On earth without thee I am lost and lonely;
My thoughts are thine, I dream upon thee only;
Dream that in far eternities now hidden,
My soul with thine shall mingle unforbidden.
My thoughts are thine, I dream upon thee only;
Dream that in far eternities now hidden,
My soul with thine shall mingle unforbidden.
Poland - 1881 - Poets and Poetry of Poland
While they look'd, old John
Bent on his stick, and said " Look, maiden, on
Our village: -- doth it please thee? Wieslaw's cot
Is nigh at hand. " She heard, but answer'd not:
Her looks were fix'd upon one only spot; --
Her bosom heaved, her lips were dried, her eye
Spoke the deep reverie's intensity.
Remembrance of some joy had bound her soul:
She breathed not, but moved on; -- a cottage wall
Soon caught her eye, and near a cross appear'd:
'Twas ivy-clad and crumbling; -- for 'twas rear'd
In the old time;-- a willow- tree, a sod,
Where the gay children of the village trod
On holidays, were there. She could no more:
She dropp'd o'erpowered upon the grassy floor,
And cried, " O God! O God! -- 'twas here, 'twas here
I lived! Where is my mother? Tell me, where?
If she be dead, I'll seek her grave, and weep
My orphan soul away to rouse from sleep
Her blessed form. -- 'Twas here I play'd of old; --
'Twas here I gather'd flowers: -- but I behold
My mother's cot no longer, -- thought flies o'er
Its memory; -- but that cot exists no more! "
John answer'd thus: " The God who shelter'd thee,
Shelter'd thy parents; -- when the misery
Of that fierce war was over, they return'd,
And joy beam'd o'er the fields where they had mourn'd.
They lost their cot, they lost their child ; but Heaven
Their dwelling and their daughter now hath given;
And they shall take thee to their longing arms.
Thank God, who saved thee from all hurts and harms,
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? 256 POETS AND POETRY OF POLAND.
Who, when thy helplessness had lost a mother
Gave thee with generous tenderness another,
And now restores thee to thine own. " She knelt,
And clasp'd his knees, while luxury's tear-drops melt
Into the light of joy. And one by one
They enter'd the court-yard; but all were gone
Forth to the fruitful fields. Halina's eye
Wander'd some old memorials to descry,
And grew impatient. Soon the sire appears
With his sharp scythe; and next his wife, who bears
A truss of clover for the stall. Before
Ran young Bronika, gaily turning o'er
A basket of blue corn-flowers; with her hand
Beckoning, she bid her parents understand
That guests were come. " Go," said old John, " my boy,
And tell your happy parents all your joy. "
And what fond welcome sprung from breast to breast;
How oft they kiss'd each other ; how they prest
Bosom to bosom, heart to heart; what greeting,
What questions, answers, thanks, engaged that meeting;
And how the laughing neighbors gather'd round,
And how Bronika, full of rapture, bound
Her sister to her soul, -- for though she ne'er
Had known her loss, her gain she felt, -- I fear
No words of mine can compass. Could I speak,
Your hearts in sympathy would almost break
With the bright joy: -- but ye have souls to feel,
And they will vibrate to love's proud appeal.
Yes ! ye have hearts, with which ye may confer,
And they shall be my best interpreter.
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? KRASIN? SKI. 257
KRASIN? SKI.
Sigismund Krasin? ski is the zenith of Polish poetry
in Poland's land. It is not only a loving heart, an in-
spired soul, not only a fantasy or art -- it is the spirit
of the Pole -- the spirit of true manhood; yes, it is the
spirit of poetry changed into the spirit of an 'angel and
entered into the soul of the inspired poet-prophet.
While writing he thought of ages, and ages alone can
judge him. The most prominent stamp of Sigismund's
writings, distinguishing him from other poets contem-
poraneous with him, is the true prophetic spirit, not
under the influence of any play or fantasy, or any com-
bination, but the expression of apocalyptic visions;
hence he is an uncommon phenomenon not only with
us but in the history of the universal spirit. He pos-
sesses such qualities and gifts as God seldom grants
even to poets. From the times of antiquity he took
what Plato had. Prom the law of Moses and the
Jewish history he took the harp of David. From the
new law he took the apocalyptic visions of the future.
With such strange elements, living in the midst of
Europe, amidst our people, and in the middle of the
nineteenth century, he transformed all these into orig-
inal poetic creations. Krasin? ski was second after
Mickiewicz who restored the high poetic type of the
poetic priesthood in literature where frequently are
found thoughtless leaders, carrying with them the
doubting and feverish community into the regions of
chimera, bad examples and deceitful prophecies. It
was he who took those who leaned toward egotism,
17
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? 258 POETS AND POETEY OF POLAND.
plunging about in the evanescent pleasures of reality,
and carried them into the beautiful world of love and
self-sacrifice. " The Un divine Comedy " is, as it were,
a thunderbolt sent to crush the doctrine of egotism
and human pride, which renounces allegiance and obe-
dience to God. The time, place and persons of the
comedy are all created by the buoyant imagination of
the poet. This fantastic comedy occasionally breaks
off and snatches at moments which are expected but
have not yet arrived. Krasin? ski was the first who
ventured to compose a prophetic drama to represent
persons and incidents that were to come to pass at
some future time. The scenes, however, are enacted
in Poland, and the time is not very far distant from us,
because persons there introduced speak as we do, have
our prejudices and our customs; we can recognize
them as belonging to our generation and to the Polish
people, although the author does not stamp them with
any nationality, neither does he introduce anything
indicating locality. Krasin? ski comprehended and
grappled the current of stormy conceptions which, in
but a few years later, ran through the whole of Eu-
rope, and in which were found phases and figures
drawn by the hand of the immortal poet. This re-
markable production, planned on the broad back-
ground of modern social times, takes the point of argu-
ment that the causes of evil arise from social perverse-
ness which permeates the different grades of society,
and from which humanity is yet to suffer for a long
time; and that the possible union of so many contra-
dictory elements can only be effected by the influences
of Christianity.
The soaring imagination of Krasin? ski had at its call
beautiful and brilliant language, breaking out in new
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? KRASIN? SKI. 259
turns and harmonious words. His christian feeling
was very pure and deep. The poet loves the whole of
humanity, and he reminds them of the holy truths of
faith, and that the world can only be regenerated by
love.
The " Day-Break" is an ethereal lyric composition
replete with transcendent beauties. A woman (Beat-
rice) is introduced in the poem to quicken into life the
whole creation of exalted order, and above all the in-
dividuality of the poet. There beams the pure and
powerful inspiration of truth, which spreads its thou-
sand poetic colors as the morning star of the day which
the poet represents to his people. "The Dream of
Cesara " is classed with prophetic writings, and is not
indispensably a poetic creation, but rather a descrip-
tion of the poet's vision, yet it is plainly seen that it
bears the stamp of truthfulness and can claim preemi-
nence over all writings of that class.
"Irydion" is a magnificent poem representing
olden times, when Rome was in its decline -- its great
power being undermined by the light of Christianity.
The incidents are drawn from the epoch of Helio-
gabalus, and the persecutions of the first Christians.
The author tries to work out the idea that Christianity
neither accepts nor condemns feelings of national re-
venge for intentionally inflicted wrongs. In his
"Psalms" the author explains to the world the mys-
teries of resurrection. He reveals his beautiful,
though perhaps illusive, dreams of the destiny of his
suffering Fatherland; he praises heroism and volun-
tary devotedness and self-sacrifice. Here we can im-
agine that he anticipated the sad events which took
place in Galicia in 1846 (see Ujejski' s biography).
"The Unfinished Poem" is connected with "Undi'
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? 260 POETS AND POETRY OF POLAND.
vine Comedy," and, according to the plan' of the au-
thor, was to constitute the first part of the trilogy, of
which only the second part was elaborated. This
poem consists of five grand episodes, which are not
connected with one another very closely, but yet are
put together so as to form a sufficiently prominent
whole, and, although unfinished, it is nevertheless
replete with resplendent imagery and sublime thoughts,
shining forth with unequaled hue of style. The princi-
pal purpose of the poem is to show the tendency of
humanity toward truth and perfection, and the unceas-
ing attempts and conspiracies against the power of
truth and the spirit of God in this world.
u The Present Day " is a fantastic expose of society
going astray from the true path, but warned and en-
lightened by the words of the angel from ^Heaven.
The poem, being a creation of youthful imagination, is
an historical' romance, yet having the color of the sub-
limest poesy.
"Agaj Han" is taken from the history of Marina
Mnich, and Demitry the pretender. Although there
is much poetic fire in the poem, yet it is pronounced
by the critics as occasionally offending with exaggera-
tion.
Krasin? ski was one of the greatest moral philoso-
phers of the nineteenth century, as well as the most
inspired poet, whose prophetic vision comprehends not
only the past and future ages, but also the present
century. He is clearly a poet of humanity, who wholly
understood all the relations of society; he was more
than others; it is perhaps for that reason that he has
invented a language of his own to express pain and
inspiration which he saw in the sufferings of humanity.
The power of Krasinski's poetic genius is so immense
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? KRASIN? SKI. 261
that we have no scale in our literature to weigh it.
The characteristics of his poetry are deep religious
feelings; they in reality constitute the background of
the manner in which he viewed the past and the future;
the suiferings of a people as well as of individuals he
considered as mediums through which come cleansing
and merit.
Krasin? ski was a stately and ethereal form of a
recluse, or an anchorite, doing penance for the trans-
gression of his ancestors, blessing the people, teaching
them, and showing unto them signs for the future.
Plunging into prayerful spirit, and looking toward the
stars, he viewed the earth not with the eye of a man,
but with the one of an inspired prophet. Pleasures
and amusements of this world had no charms for him.
Having passed through purgatory of life, he was free
from the prejudices of his people; but after deep and
silent suffering, which was plainly seen on his marble
face, he tried to conceal from the human eye the many
wounds from which he so intensely suffered that he
often threw a veil of mystery over himself, desiring
only to appear to the people as their brother mortal,
who was at all times burning offerings at the altar of
his country, and held in his heart her sufferings and
her hopes. He was indeed a guardian angel of the
national spirit, and a physician of hearts torn to pieces
by misfortune and sufferings, and he poured upon the
wounds of the Polish national body the balm of faith,
love, and hope.
Krasin? ski was born on the 19th of February, 1812,
of a rich and influential family. His father, Yincent,
was aide-de-camp to. Napoleon the Great, and after-
ward the general of the Polish army. Up to the thir-
teenth year of his life Sigismund's cultivation was
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? 262 POETS AND POETRY OF POLAND.
under the immediate supervision of his parents, and
under the guidance of the poet Joseph Korzeniowski,
and other distinguished teachers. In 1825 he entered
the Lyceum at Warsaw, where Linde, the lexicographer,
was the rector. Even at that early period of his life
he wrote a composition, "The Grave of Reichstall's
Family," from which it was inferred that he possessed
a natural inclination for dramatic imagery; then he
wrote " Ladislas Herman, "in imitaton of Walter Scott's
style. In this very fine romance he painted the Past
in a truly masterly manner. From the Lyceum he
went to the University; but on account of certain
unpleasant circumstances he thought it best to quit it.
He went then to Geneva, in Switzerland, where he
wrote his " Black Zawisza," but it was lost in its trans-
mission to Warsaw. It was there that he became per-
sonally acquainted with Mickiewicz and Odyniec, two
Polish poets, and in their company visited the moun-
tains of Switzerland. In 1830 he again met Adam
Mickiewicz at Rome. In 1832 he was compelled to
answer personally a call at Warsaw, although his state
of health could hardly permit of so long a journey.
From Warsaw he was sent to St. Petersburg, where he
was kept all winter, although very ill. He was suffer-
ing so badly from a disease of the eyes that they at
last permitted him to go to Graifenberg, from whence,
after getting quite well, he went to Vienna. Here he
wrote " Agaj-Han," and had it published at Breslau.
He left Vienna in 1836 and went to Italy and Rome;
here he became acquainted with Julius S? owacki, and
wrote "Irydion. " In 1838 he went to Warsaw, but on
account of illness was again obliged to return to Italy.
In 1843 he was married to Countess Elizabeth Branicka
at Dresden, whence they visited the places of their
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? KRASIN? SKI. 263
birth, and then again went to Warsaw. In 1845 he
went to Xice, where he wrote one of the most beautiful
poems, '* The Psalms," in consequence of which a con-
troversy ensued between himself and the poet S'owacki.
In 1847 he once more visited Rome, and there again
met Mickiewicz. In the following year he resided at
Heidelberg, Paris, and Baden, when he again was
called to Warsaw in 1849; but the eye disease coming
upon him with greater severity than ever, he once
more, with the permission of the Government, returned
to Heidelberg, and then to Baden. Toward the last of
that year he was very assiduously occupied with the
antiquities dug out by the Appian Way, and the follow-
ing year he spent some time on the picturesque banks
of the river Rhine, from whence for the third time he
was ordered by the Government to return to Warsaw.
When his health began to fail and the eye disease
grew worse, he went once more to Heidelberg, and on
the death of Czar Nicholas, having received a permis-
sion to reside in foreign countries, he stopped at Baden,
and in 1856 at Kissingen. Later he journeyed to
Paris, and from there visited his father at Potok; but
soon after he went to Plombieres and Ems to try the
water-cure. In the same year he returned to Paris;
there he learned of the death of his father, which had
so great an effect upon him that he fell hopelessly ill,
and died on the 14th of February, 1859.
Krasinski's works were published at Warsaw, Paris,
Breslau, Leszno, Leipsic, and Posen.
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? 264 POETS AND POETKY OF POLAND.
PRAY FOR ME.
Pray for me -- when I mourn in sore depression
Sins of my fathers, and my own transgression;
Pray for me that when death at last shall doom me,
Regrets for thee arise not to consume me.
Pray for me -- that when with my God in Heaven,
After long ages passed, it shall be given
My weary soul to rest with thee forever,
For here much sorrow mars its high endeavor.
Pray for me -- vain my life if, worst of changes,
Thy heart grown cold from mine itself estranges;
Oh, pray for me, for I through years have treasured
Thy name with love unfathomed and unmeasured.
Pray for me -- for my life is dry and scentless,
My heart is faithful though my fate relentless;
Pray for me -- let thy words breathe healing thro' me,
Though thou canst only be a sister to me.
Pray for me -- other prayers are unavailing,
Thine only calm my heart in its bewailing;
All other prayers save thine the pang would double;
Pray for me -- for I cling to thee in trouble.
On earth without thee I am lost and lonely;
My thoughts are thine, I dream upon thee only;
Dream that in far eternities now hidden,
My soul with thine shall mingle unforbidden.
EVER AND EVERYWHERE.
Say not of me when I am in my grave,
I only wounded where I should forbear;
'Twas that I drank from sorrow's bitter wave,
Ever and everywhere.
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? KRASIN? SKI. 265
Say not of me calm-voiced when I am gone
That I have marred your life that else was fair;
I walked with sunshine from my own withdrawn,
Ever and everywhere.
Say not of me as colder hearts would sa}'
When I am dead, that life had proved a snare
Because misfortune followed on my way,
Ever and everywhere.
When I am gone, then kindly speak of me,
Say that my heart was frenzied by despair;
I loved thee from my soul, if bitterly,
Ever and everywhere.
TO A LADY.
Hearts you may lure to you with ardent glances,
Or crush beneath unsympathetic swa}^;
Yet will you fall below the fair ideal
Of womanhood, for which we wait and pray.
Eyes downward cast, and cheek whose roseate glowing
Tells not of knowledge, are to-day as nought ;
Attain to womanhood through slow ascension,
Through scenes of sorrow rise to heights of thought.
And when through tears and pains of aspiration
A ray of Deity outflowing warm
Shall touch your soul with its living splendor,
And buds that blossom in the day of storm
Unfold to crown your pale and thoughtful forehead,
Then will your beauty take ideal form.
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? 266 POETS AND POETRY OF POLAND.
ONCE I ASKED THE DAY.
(Never before included in Krasinski's Collections. )
Once I asked the day why it was so bright,
I asked the thought why it soared so free,
And the heart why the world should so narrow be,
And the stars why they shone with such lustrous light.
I am son of the sun, replied Day, so am bright;
Being children of spirit, Thought answered, we soar;
The world is narrow, said Heart, since perverse evermore;
We shine, the Stars answered, as the great King of light.
I asked a gentle maiden's beaming eyes
Whence came such marvelous outlines of her face,
And whence to her soul such beauty and such grace,
Whence the rays of light and fires of feeling rise.
No word she spoke -- her beauteous face alone
With the expression of her sweet spirit shone,
Her eyes' light touched her face with crimson rays,
And played in her feelings; pure spring displays
The sunlight in depths of the clear summer rill,
We can only solve feelings with feelings still,
And the works of God with the Heaven-sent mind;
But if 'tis not understood by humankind,
Oh, do not their dull comprehension resent.
The world should never chill your feeling from Heaven sent;
Let not earthiness a shade on thy soul's glory cast.
And when my sad star has removed me far from thee,
Remember it to thee could never permitted be.
By mem'ry of the dear hours we have together passed,
And by the memory of all feeling most divine,
Of all my inspirations holiest and most bright.
To cast aside the rays of radiant, sacred light,
Which even in the lowliest grave will o'er me shine
As it shone in the glad morning of my life's fair day,
On the threshold of eternity 'twill shed its ray;
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? KRASIN? SKI. 267
And though on the earth it parts us with stern behest,
'Twill surely in God once more unite us, ever blessed!
RESURECTURIS.
The world's a graveyard, kneaded with tears and gore,
Where none his Golgotha avoids. Evermore --
Vain is the spirit's strife
When sorrow's shaft descends;
Against the storms of life
No refuge here defends.
Abysses dark ingulf the brave,
At every step fate mocks at us,
The pure, the loved, sink in the grave,
The hated live, -- 'tis ever thus.
All is tangling in a maze which naught divines,
And death is near and far away:
O'er waves of future ages shines
Resurrection's Day.
Heartless and insensible, then, must we be,
Murder with murderers setting passion free,
'Mid the vile grow viler, and though conscience yearn,
Make it's soft voice be still,
Lie, hate, blaspheme, and kill,
And evil for evil to this world return.
In this alone must all our power consist; --
Let us eat and drink, and sate the body well,
Chasing from the brain each noble thought, and swell
Of fortunate and fools the length'ning list.
Oh ! no, that must not be.
Oh! pause, my soul, for we
Can never in that way
At humanity's head
Stand. No force can hold at bay
But sacrifice the dread
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? 268 POETS AND POETRY OF POLAND.
And unrelenting fate
That crushes us to naught.
That is the lion great
Of history ; -- all pride
And servility are;
But idle straws that caught
By passing breath may glide
To nothingness afar.
Oh! learn thyself to know;
Seek not omnipotent,
Like Him in heaven, to grow,
And to bend thee like a brute, ne'er give consent,
Knowing no good save some fat pasture-land on
This side the tomb; e'er breaks the radiant dawn
Of Resurrection. Oh! be thou constant still,
Though worlds should crash unmoved with dauntless will.
Be tireless. Patience, which 'mid every ill
Slowly rears from naught the edifice complete,
And which e'er prepares, unshaken by defeat,
The future, certain, and final victory.
Oh ! amid the storm be thou tranquillity,
Order in chaos, in discord harmony;
Amid this life's combat, that no respite hath,
Be thou the eternal Beauty, calm and bright.
For cowards and for Pharisees be wrath,
And menace or silent contempt, pure as light,
Angelic inspiration for all men be.
The rich nourishment that nourishes the heart,
A sister's tear when suffering thou dost see,
A manly voice when courage, long tried, forsakes,
Home, birthplace, wandering exiles find in thee.
Be hope for the despairing, -- thunder that wakes
The drowsy souls lulled in corpse-like repose.
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? KEASIN? SKI. 269
Be thou the force, always and everywhere,
That reconciles, -- force of self, -- devotion rare,
Stronger than death, and in the strife that no end knows, --
Against the mad world's abyss of hate, Oh! be
Abyss of love, pure and free.
Ne'er cease to give
Thyself unto thy brethren in form sublime
Of teaching and example; in acts that live
Still multiply thyself; thus for all time
Thousands of men shall be outweighed by thee.
Even in irons performing acts that bless,
Learn to bear pain and bitterest agony;
Thy whole nation living in thy breast shall be, --
Be the miracle joins heaven to earth, -- naught less, -- '
In slavery, -- holiness.
Seek not death till, like the buried seed that starts,
Thy grand thoughts be sown and germing in the hearts
Of thy compatriots, -- till martyrdom alone
A pledge of certain victory shall be known.
Strive not with others' goodness, but thine own,
Shun martyrdom's renown,
And false vain-glory's crown
Leave to fools; for in this,
Danger's dreadful abyss,
Plunge only heroes brave.
Loftiest souls ne'er gave
Heed to siren's voice of bliss.
When the tocsin of events at last shall swell, --
Signal for thy final holocaust, -- a knell
Both sad and wild, from thy native land, then
Kneel down on eternity's threshold; -- When,
So deep within thy humble and contrite soul,
Thou hear'st the voice that only comes from God above,
Rise, like a strong athlete who wins the goal.
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? 270 POETS AND POETEY OF POLAND.
Shake off thy feet earth's dust. With infinite love
? Stretch forth thy arms to Heaven, which still will bless.
Without complaint, wail, inward bitterness,
Bravely to meet thy executioners advance,
Saluting them with inmost pitying glance
Of high immortality, which glorifies.
Thus for the future thy sacrifice shall be"
The most fruitful witness. From thy death shall rise
The germ of life, for all men glorious, free.
The hopes the world deems idle dreams,
Oh! make them real, --
In justice, faith, --
To see and feel;
Which, like a probe that deeply darts,
Sink in men's hearts,
And dwell forever there.
Be its touch light as air,
A breath, a sigh's soft thrill.
The world, thy murderer, will
Kneel to thee in remorse,
Confessing brutal force;
Is impotent to strike
Country and God alike
From the conscience and care
Of nations everywhere.
When the blood which thy wounds shall spill
Sanctifies thy thought, that thought will
Draw the light of God's judgment strong
On the impious throng.
Troops and bayonets are vain,
Kings, lies, corruption, -- aught;
No people shall attain
Power against that thought.
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? KRASIN? SKI. 271
When the third day shall dawn
O'er thy agony, on
Thy martyrdom's white tomb, --
At last the boon shall bloom
For nations, -- undefiled-
Justice, -- God's own fair child.
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? S? OWACKTS MONUMENT IN PARIS (FRANCE).
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? S? OWAUK? 273
S? OWACKI.
Julius SIowacki tried liis strength at all kinds of
poetry. There are beautiful lyrics of his; others again
are epics, and also dramas. In each and every one of
these his creative mind shines with a resplendent lus-
ter. Everywhere he is new, fresh, and poetic; always
exhibiting extraordinary strength, always soaring high.
For a long time S? owacki was not understood, al-
though he was a poet belonging to all humanity; but
some of his poems were not understood, and others did
not come into general use. Almost thirty years had
elapsed before the people could look into them and
fully comprehend them. But as everything of the
highest order will ultimately find its vindication with
the people, so it was with Slowacki's writings; they at
last found their deserved acknowledgment and justifi-
cation.
Of all the poets from Krasicki to Krasin? ski, no one
possessed greater power of fantasy than S? owacki.
This was shown in a volume of poems written at the
time of the Polish Revolution (1831), and since its fall.
Another poem, "Zmija" (the Yiper), is also a fan-
tastic production. But there is much higher and truer
poetic merit in his "John Bielecki. " The subject is
taken from the Polish Chronicles, partly oral, of a cer-
tain occurrence having taken place in eastern Galicia.
Here the portraitures of the Polish nobility are strik-
ing, and scattered throughout the poem very happily,
showing the greatest force, and with it the character-
istics of his own individuality as a man of uncommon
genius. " The father of the stricken with the plague,"
18
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? 274 POETS AND POETEY OF POLAND.
in El-Arish, contains in it a power likening to the suf-
fering of the Laocoon not carved in wood nor chiseled
in marble, but in the painting of poetic genius.
Among all the creations of S? owacki, nor in the whole
Polish literature, is there anything that could equal it
in finish, conciseness, power and truth, and finally the
incomparable mastery in the diversification of the par-
ticulars of this awe-inspiring poem. What the statue
of Laocoon or the groups of Mobe is in sculpture,
"The father of the plague-stricken" is in S? owacki's
poetry. If it concerned the vivid representation of
accumulated strokes of misfortune heaping thunder-,
bolts upon the head of a doomed human being, weep-
ing till its tears are dry, and moaning under the weight
of misery until the last vestige of human feeling is
gone; when it becomes a lifeless statue, unable to
weep or feel more -- to reflect over its unutterable mis-
ery -- then surely Slowacki's design is fully accom-
plished.
Then comes "Hugo," tales of the Crusades, fol-
lowed by "Balladyna," and "Lilla Weneda. " The
first one a beautiful epopee, not exactly in the Ho-
meric style, but somewhat in the manner of Ariosto;
prehistoric account of Poland is the subject. "In
Switzerland " is a charming idyllic intermixed with
tragic incidents, so abstruse and yet so truthful that it
is not possible to find any such love-dream in any for-
eign tongue. Truth a*nd fiction, reality and poetry,
man's love and genius of the artist, all here strike
hands to produce a poetic creation, and one knows not
which to admire the most. In "Wac? aw" is a full
confession of beautiful motives, such as are seldom to
be found. This poem is equal to any of Lord Byron's
in the masterly carving out of each particular. "The
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? S?
Bent on his stick, and said " Look, maiden, on
Our village: -- doth it please thee? Wieslaw's cot
Is nigh at hand. " She heard, but answer'd not:
Her looks were fix'd upon one only spot; --
Her bosom heaved, her lips were dried, her eye
Spoke the deep reverie's intensity.
Remembrance of some joy had bound her soul:
She breathed not, but moved on; -- a cottage wall
Soon caught her eye, and near a cross appear'd:
'Twas ivy-clad and crumbling; -- for 'twas rear'd
In the old time;-- a willow- tree, a sod,
Where the gay children of the village trod
On holidays, were there. She could no more:
She dropp'd o'erpowered upon the grassy floor,
And cried, " O God! O God! -- 'twas here, 'twas here
I lived! Where is my mother? Tell me, where?
If she be dead, I'll seek her grave, and weep
My orphan soul away to rouse from sleep
Her blessed form. -- 'Twas here I play'd of old; --
'Twas here I gather'd flowers: -- but I behold
My mother's cot no longer, -- thought flies o'er
Its memory; -- but that cot exists no more! "
John answer'd thus: " The God who shelter'd thee,
Shelter'd thy parents; -- when the misery
Of that fierce war was over, they return'd,
And joy beam'd o'er the fields where they had mourn'd.
They lost their cot, they lost their child ; but Heaven
Their dwelling and their daughter now hath given;
And they shall take thee to their longing arms.
Thank God, who saved thee from all hurts and harms,
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? 256 POETS AND POETRY OF POLAND.
Who, when thy helplessness had lost a mother
Gave thee with generous tenderness another,
And now restores thee to thine own. " She knelt,
And clasp'd his knees, while luxury's tear-drops melt
Into the light of joy. And one by one
They enter'd the court-yard; but all were gone
Forth to the fruitful fields. Halina's eye
Wander'd some old memorials to descry,
And grew impatient. Soon the sire appears
With his sharp scythe; and next his wife, who bears
A truss of clover for the stall. Before
Ran young Bronika, gaily turning o'er
A basket of blue corn-flowers; with her hand
Beckoning, she bid her parents understand
That guests were come. " Go," said old John, " my boy,
And tell your happy parents all your joy. "
And what fond welcome sprung from breast to breast;
How oft they kiss'd each other ; how they prest
Bosom to bosom, heart to heart; what greeting,
What questions, answers, thanks, engaged that meeting;
And how the laughing neighbors gather'd round,
And how Bronika, full of rapture, bound
Her sister to her soul, -- for though she ne'er
Had known her loss, her gain she felt, -- I fear
No words of mine can compass. Could I speak,
Your hearts in sympathy would almost break
With the bright joy: -- but ye have souls to feel,
And they will vibrate to love's proud appeal.
Yes ! ye have hearts, with which ye may confer,
And they shall be my best interpreter.
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? KRASIN? SKI. 257
KRASIN? SKI.
Sigismund Krasin? ski is the zenith of Polish poetry
in Poland's land. It is not only a loving heart, an in-
spired soul, not only a fantasy or art -- it is the spirit
of the Pole -- the spirit of true manhood; yes, it is the
spirit of poetry changed into the spirit of an 'angel and
entered into the soul of the inspired poet-prophet.
While writing he thought of ages, and ages alone can
judge him. The most prominent stamp of Sigismund's
writings, distinguishing him from other poets contem-
poraneous with him, is the true prophetic spirit, not
under the influence of any play or fantasy, or any com-
bination, but the expression of apocalyptic visions;
hence he is an uncommon phenomenon not only with
us but in the history of the universal spirit. He pos-
sesses such qualities and gifts as God seldom grants
even to poets. From the times of antiquity he took
what Plato had. Prom the law of Moses and the
Jewish history he took the harp of David. From the
new law he took the apocalyptic visions of the future.
With such strange elements, living in the midst of
Europe, amidst our people, and in the middle of the
nineteenth century, he transformed all these into orig-
inal poetic creations. Krasin? ski was second after
Mickiewicz who restored the high poetic type of the
poetic priesthood in literature where frequently are
found thoughtless leaders, carrying with them the
doubting and feverish community into the regions of
chimera, bad examples and deceitful prophecies. It
was he who took those who leaned toward egotism,
17
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? 258 POETS AND POETEY OF POLAND.
plunging about in the evanescent pleasures of reality,
and carried them into the beautiful world of love and
self-sacrifice. " The Un divine Comedy " is, as it were,
a thunderbolt sent to crush the doctrine of egotism
and human pride, which renounces allegiance and obe-
dience to God. The time, place and persons of the
comedy are all created by the buoyant imagination of
the poet. This fantastic comedy occasionally breaks
off and snatches at moments which are expected but
have not yet arrived. Krasin? ski was the first who
ventured to compose a prophetic drama to represent
persons and incidents that were to come to pass at
some future time. The scenes, however, are enacted
in Poland, and the time is not very far distant from us,
because persons there introduced speak as we do, have
our prejudices and our customs; we can recognize
them as belonging to our generation and to the Polish
people, although the author does not stamp them with
any nationality, neither does he introduce anything
indicating locality. Krasin? ski comprehended and
grappled the current of stormy conceptions which, in
but a few years later, ran through the whole of Eu-
rope, and in which were found phases and figures
drawn by the hand of the immortal poet. This re-
markable production, planned on the broad back-
ground of modern social times, takes the point of argu-
ment that the causes of evil arise from social perverse-
ness which permeates the different grades of society,
and from which humanity is yet to suffer for a long
time; and that the possible union of so many contra-
dictory elements can only be effected by the influences
of Christianity.
The soaring imagination of Krasin? ski had at its call
beautiful and brilliant language, breaking out in new
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? KRASIN? SKI. 259
turns and harmonious words. His christian feeling
was very pure and deep. The poet loves the whole of
humanity, and he reminds them of the holy truths of
faith, and that the world can only be regenerated by
love.
The " Day-Break" is an ethereal lyric composition
replete with transcendent beauties. A woman (Beat-
rice) is introduced in the poem to quicken into life the
whole creation of exalted order, and above all the in-
dividuality of the poet. There beams the pure and
powerful inspiration of truth, which spreads its thou-
sand poetic colors as the morning star of the day which
the poet represents to his people. "The Dream of
Cesara " is classed with prophetic writings, and is not
indispensably a poetic creation, but rather a descrip-
tion of the poet's vision, yet it is plainly seen that it
bears the stamp of truthfulness and can claim preemi-
nence over all writings of that class.
"Irydion" is a magnificent poem representing
olden times, when Rome was in its decline -- its great
power being undermined by the light of Christianity.
The incidents are drawn from the epoch of Helio-
gabalus, and the persecutions of the first Christians.
The author tries to work out the idea that Christianity
neither accepts nor condemns feelings of national re-
venge for intentionally inflicted wrongs. In his
"Psalms" the author explains to the world the mys-
teries of resurrection. He reveals his beautiful,
though perhaps illusive, dreams of the destiny of his
suffering Fatherland; he praises heroism and volun-
tary devotedness and self-sacrifice. Here we can im-
agine that he anticipated the sad events which took
place in Galicia in 1846 (see Ujejski' s biography).
"The Unfinished Poem" is connected with "Undi'
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? 260 POETS AND POETRY OF POLAND.
vine Comedy," and, according to the plan' of the au-
thor, was to constitute the first part of the trilogy, of
which only the second part was elaborated. This
poem consists of five grand episodes, which are not
connected with one another very closely, but yet are
put together so as to form a sufficiently prominent
whole, and, although unfinished, it is nevertheless
replete with resplendent imagery and sublime thoughts,
shining forth with unequaled hue of style. The princi-
pal purpose of the poem is to show the tendency of
humanity toward truth and perfection, and the unceas-
ing attempts and conspiracies against the power of
truth and the spirit of God in this world.
u The Present Day " is a fantastic expose of society
going astray from the true path, but warned and en-
lightened by the words of the angel from ^Heaven.
The poem, being a creation of youthful imagination, is
an historical' romance, yet having the color of the sub-
limest poesy.
"Agaj Han" is taken from the history of Marina
Mnich, and Demitry the pretender. Although there
is much poetic fire in the poem, yet it is pronounced
by the critics as occasionally offending with exaggera-
tion.
Krasin? ski was one of the greatest moral philoso-
phers of the nineteenth century, as well as the most
inspired poet, whose prophetic vision comprehends not
only the past and future ages, but also the present
century. He is clearly a poet of humanity, who wholly
understood all the relations of society; he was more
than others; it is perhaps for that reason that he has
invented a language of his own to express pain and
inspiration which he saw in the sufferings of humanity.
The power of Krasinski's poetic genius is so immense
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? KRASIN? SKI. 261
that we have no scale in our literature to weigh it.
The characteristics of his poetry are deep religious
feelings; they in reality constitute the background of
the manner in which he viewed the past and the future;
the suiferings of a people as well as of individuals he
considered as mediums through which come cleansing
and merit.
Krasin? ski was a stately and ethereal form of a
recluse, or an anchorite, doing penance for the trans-
gression of his ancestors, blessing the people, teaching
them, and showing unto them signs for the future.
Plunging into prayerful spirit, and looking toward the
stars, he viewed the earth not with the eye of a man,
but with the one of an inspired prophet. Pleasures
and amusements of this world had no charms for him.
Having passed through purgatory of life, he was free
from the prejudices of his people; but after deep and
silent suffering, which was plainly seen on his marble
face, he tried to conceal from the human eye the many
wounds from which he so intensely suffered that he
often threw a veil of mystery over himself, desiring
only to appear to the people as their brother mortal,
who was at all times burning offerings at the altar of
his country, and held in his heart her sufferings and
her hopes. He was indeed a guardian angel of the
national spirit, and a physician of hearts torn to pieces
by misfortune and sufferings, and he poured upon the
wounds of the Polish national body the balm of faith,
love, and hope.
Krasin? ski was born on the 19th of February, 1812,
of a rich and influential family. His father, Yincent,
was aide-de-camp to. Napoleon the Great, and after-
ward the general of the Polish army. Up to the thir-
teenth year of his life Sigismund's cultivation was
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? 262 POETS AND POETRY OF POLAND.
under the immediate supervision of his parents, and
under the guidance of the poet Joseph Korzeniowski,
and other distinguished teachers. In 1825 he entered
the Lyceum at Warsaw, where Linde, the lexicographer,
was the rector. Even at that early period of his life
he wrote a composition, "The Grave of Reichstall's
Family," from which it was inferred that he possessed
a natural inclination for dramatic imagery; then he
wrote " Ladislas Herman, "in imitaton of Walter Scott's
style. In this very fine romance he painted the Past
in a truly masterly manner. From the Lyceum he
went to the University; but on account of certain
unpleasant circumstances he thought it best to quit it.
He went then to Geneva, in Switzerland, where he
wrote his " Black Zawisza," but it was lost in its trans-
mission to Warsaw. It was there that he became per-
sonally acquainted with Mickiewicz and Odyniec, two
Polish poets, and in their company visited the moun-
tains of Switzerland. In 1830 he again met Adam
Mickiewicz at Rome. In 1832 he was compelled to
answer personally a call at Warsaw, although his state
of health could hardly permit of so long a journey.
From Warsaw he was sent to St. Petersburg, where he
was kept all winter, although very ill. He was suffer-
ing so badly from a disease of the eyes that they at
last permitted him to go to Graifenberg, from whence,
after getting quite well, he went to Vienna. Here he
wrote " Agaj-Han," and had it published at Breslau.
He left Vienna in 1836 and went to Italy and Rome;
here he became acquainted with Julius S? owacki, and
wrote "Irydion. " In 1838 he went to Warsaw, but on
account of illness was again obliged to return to Italy.
In 1843 he was married to Countess Elizabeth Branicka
at Dresden, whence they visited the places of their
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? KRASIN? SKI. 263
birth, and then again went to Warsaw. In 1845 he
went to Xice, where he wrote one of the most beautiful
poems, '* The Psalms," in consequence of which a con-
troversy ensued between himself and the poet S'owacki.
In 1847 he once more visited Rome, and there again
met Mickiewicz. In the following year he resided at
Heidelberg, Paris, and Baden, when he again was
called to Warsaw in 1849; but the eye disease coming
upon him with greater severity than ever, he once
more, with the permission of the Government, returned
to Heidelberg, and then to Baden. Toward the last of
that year he was very assiduously occupied with the
antiquities dug out by the Appian Way, and the follow-
ing year he spent some time on the picturesque banks
of the river Rhine, from whence for the third time he
was ordered by the Government to return to Warsaw.
When his health began to fail and the eye disease
grew worse, he went once more to Heidelberg, and on
the death of Czar Nicholas, having received a permis-
sion to reside in foreign countries, he stopped at Baden,
and in 1856 at Kissingen. Later he journeyed to
Paris, and from there visited his father at Potok; but
soon after he went to Plombieres and Ems to try the
water-cure. In the same year he returned to Paris;
there he learned of the death of his father, which had
so great an effect upon him that he fell hopelessly ill,
and died on the 14th of February, 1859.
Krasinski's works were published at Warsaw, Paris,
Breslau, Leszno, Leipsic, and Posen.
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? 264 POETS AND POETKY OF POLAND.
PRAY FOR ME.
Pray for me -- when I mourn in sore depression
Sins of my fathers, and my own transgression;
Pray for me that when death at last shall doom me,
Regrets for thee arise not to consume me.
Pray for me -- that when with my God in Heaven,
After long ages passed, it shall be given
My weary soul to rest with thee forever,
For here much sorrow mars its high endeavor.
Pray for me -- vain my life if, worst of changes,
Thy heart grown cold from mine itself estranges;
Oh, pray for me, for I through years have treasured
Thy name with love unfathomed and unmeasured.
Pray for me -- for my life is dry and scentless,
My heart is faithful though my fate relentless;
Pray for me -- let thy words breathe healing thro' me,
Though thou canst only be a sister to me.
Pray for me -- other prayers are unavailing,
Thine only calm my heart in its bewailing;
All other prayers save thine the pang would double;
Pray for me -- for I cling to thee in trouble.
On earth without thee I am lost and lonely;
My thoughts are thine, I dream upon thee only;
Dream that in far eternities now hidden,
My soul with thine shall mingle unforbidden.
EVER AND EVERYWHERE.
Say not of me when I am in my grave,
I only wounded where I should forbear;
'Twas that I drank from sorrow's bitter wave,
Ever and everywhere.
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? KRASIN? SKI. 265
Say not of me calm-voiced when I am gone
That I have marred your life that else was fair;
I walked with sunshine from my own withdrawn,
Ever and everywhere.
Say not of me as colder hearts would sa}'
When I am dead, that life had proved a snare
Because misfortune followed on my way,
Ever and everywhere.
When I am gone, then kindly speak of me,
Say that my heart was frenzied by despair;
I loved thee from my soul, if bitterly,
Ever and everywhere.
TO A LADY.
Hearts you may lure to you with ardent glances,
Or crush beneath unsympathetic swa}^;
Yet will you fall below the fair ideal
Of womanhood, for which we wait and pray.
Eyes downward cast, and cheek whose roseate glowing
Tells not of knowledge, are to-day as nought ;
Attain to womanhood through slow ascension,
Through scenes of sorrow rise to heights of thought.
And when through tears and pains of aspiration
A ray of Deity outflowing warm
Shall touch your soul with its living splendor,
And buds that blossom in the day of storm
Unfold to crown your pale and thoughtful forehead,
Then will your beauty take ideal form.
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? 266 POETS AND POETRY OF POLAND.
ONCE I ASKED THE DAY.
(Never before included in Krasinski's Collections. )
Once I asked the day why it was so bright,
I asked the thought why it soared so free,
And the heart why the world should so narrow be,
And the stars why they shone with such lustrous light.
I am son of the sun, replied Day, so am bright;
Being children of spirit, Thought answered, we soar;
The world is narrow, said Heart, since perverse evermore;
We shine, the Stars answered, as the great King of light.
I asked a gentle maiden's beaming eyes
Whence came such marvelous outlines of her face,
And whence to her soul such beauty and such grace,
Whence the rays of light and fires of feeling rise.
No word she spoke -- her beauteous face alone
With the expression of her sweet spirit shone,
Her eyes' light touched her face with crimson rays,
And played in her feelings; pure spring displays
The sunlight in depths of the clear summer rill,
We can only solve feelings with feelings still,
And the works of God with the Heaven-sent mind;
But if 'tis not understood by humankind,
Oh, do not their dull comprehension resent.
The world should never chill your feeling from Heaven sent;
Let not earthiness a shade on thy soul's glory cast.
And when my sad star has removed me far from thee,
Remember it to thee could never permitted be.
By mem'ry of the dear hours we have together passed,
And by the memory of all feeling most divine,
Of all my inspirations holiest and most bright.
To cast aside the rays of radiant, sacred light,
Which even in the lowliest grave will o'er me shine
As it shone in the glad morning of my life's fair day,
On the threshold of eternity 'twill shed its ray;
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? KRASIN? SKI. 267
And though on the earth it parts us with stern behest,
'Twill surely in God once more unite us, ever blessed!
RESURECTURIS.
The world's a graveyard, kneaded with tears and gore,
Where none his Golgotha avoids. Evermore --
Vain is the spirit's strife
When sorrow's shaft descends;
Against the storms of life
No refuge here defends.
Abysses dark ingulf the brave,
At every step fate mocks at us,
The pure, the loved, sink in the grave,
The hated live, -- 'tis ever thus.
All is tangling in a maze which naught divines,
And death is near and far away:
O'er waves of future ages shines
Resurrection's Day.
Heartless and insensible, then, must we be,
Murder with murderers setting passion free,
'Mid the vile grow viler, and though conscience yearn,
Make it's soft voice be still,
Lie, hate, blaspheme, and kill,
And evil for evil to this world return.
In this alone must all our power consist; --
Let us eat and drink, and sate the body well,
Chasing from the brain each noble thought, and swell
Of fortunate and fools the length'ning list.
Oh ! no, that must not be.
Oh! pause, my soul, for we
Can never in that way
At humanity's head
Stand. No force can hold at bay
But sacrifice the dread
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? 268 POETS AND POETRY OF POLAND.
And unrelenting fate
That crushes us to naught.
That is the lion great
Of history ; -- all pride
And servility are;
But idle straws that caught
By passing breath may glide
To nothingness afar.
Oh! learn thyself to know;
Seek not omnipotent,
Like Him in heaven, to grow,
And to bend thee like a brute, ne'er give consent,
Knowing no good save some fat pasture-land on
This side the tomb; e'er breaks the radiant dawn
Of Resurrection. Oh! be thou constant still,
Though worlds should crash unmoved with dauntless will.
Be tireless. Patience, which 'mid every ill
Slowly rears from naught the edifice complete,
And which e'er prepares, unshaken by defeat,
The future, certain, and final victory.
Oh ! amid the storm be thou tranquillity,
Order in chaos, in discord harmony;
Amid this life's combat, that no respite hath,
Be thou the eternal Beauty, calm and bright.
For cowards and for Pharisees be wrath,
And menace or silent contempt, pure as light,
Angelic inspiration for all men be.
The rich nourishment that nourishes the heart,
A sister's tear when suffering thou dost see,
A manly voice when courage, long tried, forsakes,
Home, birthplace, wandering exiles find in thee.
Be hope for the despairing, -- thunder that wakes
The drowsy souls lulled in corpse-like repose.
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? KEASIN? SKI. 269
Be thou the force, always and everywhere,
That reconciles, -- force of self, -- devotion rare,
Stronger than death, and in the strife that no end knows, --
Against the mad world's abyss of hate, Oh! be
Abyss of love, pure and free.
Ne'er cease to give
Thyself unto thy brethren in form sublime
Of teaching and example; in acts that live
Still multiply thyself; thus for all time
Thousands of men shall be outweighed by thee.
Even in irons performing acts that bless,
Learn to bear pain and bitterest agony;
Thy whole nation living in thy breast shall be, --
Be the miracle joins heaven to earth, -- naught less, -- '
In slavery, -- holiness.
Seek not death till, like the buried seed that starts,
Thy grand thoughts be sown and germing in the hearts
Of thy compatriots, -- till martyrdom alone
A pledge of certain victory shall be known.
Strive not with others' goodness, but thine own,
Shun martyrdom's renown,
And false vain-glory's crown
Leave to fools; for in this,
Danger's dreadful abyss,
Plunge only heroes brave.
Loftiest souls ne'er gave
Heed to siren's voice of bliss.
When the tocsin of events at last shall swell, --
Signal for thy final holocaust, -- a knell
Both sad and wild, from thy native land, then
Kneel down on eternity's threshold; -- When,
So deep within thy humble and contrite soul,
Thou hear'st the voice that only comes from God above,
Rise, like a strong athlete who wins the goal.
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? 270 POETS AND POETEY OF POLAND.
Shake off thy feet earth's dust. With infinite love
? Stretch forth thy arms to Heaven, which still will bless.
Without complaint, wail, inward bitterness,
Bravely to meet thy executioners advance,
Saluting them with inmost pitying glance
Of high immortality, which glorifies.
Thus for the future thy sacrifice shall be"
The most fruitful witness. From thy death shall rise
The germ of life, for all men glorious, free.
The hopes the world deems idle dreams,
Oh! make them real, --
In justice, faith, --
To see and feel;
Which, like a probe that deeply darts,
Sink in men's hearts,
And dwell forever there.
Be its touch light as air,
A breath, a sigh's soft thrill.
The world, thy murderer, will
Kneel to thee in remorse,
Confessing brutal force;
Is impotent to strike
Country and God alike
From the conscience and care
Of nations everywhere.
When the blood which thy wounds shall spill
Sanctifies thy thought, that thought will
Draw the light of God's judgment strong
On the impious throng.
Troops and bayonets are vain,
Kings, lies, corruption, -- aught;
No people shall attain
Power against that thought.
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? KRASIN? SKI. 271
When the third day shall dawn
O'er thy agony, on
Thy martyrdom's white tomb, --
At last the boon shall bloom
For nations, -- undefiled-
Justice, -- God's own fair child.
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? S? OWACKTS MONUMENT IN PARIS (FRANCE).
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? S? OWAUK? 273
S? OWACKI.
Julius SIowacki tried liis strength at all kinds of
poetry. There are beautiful lyrics of his; others again
are epics, and also dramas. In each and every one of
these his creative mind shines with a resplendent lus-
ter. Everywhere he is new, fresh, and poetic; always
exhibiting extraordinary strength, always soaring high.
For a long time S? owacki was not understood, al-
though he was a poet belonging to all humanity; but
some of his poems were not understood, and others did
not come into general use. Almost thirty years had
elapsed before the people could look into them and
fully comprehend them. But as everything of the
highest order will ultimately find its vindication with
the people, so it was with Slowacki's writings; they at
last found their deserved acknowledgment and justifi-
cation.
Of all the poets from Krasicki to Krasin? ski, no one
possessed greater power of fantasy than S? owacki.
This was shown in a volume of poems written at the
time of the Polish Revolution (1831), and since its fall.
Another poem, "Zmija" (the Yiper), is also a fan-
tastic production. But there is much higher and truer
poetic merit in his "John Bielecki. " The subject is
taken from the Polish Chronicles, partly oral, of a cer-
tain occurrence having taken place in eastern Galicia.
Here the portraitures of the Polish nobility are strik-
ing, and scattered throughout the poem very happily,
showing the greatest force, and with it the character-
istics of his own individuality as a man of uncommon
genius. " The father of the stricken with the plague,"
18
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? 274 POETS AND POETEY OF POLAND.
in El-Arish, contains in it a power likening to the suf-
fering of the Laocoon not carved in wood nor chiseled
in marble, but in the painting of poetic genius.
Among all the creations of S? owacki, nor in the whole
Polish literature, is there anything that could equal it
in finish, conciseness, power and truth, and finally the
incomparable mastery in the diversification of the par-
ticulars of this awe-inspiring poem. What the statue
of Laocoon or the groups of Mobe is in sculpture,
"The father of the plague-stricken" is in S? owacki's
poetry. If it concerned the vivid representation of
accumulated strokes of misfortune heaping thunder-,
bolts upon the head of a doomed human being, weep-
ing till its tears are dry, and moaning under the weight
of misery until the last vestige of human feeling is
gone; when it becomes a lifeless statue, unable to
weep or feel more -- to reflect over its unutterable mis-
ery -- then surely Slowacki's design is fully accom-
plished.
Then comes "Hugo," tales of the Crusades, fol-
lowed by "Balladyna," and "Lilla Weneda. " The
first one a beautiful epopee, not exactly in the Ho-
meric style, but somewhat in the manner of Ariosto;
prehistoric account of Poland is the subject. "In
Switzerland " is a charming idyllic intermixed with
tragic incidents, so abstruse and yet so truthful that it
is not possible to find any such love-dream in any for-
eign tongue. Truth a*nd fiction, reality and poetry,
man's love and genius of the artist, all here strike
hands to produce a poetic creation, and one knows not
which to admire the most. In "Wac? aw" is a full
confession of beautiful motives, such as are seldom to
be found. This poem is equal to any of Lord Byron's
in the masterly carving out of each particular. "The
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? S?
