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 380 390 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 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 This done, Mazeppa spread his cloak, And flints unloosen'd kept their lock 70 and 80 Prepared and spread his slender stock; And to the monarch and his men The whole or portion offer'd then 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, 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 All Scythia's fame to thine should yield The school wherein I learn'd to ride!' And, sire, your limbs have need of rest, Of this your troop.' But I request,' Said Sweden's 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.' 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 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 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 of midnight; Large, dark, and swimming in the stream, Which seem'd to melt to its own beam; 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, 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; In fierce extremes in good and ill. 220 230 I saw, and sigh'd; And form a strange intelligence Which link the burning chain that binds, 240 We know not how, the absorbing fire. The accents tremulous and weak, Until one hour. There is a game, A frivolous and foolish play, Wherewith we while away the day; It is I have forgot the name And we to this, it seems, were set, By some strange chance, which I forget. 250 I reck'd not if I won or lost, It was enough for me to be So near to hear, and oh! to see The being whom I loved the most. I watch'd her as a sentinel (May ours this dark night watch as well!), Until I saw, and thus it was, Even as a flash of lightning there, All incoherent as they were Their eloquence was little worth, But yet she listen'd 't is enough, Who listens once will listen twice; Her heart, be sure, is not of ice, And one refusal no rebuff. 260 270 280 290 300 The happy page, who was the lord VIII 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 The Count was something more than wroth; I was unarm'd; but if in steel, From city or from succour near, My moments seem'd reduced to few; 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 perchance a king Had reconciled him to the thing; But with a stripling of a page! I felt but cannot paint his rage. 320 331 340 350 360 In truth, he was a noble steed, A Tartar of the Ukraine breed, Who look'd 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. 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 I saw not where he hurried on: 'T was scarcely yet the break of day, And on he foam'd 380 - away!-away! The last of human sounds which rose, As I was darted from my foes, Was the wild shout of savage laughter, Which on the wind came roaring after A moment from that rabble rout. With sudden wrath I wrench'd my head, And snapp'd the cord, which to the mane Had bound my neck in lieu of rein, And, writhing half my form about, Howl'd back my curse; but 'midst the tread, The thunder of my courser's 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: Its drawbridge and portcullis' weight, |