, | 145 |
And dames, and chiefs, of princely port: | |
He was the Polish Solomon, | |
So sung his poets, all but one, | |
Who, being unpensioned, made a satire, | |
And boasted that he could not flatter. | 150 |
It was a court of jousts and mimes, | |
Where every courtier tried at rhymes; | |
Even I for once produced some verses, | |
And signed my odes, Despairing Thirsis. | |
There was a certain Palatine, | 155 |
A count of far and high descent, | |
Rich as a salt or silver mine; | |
And he was proud, ye may divine, | |
As if from heaven he had been sent: | |
He had such wealth in blood and ore, | 160 |
As few could match beneath the throne; | |
And he would gaze upon his store, | |
And oer his pedigree would pore, | |
Until by some confusion led, | |
Which almost looked like want of head, | 165 |
He thought their merits were his own. | |
His wife was not of his opinion, | |
His junior she by thirty years, | |
Grew daily tired of his dominion; | |
And, after wishes, hopes, and fears, | 170 |
To virtue a few farewell tears, | |
A restless dream or two, some glances | |
At Warsaws youth, some songs, and dances, | |
Awaited but the usual chances, | |
Those happy accidents which render | 175 |
The coldest dames so very tender, | |
To deck her count with titles given, | |
T is said, as passports into heaven; | |
But, strange to say, they rarely boast | |
Of these who have deserved them most. | 180 |
|
V. I was a goodly stripling then; | |
At seventy years I so may say, | |
That there were few, or boys or men, | |
Who, in my dawning time of day, | |
Of vassal or of knights degree, | 185 |
Could vie in vanities with me; | |
For I had strength, youth, gayety, | |
A port not like to this ye see, | |
But smooth, as all is rugged now; | |
For time and care and war have ploughed | 190 |
My very soul from out my brow; | |
And thus I should be disavowed | |
By all my kind and kin, could they | |
Compare my day and yesterday; | |
This change was wrought, too, long ere age | 195 |
Had taen my features for his page: | |
With years, we know, have not declined | |
My strength, my courage, or my mind, | |
Or at this hour I should not be | |
Telling old tales beneath a tree | 200 |
With starless skies my canopy. | |
But let me on: Theresas form, | |
Methinks it glides before me now, | |
Between me and yon chestnuts bough, | |
The memory is so quick and warm; | 205 |
And yet I find no words to tell | |
The shape of her I loved so well: | |
She had the Asiatic eye, | |
Such as our Turkish neighborhood | |
Hath mingled with our Polish blood, | 210 |
Dark as above us is the sky; | |
But through it stole a tender light, | |
Like the first moonrise at midnight; | |
Large, dark, and swimming in the stream, | |
Which seemed to melt to its own beam; | 215 |
All love, half languor, and half fire, | |
Like saints that at the stake expire, | |
And lift their raptured looks on high, | |
As though it were a joy to die. | |
A brow like a midsummer lake, | 220 |
Transparent with the sun therein, | |
When waves no murmur dare to make, | |
And heaven beholds her face within. | |
A cheek and lip,but why proceed? | |
I loved her then,I love her still; | 225 |
And such as I am, love indeed | |
In fierce extremes,in good and ill. | |
But still we love even in our rage, | |
And haunted to our very age | |
With the vain shadow of the past, | 230 |
As is Mazeppa to the last. | |
|
VI. We met,we gazed,I saw, and sighed, | |
She did not speak, and yet replied; | |
There are ten thousand tones and signs | |
We hear and see, but none defines, | 235 |
Involuntary sparks of thought, | |
Which strike from out the heart oerwrought, | |
And form a strange intelligence, | |
Alike mysterious and intense, | |
Which link the burning chain that binds, | 240 |
Without their will, young hearts and minds; | |
Conveying, as the electric wire, | |
We know not how, the absorbing fire. | |
I saw, and sighed,in silence wept, | |
And still reluctant distance kept, | 245 |
Until I was made known to her, | |
And we might then and there confer | |
Without suspicion,then, even then, | |
I longed, and was resolved to speak; | |
But on my lips they died again, | 250 |
The accents tremulous and weak, | |
Until one hour. There is a game, | |
A frivolous and foolish play, | |
Wherewith we while away the day; | |
It isI have forgot the name, | 255 |
And we to this, it seems, were set, | |
By some strange chance, which I forget: | |
I recked not if I won or lost, | |
It was enough for me to be | |
So near to hear, and O, to see | 260 |
The being whom I loved the most. | |
I watched her as a sentinel, | |
(May ours this dark night watch as well!) | |
Until I saw, and thus it was, | |
That she was pensive, nor perceived | 265 |
Her occupation, nor was grieved | |
Nor glad to lose or gain; but still | |
Played on for hours, as if her will | |
Yet bound her to the place, though not | |
That hers might be the winning lot. | 270 |
Then through my brain the thought did pass | |
Even as a flash of lightning there, | |
That there was something in her air | |
Which would not doom me to despair; | |
And on the thought my words broke forth, | 275 |
All incoherent as they were, | |
Their eloquence was little worth, | |
But yet she listened,t is enough, | |
Who listens once will listen twice; | |
Her heart, be sure, is not of ice, | 280 |
And one refusal no rebuff. | |
|
VII. I loved, and was beloved again, | |
They tell me, Sire, you never knew | |
Those gentle frailties; if t is true, | |
I shorten all my joy or pain, | 285 |
To you t would seem absurd as vain; | |
But all men are not born to reign, | |
Or oer their passions, or, as you, | |
Thus oer themselves and nations too. | |
I amor rather wasa prince, | 290 |
A chief of thousands, and could lead | |
Them on where each would foremost bleed; | |
But could not oer myself evince | |
The like control. But to resume: | |
I loved, and was beloved again; | 295 |
In sooth, it is a happy doom, | |
But yet where happiness ends in pain. | |
We met in secret, and the hour | |
Which led me to that ladys bower | |
Was fiery expectations dower. | 300 |
My days and nights were nothing,all | |
Except that hour, which doth recall | |
In the long lapse from youth to age | |
No other like itself,I d give | |
The Ukraine back again to live | 305 |
It oer once more,and be a page, | |
The happy page, who was the lord | |
Of one soft heart, and his own sword, | |
And had no other gem nor wealth | |
Save Natures gift of youth and health, | 310 |
We met in secret,doubly sweet, | |
Some say, they find it so to meet; | |
I know not that,I would have given | |
My life but to have called her mine | |
In the full view of earth and heaven; | 315 |
For I did oft and long repine | |
That we could only meet by stealth. | |
|
VIII. For lovers there are many eyes, | |
And such there were on us: the devil | |
On such occasions should be civil, | 320 |
The devil! I m loath to do him wrong, | |
It might be some untoward saint, | |
Who would not be at rest too long, | |
But to his pious bile gave vent, | |
But one fair night, some lurking spies | 325 |
Surprised and seized us both. | |
The count was something more than wroth, | |
I was unarmed; but if in steel, | |
All cap-à-pie, from head to heel, | |
What gainst their numbers could I do? | 330 |
T was near his castle, far away | |
From city or from succor near, | |
And almost on the break of day; | |
I did not think to see another, | |
My moments seemed reduced to few; | 335 |
And with one prayer to Mary Mother, | |
And, it may be, a saint or two, | |
As I resigned me to my fate, | |
They led me to the castle gate: | |
Theresas doom I never knew, | 340 |
Our lot was henceforth separate. | |
An angry man, ye may opine, | |
Was he, the proud Count Palatine; | |
And he had reason good to be, | |
But he was most enraged lest such | 345 |
An accident should chance to touch | |
Upon his future pedigree; | |
Nor less amazed, that such a blot | |
His noble scutcheon should have got, | |
While he was highest of his line: | 350 |
Because unto himself he seemed | |
The first of men, nor less he deemed | |
In others eyes, and most in mine. | |
Sdeath! with a page,perchance a king | |
Had reconciled him to the thing: | 355 |
But with a stripling of a page, | |
I felt, but cannot paint his rage. | |
|
IX. Bring forth the horse!the horse was brought, | |
In truth, he was a noble steed, | |
A Tartar of the Ukraine breed, | 360 |
Who looked as though the speed of thought | |
Were in his limbs: but he was wild, | |
Wild as the wild deer, and untaught, | |
With spur and bridle undefiled, | |
T was but a day he had been caught; | 365 |
And snorting, with erected mane, | |
And struggling fiercely, but in vain, | |
In the full foam of wrath and dread, | |
To me the desert-born was led; | |
They bound me on, that menial throng, | 370 |
Upon his back with many a thong; | |
Then loosed him with a sudden lash, | |
Away!away!and on we dash! | |
Torrents less rapid and less rash. | |
|
X. Away!away! My breath was gone, | 375 |
I saw not where he hurried on: | |
T was scarcely yet the break of day, | |
And on he foamed,away!away! | |
The last of human sounds which rose, | |
As I was darted from my foes, | 380 |
Was the wild shout of savage laughter, | |
Which on the wind came roaring after | |
A moment from that rabble rout: | |
With sudden wrath I wrenched my head, | |
And snapped the cord, which to the mane | 385 |
Had bound my neck in lieu of rein, | |
And writhing half my form about, | |
Howled back my curse; but midst the tread, | |
The thunder of my coursers speed, | |
Perchance they did not hear nor heed: | 390 |
It vexes me,for I would fain | |
Have paid their insult back again. | |
I paid it well in after days: | |
There is not of that castle gate, | |
Its drawbridge and portcullis weight, | 395 |
Stone, bar, moat, bridge, or barrier left; | |
Nor of its fields a blade of grass, | |
Save what grows on a ridge of wall, | |
Where stood the hearthstone of the hall; | |
And many a time ye there might pass, | 400 |
Nor dream that eer that fortress was: | |
I saw its turrets in a blaze, | |
Their crackling battlements all cleft, | |
And the hot lead pour down like rain | |
From off the scorched and blackening roof, | 405 |
Whose thickness was not vengeance-proof. | |
They little thought that day of pain, | |
When launched, as on the lightnings flash, | |
They bade me to destruction dash, | |
That one day I should come again, | 410 |
With twice five thousand horse, to thank | |
The count for his uncourteous ride. | |
They played me then a bitter prank, | |
When, with the wild horse for my guide, | |
They bound me to his foaming flank: | 415 |
At length I played them one as frank, | |
For time at last sets all things even, | |
And if we do but watch the hour, | |
There never yet was human power | |
Which could evade, if unforgiven, | 420 |
The patient search and vigil long | |
Of him who treasures up a wrong. | |
|
XI. Away, away, my steed and I, | |
Upon the pinions of the wind, | |
All human dwellings left behind; | 425 |
We sped like meteors through the sky, | |
When with its crackling sound the night | |
Is checkered with the northern light: | |
Town,village,none were on our track, | |
But a wild plain of far extent, | 430 |
And bounded by a forest black: | |
And, save the scarce-seen battlement | |
On distant heights of some strong hold, | |
Against the Tartars built of old, | |
No trace of man. The year before | 435 |
A Turkish army had marched oer; | |
And where the Spahis hoof hath trod, | |
The verdure flies the bloody sod: | |
The sky was dull, and dim, and gray, | |
And a low breeze crept moaning by, | 440 |
I could have answered with a sigh, | |
But fast we fled, away, away, | |
And I could neither sigh nor pray; | |
And my cold sweat-drops fell like rain | |
Upon the coursers bristling mane: | 445 |
But, snorting still with rage and fear, | |
He flew upon his far career: | |
At times I almost thought, indeed, | |
He must have slackened in his speed: | |
But no,my bound and slender frame | 450 |
Was nothing to his angry might, | |
And merely like a spur became: | |
Each motion which I made to free | |
My swoln limbs from their agony | |
Increased his fury and affright: | 455 |
I tried my voice,t was faint and low, | |
But yet he swerved as from a blow; | |
And, starting to each accent, sprang | |
As from a sudden trumpets clang: | |
Meantime my cords were wet with gore, | 460 |
Which, oozing through my limbs, ran oer; | |
And in my tongue the thirst became | |
A something fierier far than flame. | |
|
XII. We neared the wild wood,t was so wide, | |
I saw no bounds on either side; | 465 |
T was studded with old sturdy trees, | |
That bent not to the roughest breeze | |
Which howls down from Siberias waste, | |
And strips the forest in its haste, | |
But these were few, and far between, | 470 |
Set thick with shrubs more young and green, | |
Luxuriant with their annual leaves, | |
Ere strown by those autumnal eves | |
That nip the forests foliage dead, | |
Discolored with a lifeless red, | 475 |
Which stands thereon like stiffened gore | |
Upon the slain when battle s oer, | |
And some long winters night hath shed | |
Its frost oer every tombless head, | |
So cold and stark the ravens beak | 480 |
May peck unpierced each frozen cheek: | |
T was a wild waste of underwood, | |
And here and there a chestnut stood, | |
The strong oak, and the hardy pine; | |
But far apart,and well it were, | 485 |
Or else a different lot were mine, | |
The boughs gave way, and did not tear | |
My limbs; and I found strength to bear | |
My wounds, already scarred with cold, | |
My bonds forbade to loose my hold. | 490 |
We rustled through the leaves like wind, | |
Left shrubs and trees and wolves behind; | |
By night I heard them on the track, | |
Their troop came hard upon our back, | |
With their long gallop, which can tire | 495 |
The hounds deep hate, and hunters fire: | |
Whereer we flew they followed on, | |
Nor left us with the morning sun; | |
Behind I saw them, scarce a rood, | |
At daybreak winding through the wood, | 500 |
And through the night had heard their feet | |
Their stealing, rustling step repeat. | |
O, how I wished for spear or sword, | |
At least to die amidst the horde, | |
And perishif it must be so | 505 |
At bay, destroying many a foe. | |
When first my coursers race begun, | |
I wished the goal already won; | |
But now I doubted strength and speed. | |
Vain doubt! his swift and savage breed | 510 |
Had nerved him like the mountain-roe; | |
Nor faster falls the blinding snow | |
Which whelms the peasant near the door | |
Whose threshold he shall cross no more, | |
Bewildered with the dazzling blast, | 515 |
Than through the forest-paths he past, | |
Untired, untamed, and worse than wild; | |
All furious as a favored child | |
Balked of its wish; or, fiercer still, | |
A woman piqued, who has her will. | 520 |
|
XIII. The wood was past; t was more than noon; | |
But chill the air, although in June; | |
Or it might be my veins ran cold, | |
Prolonged endurance tames the bold: | |
And I was then not what I seem, | 525 |
But headlong as a wintry stream, | |
And wore my feelings out before | |
I well could count their causes oer: | |
And what with fury, fear, and wrath, | |
The tortures which beset my path, | 530 |
Cold, hunger, sorrow, shame, distress, | |
Thus bound in natures nakedness; | |
Sprung from a race whose rising blood | |
When stirred beyond its calmer mood, | |
And trodden hard upon, is like | 535 |
The rattlesnakes, in act to strike, | |
What marvel if this worn-out trunk | |
Beneath its woes a moment sunk? | |
The earth gave way, the skies rolled round, | |
I seemed to sink upon the ground; | 540 |
But erred, for I was fastly bound. | |
My heart turned sick, my brain grew sore, | |
And throbbed awhile, then beat no more: | |
The skies spun like a mighty wheel; | |
I saw the trees like drunkards reel, | 545 |
And a slight flash sprang oer my eyes, | |
Which saw no farther: he who dies | |
Can die no more than then I died. | |
Oertortured by that ghastly ride, | |
I felt the blackness come and go, | 550 |
And strove to wake; but could not make | |
My senses climb up from below: | |
I felt as on a plank at sea, | |
When all the waves that dash oer thee, | |
At the same time upheave and whelm, | 555 |
And hurl thee towards a desert realm. | |
My undulating life was as | |
The fancied lights that flitting pass | |
Our shut eyes in deep midnight, when | |
Fever begins upon the brain; | 560 |
But soon it passed, with little pain, | |
But a confusion worse than such: | |
I own that I should deem it much, | |
Dying, to feel the same again; | |
And yet I do suppose we must | 565 |
Feel far more ere we turn to dust: | |
No matter; I have bared my brow | |
Full in Deaths facebeforeand now. | |
|
XIV. My thoughts came back; where was I? Cold, | |
And numb, and giddy: pulse by pulse | 570 |
Life reassumed its lingering hold, | |
And throb by throb; till grown a pang | |
Which for a moment would convulse. | |
My blood reflowed, though thick and chill; | |
My ear with uncouth noises rang, | 575 |
My heart began once more to thrill; | |
My sight returned, though dim, alas! | |
And thickened, as it were, with glass. | |
Methought the dash of waves was nigh; | |
There was a gleam too of the sky, | 580 |
Studded with stars;it is no dream; | |
The wild horse swims the wilder stream! | |
The bright broad rivers gushing tide | |
Sweeps, winding onward, far and wide, | |
And we are half-way struggling oer | 585 |
To yon unknown and silent shore. | |
The waters broke my hollow trance. | |
And with a temporary strength | |
My stiffened limbs were rebaptized, | |
My coursers broad breast proudly braves, | 590 |
And dashes off the ascending waves, | |
And onward we advance! | |
We reach the slippery shore at length, | |
A haven I but little prized, | |
For all behind was dark and drear, | 595 |
And all before was night and fear. | |
How many hours of night or day | |
In those suspended pangs I lay, | |
I could not tell; I scarcely knew | |
If this were human breath I drew. | 600 |
|
XV. With glossy skin, and dripping mane, | |
And reeling limbs, and reeking flank, | |
The wild steeds sinewy nerves still strain | |
Up the repelling bank. | |
We gain the top: a boundless plain | 605 |
Spreads through the shadow of the night, | |
And onward, onward, onward, seems | |
Like precipices in our dreams, | |
To stretch beyond the sight; | |
And here and there a speck of white, | 610 |
Or scattered spot of dusky green, | |
In masses broke into the light, | |
As rose the moon upon my right. | |
But naught distinctly seen | |
In the dim waste, would indicate | 615 |
The omen of a cottage gate; | |
No twinkling taper from afar | |
Stood like a hospitable star; | |
Not even an ignis-fatuus rose | |
To make him merry with my woes: | 620 |
That very cheat had cheered me then! | |
Although detected, welcome still, | |
Reminding me, through every ill, | |
Of the abodes of men. | |
|
XVI. Onward we went,but slack and slow; | 625 |
His savage force at length oerspent, | |
The drooping courser, faint and low, | |
All feebly foaming went. | |
A sickly infant had had power | |
To guide him forward in that hour; | 630 |
But useless all to me. | |
His new-born tameness naught availed, | |
My limbs were bound; my force had failed, | |
Perchance, had they been free. | |
With feeble effort still I tried | 635 |
To rend the bonds so starkly tied, | |
But still it was in vain; | |
My limbs were only wrung the more, | |
And soon the idle strife gave oer, | |
Which but prolonged their pain: | 640 |
The dizzy race seemed almost done, | |
Although no goal was nearly won: | |
Some streaks announced the coming sun. | |
How slow, alas! he came! | |
Methought that mist of dawning gray | 645 |
Would never dapple into day; | |
How heavily it rolled away, | |
Before the eastern flame | |
Rose crimson, and deposed the stars, | |
And called the radiance from their cars, | 650 |
And filled the earth, from his deep throne, | |
With lonely lustre, all his own. | |
|
XVII. Up rose the sun; the mists were curled | |
Back from the solitary world | |
Which lay aroundbehindbefore: | 655 |
What booted it to traverse oer | |
Plain, forest, river? Man nor brute, | |
Nor dint of hoof, nor print of foot, | |
Lay in the wild luxuriant soil; | |
No sign of travel,none of toil; | 660 |
The very air was mute; | |
And not an insects shrill small horn, | |
Nor matin birds new voice was borne | |
From herb nor thicket. Many a werst, | |
Panting as if his heart would burst, | 665 |
The weary brute still staggered on; | |
And still we wereor seemedalone: | |
At length, while reeling on our way, | |
Methought I heard a courser neigh, | |
From out yon tuft of blackening firs. | 670 |
Is it the wind those branches stirs? | |
No, no! from out the forest prance | |
A trampling troop; I see them come! | |
In one vast squadron they advance! | |
I strove to cry,my lips were dumb. | 675 |
The steeds rush on in plunging pride; | |
But where are they the reins to guide? | |
A thousand horse,and none to ride! | |
With flowing tail, and flying mane, | |
Wide nostrils,never stretched by pain, | 680 |
Mouths bloodless to the bit or rein, | |
And feet that iron never shod, | |
And flanks unscarred by spur or rod, | |
A thousand horse, the wild, the free, | |
Like waves that follow oer the sea, | 685 |
Came thickly thundering on, | |
As if our faint approach to meet; | |
The sight renerved my coursers feet, | |
A moment staggering, feebly fleet, | |
A moment, with a faint low neigh, | 690 |
He answered, and then fell; | |
With gasps and glazing eyes he lay, | |
And reeking limbs immovable, | |
His first and last career is done! | |
On came the troop,they saw him stoop, | 695 |
They saw me strangely bound along | |
His back with many a bloody thong: | |
They stopthey startthey snuff the air, | |
Gallop a moment here and there, | |
Approach, retire, wheel round and round, | 700 |
Then plunging back with sudden bound, | |
Headed by one black mighty steed, | |
Who seemed the patriarch of his breed, | |
Without a single speck or hair | |
Of white upon his shaggy hide; | 705 |
They snortthey foamneighswerve aside, | |
And backward to the forest fly, | |
By instinct from a human eye, | |
They left me there, to my despair, | |
Linked to the dead and stiffening wretch, | 710 |
Whose lifeless limbs beneath me stretch, | |
Relieved from that unwonted weight, | |
From whence I could not extricate | |
Nor him nor me,and there we lay, | |
The dying on the dead! | 715 |
I little deemed another day | |
Would see my houseless, helpless head. | |
And there from morn till twilight bound, | |
I felt the heavy hours toil round, | |
With just enough of life to see | 720 |
My last of suns go down on me, | |
In hopeless certainty of mind, | |
That makes us feel at length resigned | |
To that which our foreboding years | |
Presents the worst and last of fears | 725 |
Inevitable,even a boon, | |
Nor more unkind for coming soon; | |
Yet shunned and dreaded with such care, | |
As if it only were a snare | |
That prudence might escape: | 730 |
At times both wished for and implored, | |
At times sought with self-pointed sword, | |
Yet still a dark and hideous close | |
To even intolerable woes, | |
And welcome in no shape. | 735 |
And, strange to say, the sons of pleasure, | |
They who have revelled beyond measure | |
In beauty, wassail, wine, and treasure, | |
Die calm, or calmer oft than he | |
Whose heritage was misery: | 740 |
For he who hath in turn run through | |
All that was beautiful and new, | |
Hath naught to hope and naught to leave; | |
And, save the future (which is viewed | |
Not quite as men are base or good, | 745 |
But as their nerves may be endued), | |
With naught perhaps to grieve: | |
The wretch still hopes his woes must end, | |
And Death, whom he should deem his friend, | |
Appears to his distempered eyes | 750 |
Arrived to rob him of his prize, | |
The tree of his new Paradise. | |
To-morrow would have given him all, | |
Repaid his pangs, repaired his fall; | |
To-morrow would have been the first | 755 |
Of days no more deplored or curst, | |
But bright and long and beckoning years, | |
Seen dazzling through the mist of tears, | |
Guerdon of many a painful hour; | |
To-morrow would have given him power | 760 |
To rule, to shine, to smite, to save, | |
And must it dawn upon his grave? | |
|
XVIII. The sun was sinking,still I lay | |
Chained to the chill and stiffening steed, | |
I thought to mingle there our clay; | 765 |
And my dim eyes of death had need, | |
No hope arose of being freed: | |
I cast my last looks up the sky, | |
And there between me and the sun | |
I saw the expecting raven fly, | 770 |
Who scarce would wait till both should die, | |
Ere his repast begun; | |
He flew, and perched, then flew once more, | |
And each time nearer than before; | |
I saw his wing through twilight flit, | 775 |
And once so near me he alit | |
I could have smote, but lacked the strength; | |
But the slight motion of my hand, | |
And feeble scratching of the sand, | |
The exerted throats faint struggling noise, | 780 |
Which scarcely could be called a voice, | |
Together scared him off at length. | |
I know no more,my latest dream | |
Is something of a lovely star | |
Which fixed my dull eyes from afar, | 785 |
And went and came with wandering beam, | |
And of the cold, dull, swimming, dense | |
Sensation of recurring sense, | |
And then subsiding back to death, | |
And then again a little breath, | 790 |
A little thrill, a short suspense, | |
An icy sickness curdling oer | |
My heart, and sparks that crossed my brain, | |
A gasp, a throb, a start of pain, | |
A sigh, and nothing more. | 795 |
|
XIX. I woke. Where was I?Do I see | |
A human face look down on me? | |
And doth a roof above me close? | |
Do these limbs on a couch repose? | |
Is this a chamber where I lie? | 800 |
And is it mortal yon bright eye, | |
That watches me with gentle glance? | |
I closed my own again once more, | |
As doubtful that the former trance | |
Could not as yet be oer. | 805 |
A slender girl, long-haired, and tall, | |
Sate watching by the cottage wall; | |
The sparkle of her eye I caught, | |
Even with my first return of thought; | |
Forever and anon she threw | 810 |
A prying, pitying glance on me | |
With her black eyes so wild and free: | |
I gazed, and gazed, until I knew | |
No vision it could be, | |
But that I lived, and was released | 815 |
From adding to the vultures feast: | |
And when the Cossack maid beheld | |
My heavy eyes at length unsealed, | |
She smiled,and I essayed to speak, | |
But failed,and she approached, and made | 820 |
With lip and finger signs that said, | |
I must not strive as yet to break | |
The silence, till my strength should be | |
Enough to leave my accents free; | |
And then her hand on mine she laid, | 825 |
And smoothed the pillow for my head, | |
And stole along on tiptoe tread, | |
And gently oped the door, and spake | |
In whispers,neer was voice so sweet, | |
Even music followed her light feet! | 830 |
But those she called were not awake, | |
And she went forth; but ere she passed, | |
Another look on me she cast, | |
Another sign she made, to say, | |
That I had naught to fear, that all | 835 |
Were near, at my command or call, | |
And she would not delay | |
Her due return;while she was gone, | |
Methought I felt too much alone. | |
|
XX. She came with mother and with sire, | 840 |
What need of more?I will not tire | |
With long recital of the rest, | |
Since I became the Cossacks guest: | |
They found me senseless on the plain, | |
They bore me to the nearest hut, | 845 |
They brought me into life again, | |
Me,one day oer their realm to reign! | |
Thus the vain fool who strove to glut | |
His rage, refining on my pain, | |
Sent me forth to the wilderness, | 850 |
Bound, naked, bleeding, and alone, | |
To pass the desert to a throne. | |
What mortal his own doom may guess? | |
Let none despond, let none despair! | |
To-morrow the Borysthenes | 855 |
May see our coursers graze at ease | |
Upon his Turkish bank,and never | |
Had I such welcome for a river | |
As I shall yield when safely there. | |
Comrades, good night!The hetman threw | 860 |
His length beneath the oak-tree shade, | |
With leafy couch already made, | |
A bed nor comfortless nor new | |
To him, who took his rest wheneer | |
The hour arrived, no matter where: | 865 |
His eyes the hastening slumbers steep. | |
And if ye marvel Charles forgot | |
To thank his tale, he wondered not, | |
The king had been an hour asleep. | |
|