“Captain, you will not stain your honour by
Accepting quarter; you have given proof,
Unfortunate, though brave, of courage; lay
Your sword down, ere we with our sabres shall
Disarm you; you shall keep both life and honour.
You are my prisoner.” Then Rykow, by
The Chamberlain’s exceeding dignity
Now vanquished, bowed low, and to him his sword,
Unsheathed, with bloodstained hilt gave up; then said,
“Ye Lachy! brothers! woe to me that I
Had not a single cannon. Well Suwarow
Was used to say, ‘Remember, comrade Rykow,
Without some cannon never march on Poles.’
The Jägers all were drunk! the Major let
Them drink! Oh, Major Plut was very wilful.
But he shall answer to the Czar, for he
Was in command. But I, Sir Chamberlain,
Will be your friend. A Russian proverb says,
‘Who loveth greatly, he, Sir Chamberlain,
Will stoutly fight.’ You are good at drinking-bout
And good at fighting out, but cease to vent
On Jägers your excesses.” Hearing this,
The Chamberlain his sabre straight upraised,
And through the Wozny proclamation made
Of general pardon; then he gave command
To look unto the wounded, clear the field
Of corpses, and the disarmed Jägers lead
Away as prisoners. Long they searched for Plut.
He, deeply buried in the nettles, lay
As lifeless; but at last came forth, when he
Became aware the battle all was done.
Such ending the last foray had in Litva.232
Book X
Emigration—Jacek
Council concerning the safety of the victors—Conventions with Rykow—Leave-takings—Important disclosure—Hope.
Those morning clouds, erst scattered like black birds,
Soaring in heaven’s highest region, now
Together gathered closer. Scarce the sun
Had from the south descended, than their flock
Had with a mighty cloud all heaven o’erspread.
The wind with ever greater swiftness drove them;
The cloud grew ever thicker, lower hung,
Till by one side half-severed from the sky,
Stooping towards the earth, and spread abroad
Like a great sail, all winds within itself
Gathering, it flew through heaven from south to west
Then came a while of silence, and the air
Stood dumb and silent, as though mute with fear;
The fields of corn, that first lay down on earth,
And shook again aloft their golden ears,
Like billows seething, now unmoving stood,
And gazed towards heaven, with upbristling straw;
And the green willows, and the poplars standing
Beside the ways, that first like women mourning
Beside an open grave, their foreheads smote
Upon the earth, their long arms flung abroad,
Dishevelled on the wind their silvery hair,
Now, as though lifeless, with mute mourning gaze,
They stand like images of Niobe.
Alone the trembling aspen shakes grey leaves.
The cattle, used to turn home leisurely,
Now ran tumultuous, nor their guardian wait,
Abandoning their pasture, home they fly.
The bull the earth upturneth with his hoof,
Ploughs with his horn, and terrifies the herd
With roar ill-boding; and the cow, who raised
Her large eyes only once unto the sky,
Her mouth in wonder opened wide, and drew
A deep sigh. And the hog behind did linger,
Dashed round, and gnashed his teeth, and from the corn
Abstracted portions, and them snatched as food.
The birds lay hidden in the woods, beneath
The thatch, and in deep places of the grass.
The rooks alone in troops surround the ponds,
And walk about with slow and solemn steps,
Turning their black eyes to the clouds as black,
Their tongues forth putting from their dry, wide throats,
And, spreading wide their wings, await their bath.
Last of the birds, unreachable in flight,
A daring swallow, like an arrow through
The dark cloud pierces, then like bullet falls.
The nobles in that very moment ended
That horrid battle with the Muscovites,
And sought for shelter in the house and barns.
They leave the field of battle, where full soon
The elements in battle join. Towards
The west, still golden, shone with gloomy gleam,
The earth, a yellow red. The cloud already
Its shades outspreading, like a net in form—
Did apprehend the remnants of the light,
And flew behind the sun, as though to seize him
Before the west. Some few storms whistled through
The air below, one after other flying,
And casting drops of rain, great, bright, and round,
As grain-like hail. The storm-winds suddenly
Grappled together, broke in twain; they struggled,
And whirled in whistling circles o’er the ponds,
Troubling their waters to their very depth.
They fell upon the meadows, whistling loud
Through osiers and through grass; the osier boughs
Asunder crack, and blades of grass fly wide
Upon the winds, like handfuls of torn hair,
Mixed with the ringlets of the corn-sheaves. Loud
The winds did howl, fell on the plain, contended,
Roared, tore up furrows; made an opening for
A third, which from the field itself up-tore
Like column from the dark earth, rose up, rolled
Round like a moving pyramid; its head
Deep burrowed in the ground, and from its feet
Cast sand in the stars’ eyes; at every step
It swelled out broadly, shot up tall aloft,
And blew a storm upon its mighty trumpet,
Till in this chaos of water and of dust,
Of straws, and leaves and branches, torn-up turf,
The storms upon the forest smote, and roared
Within its deepest wilderness like bears.
But now as from a sieve plashed down the rain,
Unceasing, in thick falling drops. And then
The thunders roared, the drops together ran.
Now like straight cords with tresses long they bind
The heavens to the earth. Now forth they burst,
As from a pail in watery strata. Now
Both heaven and earth are totally concealed;
Night darkens them, with storm more dark than night.
At times the horizon bursts from end to end,
And the storm-angel, like a mighty sun,
Unveils the lightnings of his countenance,
And, covered with a pall, retires again
In heaven, and shuts its doors with thunder noise.
Again the storm gains strength, tempestuous rain,
A heavy darkness, thick, nigh tangible;
Once more a stiller rain doth murmur, sleeps
The thunder for a moment; once more wakes,
It roareth loud, and waters plash, till all
Is peaceful. Only trees around the house
Rustled, and rain was softly murmuring.
On such a day, the fiercest storm was welcome;
Because the tempest, covering o’er the field
With twilight, deluged all the roads, and broke
The bridge that spanned the river; of the farm
A fortress inaccessible it made.
So that which happened in Soplica’s camp,
To-day no rumour through the neighbourhood
Could circulate; and at the present time
The nobles’ fate upon a secret hung.
Counsels of weight pend in the Judge’s room.
The
