But whose that wandering form that's seen
But whose that wandering from that 's seen
Athwart the morning fog to creep
From out yon hut, and on the steep
Beneath which Lena's waters sweep
Pace with slow step and 'wildered mien?
His arquebus slung at his back,
His short caftan, and cap of black,
Seem to denote him a Cossack
From Dnieper's shores. Stern is his face,
And full of grief, for cankering thought
Hath furrowed deep that brow, and wrought
The stamp of age on manhood's grace.
See! to the west his hands extending,
Wild lustre breaking from his eyes,
Homeward his thoughts and wishes sending,
He thus exclaims with tearless sigh:
" Ye distant fields, that saw my birth,
My death you may not view!
Tombs of my sires! The exile's bones
Will never rest in you!
In vain the flame of life yet burns, —
It never more may shine;
In vain my soul the dastard spurns, —
The dastard's lot is mine. "
. . . . . . . .
Who is that exile? None may tell:
Months, years have passed since first he came
To this his far abode of shame,
Here shunned, and shunning all, to dwell.
Ne'er hath a smile been seen to play
Across that face blanched by despair;
And woe, not age, hath tinged with grey
His unkempt beard and matted hair.
Yet, not a felon deed hath sent
That stranger hither; nor hath brent
The glowing iron his scarred face,
And charactered a slave's disgrace;
Though ne'er did branded felon show
Such withered look, so wild a brow.
Calmness is there, but 't is the calm
Of Baykal, ere the tempest rise
To lash its waters to the skies,
Spreading around dismay, alarm;
And, as athwart the midnight gloom
Flickers the lamp beside the tomb,
So gleam with ghastly glare his eyes.
Wandering alone o'er crag, through dell,
He roams each day, and none may dare
To ask his name, his grief, his care:
His frown forbids, that frown 's a spell.
. . . . . . . .
" List, stranger, and with wonder learn
How Fate, unpitying, wayward, stern,
Delights us mortals to oppress.
Beneath this garb uncouth, this dress
So coarse, a slave it scarce befits,
Thus abject here beside thee sits
Mazeppa's kinsman, friend, and heir. "
Athwart the morning fog to creep
From out yon hut, and on the steep
Beneath which Lena's waters sweep
Pace with slow step and 'wildered mien?
His arquebus slung at his back,
His short caftan, and cap of black,
Seem to denote him a Cossack
From Dnieper's shores. Stern is his face,
And full of grief, for cankering thought
Hath furrowed deep that brow, and wrought
The stamp of age on manhood's grace.
See! to the west his hands extending,
Wild lustre breaking from his eyes,
Homeward his thoughts and wishes sending,
He thus exclaims with tearless sigh:
" Ye distant fields, that saw my birth,
My death you may not view!
Tombs of my sires! The exile's bones
Will never rest in you!
In vain the flame of life yet burns, —
It never more may shine;
In vain my soul the dastard spurns, —
The dastard's lot is mine. "
. . . . . . . .
Who is that exile? None may tell:
Months, years have passed since first he came
To this his far abode of shame,
Here shunned, and shunning all, to dwell.
Ne'er hath a smile been seen to play
Across that face blanched by despair;
And woe, not age, hath tinged with grey
His unkempt beard and matted hair.
Yet, not a felon deed hath sent
That stranger hither; nor hath brent
The glowing iron his scarred face,
And charactered a slave's disgrace;
Though ne'er did branded felon show
Such withered look, so wild a brow.
Calmness is there, but 't is the calm
Of Baykal, ere the tempest rise
To lash its waters to the skies,
Spreading around dismay, alarm;
And, as athwart the midnight gloom
Flickers the lamp beside the tomb,
So gleam with ghastly glare his eyes.
Wandering alone o'er crag, through dell,
He roams each day, and none may dare
To ask his name, his grief, his care:
His frown forbids, that frown 's a spell.
. . . . . . . .
" List, stranger, and with wonder learn
How Fate, unpitying, wayward, stern,
Delights us mortals to oppress.
Beneath this garb uncouth, this dress
So coarse, a slave it scarce befits,
Thus abject here beside thee sits
Mazeppa's kinsman, friend, and heir. "
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