A light broke in upon my brain, —
It was the carol of a bird;

It ceased, and then it came again,

The sweetest song ear ever heard,
And mine was thankful till my eyes
Ran over with the glad surprise,
And they that moment could not see
I was the mate of misery.
But then by dull degrees came back
My senses to their wonted track;
I saw the dungeon walls and floor
Close slowly round me as before,
I saw the glimmer of the sun
Creeping as it before had done,
But through the crevice where it came
That bird was perch'd, as fond and tame,
And tamer than upon the tree;

A lovely bird, with azure wings,
And song that said a thousand things,
And seem'd to say them all for me!

I never saw its like before,

I ne'er shall see its likeness more:

It seem'd like me to want a mate,
But was not half so desolate,
And it was come to love me when
None lived to love me so again,
And cheering from my dungeon's brink,
Had brought me back to feel and think.

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XI

A kind of change came in my fate,
My keepers grew compassionate;
I know not what had made them so,
They were inured to sights of woe,
But so it was:
my broken chain
With links unfasten'd did remain,
And it was liberty to stride
Along my cell from side to side,
And up and down, and then athwart,
And tread it over every part;
And round the pillars one by one,
Returning where my walk begun,
Avoiding only, as I trod,

My brothers' graves without a sod;
For if I thought with heedless tread
My step profaned their lowly bed,
My breath came gaspingly and thick,
And my
crush'd heart fell blind and sick.

XII

I made a footing in the wall,

It was not there from to escape, For I had buried one and all

Who loved me in a human shape;

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And the whole earth would henceforth

be

A wider prison unto me.

No child, no sire, no kin had I,

No partner in my misery;

I thought of this, and I was glad,

For thought of them had made me ad;

I saw them and they were the same,
They were not changed like me in frame;
I saw their thousand years of snow
On high- their wide long lake below,
And the blue Rhone in fullest flow;
I heard the torrents leap and gush
O'er channell❜'d rock and broken bush;
I saw the white-wall'd distant town,
And whiter sails go skimming down.
And then there was a little isle,
Which in my very face did smile,

The only one in view;

A small green isle, it seem'd no more,
Scarce broader than my dungeon floor,
But in it there were three tall trees,
And o'er it blew the mountain breeze,
And by it there were waters flowing,

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And on it there were young flowers growing
Of gentle breath and hue.

The fish swam by the castle wall,
And they seem'd joyous each and all;
The eagle rode the rising blast,
Methought he never flew so fast
As then to me he seem'd to fly;

And then new tears came in my eye,
And I felt troubled and would fain
I had not left my recent chain.
And when I did descend again,
The darkness of my dim abode
Fell on me as a heavy load;
It was as is a new-dug grave,
Closing o'er one we sought to save;
And yet my glance, too much oppress'd,
Had almost need of such a rest.

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,
It was at length the same to me,
Fetter'd or fetterless to be,

I learn'd to love despair.
And thus when they appear'd at last,
And all my bonds aside were cast,
These heavy walls to me had grown
A hermitage and all my own!

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In quiet we had learn'd to dwell
My very chains and I grew friends,
So much a long communion tends
To make us what we are: - even I
Regain'd my freedom with a sigh.

MAZEPPA

ADVERTISEMENT

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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, 70
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, — and
Night,

Without a star, pursued her flight,
That steed from sunset until dawn
His chief would follow like a fawn.

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

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Than thee, Mazeppa! On the earth
So fit a pair had never birth,
Since Alexander's days till now,
As thy Bucephalus and thou.

All Scythia's fame to thine should yield
For pricking on o'er flood and field.'
Mazeppa answer'd, 'Ill betide

The school wherein I learn'd to ride!'
Quoth Charles, 'Old Hetman, wherefore so,
Since thou hast learn'd 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
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 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.'

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'Well, sire, with such a hope, I'll track
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,
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 Warsaw's diet)
He reign'd 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;
But soon his wrath being o'er, he took
Another mistress, or new book.
And then he gave prodigious fêtes
All Warsaw gather'd round his gates
To gaze upon his splendid court,
And dames, and chiefs, of princely port.
He was the Polish Solomon,
So sung his poets, all but one,
Who, being unpension'd, made a satire,
And boasted that he could not flatter.
It was a court of jousts and mimes,
Where every courtier tried at rhymes;
Even I for once produced some verses,
And sign'd my odes "Despairing Thyrsis."

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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

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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;
And such as I am love indeed
in good and ill.

In fierce extremes
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,

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Which strike from out the heart o'erwrought

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 sigh'd — in silence wept;
And still reluctant distance kept,
Until I was made known to her,
And we might then and there confer
Without suspicion then, even then,
I long'd, and was resolved to speak;
But on my lips they died again,

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.

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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, That she was pensive, nor perceived Her occupation, nor was grieved Nor glad to lose or gain; but still Play'd on for hours, as if her will Yet bound her to the place, though not That hers might be the winning lot. 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,

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.

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;
Το you 't would seem absurd as vain:
But all men are not born to reign,
Or o'er their passions, or as you,
Thus o'er themselves and nations too.
I am or rather was - a prince,

A chief of thousands, and could lead
Them on where each would foremost

bleed;

But could not o'er myself evince
The like control. But to resume:

I loved, and was beloved again;
In sooth, it is a happy doom,

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,

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