But I was curious to ascend XIII 330 I saw them and they were the same, The only one in view; A small green isle, it seem'd no more, 340 And on it there were young flowers growing The fish swam by the castle wall, XIV It might be months, or years, or days — I kept no count, I took no note, I had no hope my eyes to raise, And clear them of their dreary mote. At last men came to set me free, I ask'd not why, and reck'd not where, I learn'd to love despair. 350 360 370 And half I felt as they were come In quiet we had learn'd to dwell - MAZEPPA ADVERTISEMENT 38c 390 Celui qui remplissait alors cette place était un gentilhomme Polonais, nommé Mazeppa, né dans le palatinat de Podolie: il avait été élevé page de Jean Casimir, et avait pris à sa cour quelque teinture des belles-lettres. Une intrigue qu'il eut dans sa jeunesse avec la femme d'un gentilhomme Polonais ayant été découverte, le mari le fit lier tout nu sur un cheval farouche, et le laissa aller en cet état. Le cheval, qui était du pays de l'Ukraine, y retourna, et y porta Mazeppa, demi-mort de fatigue et de faim. Quelques paysans le secoururent: il resta longtems parmi eux, et se signala dans plusieurs courses contre les Tartares. La supériorité de ses lumières lui donna une grande considération parmi les Cosaques : sa réputation s'augmentant de jour en jour obligea le Czar à le faire Prince de l'Ukraine. - VOLTAIRE, Hist. de Charles XII., p. 196. Le roi fuyant, et poursuivi, eut son cheval tué sous lui; le Colonel Gieta, blessé, et perdant tout son sang, lui donna le sien. Ainsi on remit deux fois à cheval, dans la fuite, ce conquérant qui n'avait pu y monter pendant la bataille. p. 216. Le roi alla par un autre chemin avec quelques cavaliers. Le carrosse où il était rompit dans la marche; on le remit à cheval. Pour comble de disgrace, il s'égara pendant la nuit dans un bois; là, son courage ne pouvant plus suppléer à ses forces épuisées, les douleurs de sa blessure devenues plus insupportables par la fatigue, son cheval étant tombé de lassitude, il se coucha quelques heures au pied d'un arbre, en danger d'être surpris à tout moment par les vainqueurs, qui le cherchaient de tous côtés. - p. 218. And all are fellows in their need. Among the rest, Mazeppa made His pillow in an old oak's shadeHimself as rough, and scarce less old, The Ukraine's hetman, calm and bold. But first, outspent with this long course, The Cossack prince rubb'd down his horse, And made for him a leafy bed, 59 And smooth'd his fetlocks and his mane, And slack'd his girth, and stripp'd his rein, And joy'd to see how well he fed; For until now he had the dread His wearied courser might refuse To browse beneath the midnight dews: But he was hardy as his lord, And little cared for bed and board; But spirited and docile too, Whate'er was to be done, would do. Shaggy and swift, and strong of limb, All Tartar-like he carried him; Obey'd his voice, and came to call, And knew him in the midst of all: Though thousands were around, Night, Without a star, pursued her flight, – That steed from sunset until dawn His chief would follow like a fawn. IV 74 and Than thee, Mazeppa! On the earth All Scythia's fame to thine should yield 110 The school wherein I learn'd to ride!' And, sire, your limbs have need of rest, Of this your troop.' 'But I request,' page 120 130 'Well, sire, with such a hope, I'll track 140 150 As few could match beneath the throne; And he would gaze upon his store, And o'er his pedigree would pore, Until by some confusion led, Which almost look'd like want of head, He thought their merits were his own. His wife was not of his opinion 170 His junior she by thirty years Grew daily tired of his dominion; And, after wishes, hopes, and fears, To virtue a few farewell tears, A restless dream or two, some glances At Warsaw's youth, some songs, and dances, Awaited but the usual chances (Those happy accidents which render 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. And thus I should be disavow'd Had ta'en my features for his page: 200 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 neighbourhood Transparent with the sun therein, 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, As is Mazeppa to the last. VI 'We met, we gazed- I saw, and sigh'd; She did not speak, and yet replied. There are ten thousand tones and signs We hear and see, but none defines Involuntary sparks of thought, 220 230 'I loved, and was beloved again A chief of thousands, and could lead Them on where each would foremost bleed; But could not o'er myself evince I loved, and was beloved again; But yet where happiest ends in pain. We met in secret, and the hour Which led me to that lady's bower Was fiery Expectation's dower. 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 It o'er once more; and be a page, 26c 270 28c 290 300 For lovers there are many eyes, And such there were on us; the devil On such occasions should be civil; The devil! I'm loth 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 The Count was something more than wroth; I was unarm'd; but if in steel, What 'gainst their numbers could I do? "T was near his castle, far away From city or from succour near, And almost on the break of day. I did not think to see another, My moments seem'd reduced to few; And with one prayer to Mary Mother, And, it may be, a saint or two, As I resign'd me to my fate, Theresa's doom I never knew, But he was most enraged lest such Nor less amazed, that such a blot Because unto himself he seem'd The first of men, nor less he deem'd In others' eyes, and most in mine. 'Sdeath! with a page perchance a king Had reconciled him to the thing; I felt but cannot paint his rage. 320 331 340 350 Away!-away!- My breath was gone 380 I saw not where he hurried on: |