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The young Polacki was long unwilling
To marr his years in sloth and ease
The grace with valour he united combined
And joy made him tremble at tale of war.
My son, adressed him the Chief with tears,
Thy country groans under a heavy calamity
Go – let thy breast be its shield
Be thou worth of thy ancestors and of thyself
Know, that on all occasion of Know that through all thy life
That thou art ought to liveing only for thy country
I shall happy descend into my tomb
When I have seen looked on you thee covered with glory
After this – he said his son farewell
But pushed pressed him first with tenderness to his body
Anon, The Stephen measures and fits his armour
And The blu raven ringlets of his hair
He Coveredy under with a golden helmet.
But before he placed himself, so adjusted at the head of his
He saw – amid in the midst of a train of fair maidens
HIs Love standing on high on a balcony
Young Elisabeth was young, true to love and glory
She was willing to offer her heart and hand
To the bravest in the battle
To whom love and glory was dear.
The gallant Stephen approached nigh
And bending his knees reverently before her
"O Thou!" sayd, he, whom I long adored,
I owe thee all the sweets of life my life
Identifier: | JB/110/093/002 "JB/" can not be assigned to a declared number type with value 110.
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110 |
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093 |
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002 |
duma - polacki by niemcewicz |
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collectanea |
4 |
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recto |
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sir john bowring |
ia 1820 |
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fr4 |
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1820 |
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36083 |
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