The school wherein I learn'd to ride!"

Quoth Charles “Old Hetman, wherefore so, 110 Since thou hast learn'd the art so well?"

Mazeppa said ""T were long to tell;
And we have many a league to go,
With every now and then a blow,
And ten to one at least the foe,
115 Before our steeds may graze at ease
Beyond the swift Borysthenes;

And, sire, your limbs have need of rest,
And I will be the sentinel

Of this your troop." "But I request,"

120 Said Sweden's monarch, "thou wilt tell
This tale of thine, and I may reap,
Perchance, from this the boon of sleep;
For at this moment from my eyes
The hope of present slumber flies."

66

125 Well, sire, with such a hope, I'll track My seventy years of memory back:

I think 't was in my twentieth spring,
Ay, 't was, when Casimir was king –
John Casimir, I was his page
130 Six summers, in my earlier age.
A learned monarch, faith! was he,
And most unlike your majesty :
He made no wars, and did not gain
New realms to lose them back again;
135 And (save debates in Warsaw's diet)
He reign'd in most unseemly quiet;
Not that he had no cares to vex,
He loved the muses and the sex;
And sometimes these so froward are,

140 They made him wish himself at war;

But soon his wrath being o'er, he took
Another mistress, or new book.
And then he gave prodigious fêtes
All Warsaw gather'd round his gates
145 To gaze upon his splendid court,
And dames, and chiefs, of princely port:
He was the Polish Solomon,

So sung his poets, all but one,

Who, being unpension'd, made a satire,
150 And boasted that he could not flatter.
It was a court of jousts and mimes,
Where every courtier tried at rhymes;
Even I for once produced some verses,
And sign'd my odes' Despairing Thyrsis.'
155 There was a certain Palatine,

A count of far and high descent,
Rich as a salt or silver mine;
And he was proud, ye may divine,

As if from heaven he had been sent.
160 He had such wealth in blood and ore
As few could match beneath the throne;
And he would gaze upon his store,
And o'er his pedigree would pore,
Until by some confusion led,

165 Which almost look'd like want of head, He thought their merits were his own. His wife was not of his opinion

170

His junior she by thirty years -
Grew daily tired of his dominion;
And, after wishes, hopes, and fears,
To virtue a few farewell tears,

A restless dream or two, some glances

At Warsaw's youth, some songs, and dances,

157. In Poland the salt mines were a great source of wealth.

Awaited but the usual chances, 175 (Those happy accidents which render The coldest dames so very tender,) To deck her Count with titles given, 'Tis said, as passports into heaven; But, strange to say, they rarely boast 180 Of these, who have deserved them most.

V.

"I was a goodly stripling then;
At seventy years I so may say,
That there were few, or boys or men,
Who, in my dawning time of day,
185 Of vassal or of knight's degree,
Could vie in vanities with me;
For I had strength, youth, gaiety,
A port, not like to this ye see,
But as smooth as all is rugged now;

190

For time, and care, and war, have plough'd My very soul from out my brow;

And thus I should be disavow'd By all my kind and kin, could they Compare my day and yesterday.

195 This change was wrought, too, long ere age Had ta'en my features for his page: With years, ye know, have not declined My strength, my courage, or my mind, Or at this hour I should not be 200 Telling old tales beneath a tree, With starless skies my canopy. But let me on: Theresa's form Methinks it glides before me now, Between me and yon chestnut's bough, 205 The memory is so quick and warm;

210

And yet I find no words to tell
The shape of her I loved so well.
She had the Asiatic eye,

Such as our Turkish neighbourhood,
Hath mingled with our Polish blood,
Dark as above us is the sky;

But through it stole a tender light,
Like the first moonrise of midnight;
Large, dark, and swimming in the stream,
215 Which seem'd to melt to its own beam;
All love, half languor, and half fire,
Like saints that at the stake expire,
And lift their raptured looks on high
As though it were a joy to die;
220 A brow like a midsummer lake,

Transparent with the sun therein,
When waves no murmur dare to make,
And heaven beholds her face within;
but why proceed?

A cheek and lip

225 I loved her then I love her still; And such as I am, love indeed

In fierce extremes

in good and ill;

But still we love even in our rage,

And haunted to our very age 230 With the vain shadow of the past, As is Mazeppa to the last.

VI.

"We met we gazed — I saw, and sigh'd,

She did not speak, and yet replied :

There are ten thousand tones and signs 235 We hear and see, but none defines

Involuntary sparks of thought,

Which strike from out the heart o'erwrought

And form a strange intelligence
Alike mysterious and intense,

240 Which link the burning chain that binds, Without their will, young hearts and minds: Conveying, as the electric wire,

We know not how, the absorbing fire. -
I saw, and sigh'd in silence wept,

245 And still reluctant distance kept,
Until I was made known to her,
And we might then and there confer
Without suspicion then, even then,
I long'd, and was resolved to speak;
250 But on my lips they died again,
The accents tremulous and weak,
Until one hour. There is a game,
A frivolous and foolish play,
Wherewith we while away the day;

255 It is

260

I have forgot the name
And we to this, it seems, were set,
By some strange chance, which I forget:
I reckon❜d not if I won or lost,

It was enough for me to be

So near to hear, and oh! to see

The being whom I loved the most.

I watch'd her as a sentinel,

(May ours this dark night watch as well!)

Until I saw, and thus it was,

265 That she was pensive, nor perceived
Her occupation, nor was grieved
Nor glad to lose or gain; but still
Play'd on for hours, as if her will
Yet bound her to the place, though not
270 That hers might be the winning lot.

Then through my brain the thought did

pass