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<p><head>Duma – Polacki by Niemcewicz <unclear>p48</unclear></head></p> | |||
'' | <p>Listen ye youthful warriors<lb/> | ||
To the sighs of my sorrowful Lute<lb/> | |||
And may the desire of glory awake in your breasts<lb/> | |||
At the remembrance of the deeds of you.</p> | |||
<p><del>Listen,</del> <add>I'll sing you </add> with what glorious wreath,<lb/> | |||
Fighting in the <del>cause</del> <add>defence</add> of his father-land<lb/> | |||
<del>Around his</del> A gallant youth crowned his temples<lb/> | |||
And <del>then</del> died a hero's death</p> | |||
<p>(Already) Podolia's fruitful fields<lb/> | |||
Were overrun by Chmielnicki's savage hordes<lb/> | |||
(Already), the laments of the mothers<lb/> | |||
Reechoe sadly <add>drearily</add> among the cliffs</p> | |||
<p>The ploughman left his plough and his <del>field <add>h </add></del> house<lb/> | |||
The maiden were carried into a shameful captivity<lb/> | |||
The shepherd would <del>rather</del> resign his herds and flocks<lb/> | |||
Not to abandon his love.</p> | |||
<p>It was Nikolas who was then <add>the</add> Chief<lb/> | |||
But he was aged, <del>full</del> had <add>reaped</add> enough happiness and fame<lb/> | |||
When the laments of the people, and the gory slaughter<lb/> | |||
Had reached his ear.</p> | |||
<p>He sighed – A<del>s sun bright</del> stream of tears<lb/> | |||
Rolled down on his venerable cheek<lb/> | |||
He thought on <del>his</del> the <add>happy</add> days of his youth that <add>have passed</add><lb/> | |||
And on his present torpid age.</p> | |||
<p>His was the will, but not the strength –<lb/> | |||
But while the falchion drops from father's feeble hand<lb/> | |||
The Son <unclear>a loner</unclear> for his old age<lb/> | |||
So ready to horse and to <add>the</add> sword.</p> | |||
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Duma – Polacki by Niemcewicz p48
Listen ye youthful warriors
To the sighs of my sorrowful Lute
And may the desire of glory awake in your breasts
At the remembrance of the deeds of you.
Listen, I'll sing you with what glorious wreath,
Fighting in the cause defence of his father-land
Around his A gallant youth crowned his temples
And then died a hero's death
(Already) Podolia's fruitful fields
Were overrun by Chmielnicki's savage hordes
(Already), the laments of the mothers
Reechoe sadly drearily among the cliffs
The ploughman left his plough and his field h house
The maiden were carried into a shameful captivity
The shepherd would rather resign his herds and flocks
Not to abandon his love.
It was Nikolas who was then the Chief
But he was aged, full had reaped enough happiness and fame
When the laments of the people, and the gory slaughter
Had reached his ear.
He sighed – As sun bright stream of tears
Rolled down on his venerable cheek
He thought on his the happy days of his youth that have passed
And on his present torpid age.
His was the will, but not the strength –
But while the falchion drops from father's feeble hand
The Son a loner for his old age
So ready to horse and to the sword.
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Identifier: | JB/110/093/001"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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001 |
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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