The ancient armoury. With heed did Robak
Both guns and swords consider; then he went
Towards the farm to get intelligence.
While looking for the servants, to inquire
About the Count, he in the empty farm
Found hardly two old women, and from them
He learned, the master and his household train
Had marched tumultuously in arms to Dobrzyn.
Throughout Litvania widely had renown
The settlement of the Dobrzynskis, through
Its mankind’s courage, and its women’s beauty.
In former days ’twas numerous and strong;
For when King John the Third by wici172 called
A general levy, from this very Dobrzyn
The standard-bearer of the region led
Two hundred nobles to him under arms.
To-day the family was fewer and poorer.
In former days, in courts of lords, or in
The army, or incursions, sejmik broils,
Had the Dobrzynskis eaten bread of ease:
Now, like the hireling peasantry, must they
Work for their living; they however wore not
The peasants’ russet, but the white capote
With stripes of black, on Sundays the kontusz.
Likewise the dress their noble ladies wore,
The poorest even, from the jackets worn
By peasant women was quite different.
They wore fine calicoes and muslin gowns;
And when they led the beasts to pasture, they
Went not in shoes of bark, but slippers wore,
And they reaped corn, and even spun in gloves.
And ’mid their Litvin brothers the Dobrzynskis
Were by their tongue distinguished, by their stature,
And by their features. Of pure Lechite blood,173
Black hair had all, high foreheads, eagle noses,
Black eyes. They from the Dobrzyn land derive
Their ancient race, and though four hundred years
In Litva settled, they had still preserved
Their Mazov speech and customs. When a child
Of theirs received a name in christening, they
Chose for its saint a patron of the Crown,
’Twas Saint Bartholomew, or Saint Matthias.
Thus was the son of a Matthias named
Bartholomew; his son again was called
Matthias; and the women all were named
Catherine or Mary. In such great confusion
To know apart each other they conjoined
Unto their surname other different names,
From some defect or virtue, men and women.
At times the men received cognomina,
In sign of countrymen’s contempt or scorn.
A noble sometimes by one name in Dobrzyn
Was known, and in the neighbourhood around
By something other. And the nobles round
Would copy the Dobrzynskis, and assume,
Like them, such surnames, imioniska174 styled.
Now well-nigh every family has such,
But ’tis not generally known that they
In Dobrzyn had their origin, and there
Were necessary, though through all the rest
Of Litva, the same custom only rose
From senseless imitation. Thus Matthias
Dobrzynski, head of all the family,
Was called the Weathercock; then in the year
A thousand, seven hundred, ninety-four,
He changed his surname, and was Zabok175 named,
And the Dobrzynskis christened him the “Rabbit;”
But the Litvini Matthew of the Matthews.
As he o’er the Dobrzynskis, so his house
Ruled o’er the hamlet, as it stood between
The tavern and the church. Well might be known
’Twas visited but rarely, and a rabble
Did dwell therein, for doorless stood the gate.
The gardens were unfenced, unsown, the peach-trees
Upon the borders were o’ergrown with moss.
And yet this farm the hamlet’s capital
Appeared, and shapelier than the other houses;
Far more extensive, and its right side, where
A window stood, was built of brick. Besides,
There was a storehouse, granary, and barn,
A cattle-shed, and stables; all were placed
Together in a group, by nobles’ custom,
All things seemed wonderful, decayed, and old.
The house’s roofs were shining, as though formed
Of some green metal, from the moss and grass
That grew thereon, luxuriant as a mead.
Upon the barn-thatch, like a hanging garden
Of various plants, red crocus, and the nettle,
The yellow stonecrop, many-coloured trails
Of mercury, the nests of various birds;
Within the garrets pigeons; in the windows
The nests of swallows; at the house’s threshold
White rabbits skip, and in the untrodden grass
Do burrow. In a word, the house resembled
A cage or rabbit-hutch. But it had once
Been fortified. For on each side it bore
The trace of many and of fierce attacks.
Still lying in the grass before the door,
Large as a child’s head, was a cannon-ball
Of iron, come down from the Swedish wars;
And formerly a door-wing open wide
Was by this ball as by a stone retained.
Within the courtyard, from between the weeds
And absinth, rose the heads of ancient crosses,
In this unconsecrated ground the sign
That here lay some surprised by sudden death.
Who closely might consider storehouse, barn,
And cottage, saw their walls all speckled o’er,
From ground to roof, as by an insect swarm.
In midst of every spot a bullet lurked,
As in an earthy hole a humble-bee.
Around the doors all latches, hooks, and nails
Were cut asunder, or bore sabre marks.
Here certainly the temper had been proved
Of steel of Sigismond, which severs nails
From off the head, or cuts a hook straight through,
Yet in the sword-blade never comes a notch.
Above Dobrzynski’s door were coats of arms;
Yet were the armorial bearings hidden quite
By ranks of cheeses, thickly archèd o’er
By nests of swallows. In the house itself,
Coach-house, and stable, was a weapon-store,
As in an ancient armoury. Beneath
The roof there hung four monstrous helmets, once
The ornament of martial brows; to-day
The birds of Venus, pigeons, cooed therein,
And cherished there their nestlings; in the stable
A coat of mail upon the crib outspread,
And ringèd cuirass, as a manger served,
In which the stable-boy did clover throw
To young colts. In the kitchen several rapiers
The sacrilegious cook had blunted, placing
The roast upon them, using them as spits.
A horse-tail, trophy from Vienna, served
As winnower to a hand-mill; in a word,
Industrious Ceres thence had banished Mars,
And with Pomona, Flora, and Vertumnus,
Reigned o’er Dobrzynski’s house and granary.
But now the goddesses must yield again
To Mars returning. At the dawn of day,
A messenger on horseback had appeared
In Dobrzyn, hastening from house to house,
Arousing all as for the corvée. All
The brother nobles rise, the streets are filled
With crowds; a shout is in the tavern heard,
And lights are seen within the priestly house.
The old men counsel take, the young men saddle
The horses, while the women hold them back.
The boys all struggle forward; all are eager
To run, to fight, but know not whom to fight,
Nor where, and willy-nilly they must stay.
In the priest’s dwelling lengthy council lasts,
Tumultuous, and confusèd fearfully.
But as the opinions could not be agreed,
It
