Then what rage possess'd the savage tatars;
From his eyes the Khan roll'd clouds of darkness —
In three legions he his troops divided —
In three legions, lo! they storm'd the mountain;
Twenty christians fell beneath the tatar —
All the twenty fell their posts maintaining,
And beneath the walls their bodies weltered.
Then the tatars storm'd the walls — loud shouting,
As if thunder-storms were shaking heaven:
So they rush'd upon the christians' ramparts,
From the walls they hurl'd their brave defenders,
Crush'd them even like worms, and left them scatter'd
On the open field — and long and bloody,
Long and furious was the fierce encounter,
Till the night upon their heads descended.

God of mercy! God! the brave Weneslaw,
Brave Weneslaw by an arrow wounded
From the rampart falls! — Heart-breaking sorrow!
Dreadful thirst burns up the christians' bowels,
With parch'd palate, ah! they lick the dew-drops
From the grass — and now the quiet evening
Comes — and chilling night the evening follows,
And the night slow-dawns into the morning —
In the tatar camp is solemn silence,
And the day awakes, and mid-day scorches,
And all, agonized with thirst, the christians
Sink upon the face of earth exhausted —
Choked, they open their dry lips, and hoarsely
Pour a prayer to God's most holy mother;
Up to her they turn their feeble eyelids,
Up to her their weary arms outstretching,
Plaints of anguish pour they out to heaven:
" Ah! we can endure this thirst no longer,
With a thirst like this we cannot combat;
He who loves his life, his weal — had better
Seek for mercy, even among the tatars! "
Thus said many — thus repeated many —
" Better by the sword to die, far better
Than of thirst — we'll quench our thirst in bondage,
Track my steps who think so " — thus cried Weston,
" Track my steps who die of thirst! " Uprising
With a bull's own prowess, see Wratislaw
Seize on Weston, and in fiercest language
Shouting — " Traitor! coward! christians' scandal!
Wilt thou rush upon thy soul's damnation?
Virtue only seeks relief from heaven,
Not from bondage 'neath the savage tatars;
Run not, brethren! run not to perdition —
Ye have passed the worst — the fiercest sunshine —
God has help'd us thro' the heat of noon-tide —
God has mercy for his faithful servants —
Shame! O shame! such words should e'er find utterance!
But if ye will bear the name of heroes,
Rather than for thirst our mount surrender,
Let us die the death that God provides us —
If we yield us to the tatars sabres,
Basely, vilely — we commit self-murder.
Slavery's yoke is God's abomination,
'Tis a sin accurs'd to bend to bondage —
Track my steps — my steps — ye men, whose courage
Will escort me to the virgin's altar. "

So they crowded round, and sought the chapel —
" Lord! arouse thee in thy awful terrors!
Lord! restore their country to thy people;
Lord! revive us from our wretched sorrows!
Hear our voices calling on thee loudly —
For our foes surround us — they surround us —
Save us from the snare-pits of the heathen:
Give us comfort, father! give refreshment —
Long and loud shall be thy people's praises;
Chase the foes that waste our hapless country,
And extirpate them, O God! for ever! "
Look! a cloud upon the sultry heaven —
Hark! the waking wind — the rolling thunder —
Darkness — darkness all the sky is mantling;
Lightning flashes fiercely 'midst the tatars,
And a copious rain fills every fountain.

Then the storm pass'd over — and the warriors
Once again assembled — every district
Sent its levies — and beneath their banners
All the gathering tribes advanc'd on Olmütz;
By their sides three mighty swords were hanging;
Quivers full of arrows rustl'd loudly;
On their heads they bore their polish'd helmets,
And beneath them leap'd their proud war-horses.
There were the awakening sounds of trumpets,
Noise of kettle drums and martial music.
So one army rush'd upon the other —
Then like clouds the moving dust ascended,
And the fight was fiercer than the former.
Noise — confusion — swords together clashing —
Striking in the air of poison'd arrows,
Crash of spears, and whiz of many missiles —
Then was hewing down, and then was stabbing,
Mournful wailings then, and loud rejoicings —
Blood in streams flow'd forth like mountain-torrents,
Corpses lay as trees when fell'd in forests,
Here a warrior's head that's cleft insunder,
There a warrior's trunk, both arms dissever'd,
There another flung from off his war-horse,
Here, one stripp'd, upon his foeman lying
As a storm-rent tree upon the mountain;
Here, a sword to heft in bosom buried,
There, a tatar hath an ear off-smitten.
And what shoutings then and groans and curses!
Yet again the christians are retreating,
Yet again the tatar-hosts pursuing:
But the eagle, Jaroslaw, approaches;
Harden'd steel is on the strongest bosom;
Under it is wisdom's ready courage,
'Neath his helm the lynx-eyed glance of hero,
Glanced with all the glow of valor beaming —
Lo! he storms, as storms the hungry lion,
When he sees his destin'd prey approaching,
Or when wounded turns on his pursuer,
So Jaroslaw turn'd upon the tatars —
Like a hail-storm follow the bohemians —
And he sprung upon the son of Kublay —
What a fearful, what a bloody struggle!
Couching spear 'gainst spear — then eager thrusting,
Each, as if to crush in dust the other.
Then Jaroslaw on his valiant war-horse,
Bath'd in blood, turn'd on the son of Kublay,
And with dextrous push, his lance he planted
In his shoulder till it reached his haunches,
Lifeless on the grass he fell — his quiver
Made a hollow sound which told his story:
Then dismay'd they fled, the savage tatars,
Threw away their long-long pikes, and hurried —
Hurried where they might, in search of safety;
Hurried where the sun just starts at morning.
So was Hana freed from tatar-terrors.