aw" is a full
confession of beautiful motives, such as are seldom to
be found.
confession of beautiful motives, such as are seldom to
be found.
Poland - 1881 - Poets and Poetry of Poland
ark:/13960/t04x6gz3d Public Domain / http://www.
hathitrust.
org/access_use#pd
? 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I walked with sunshine from my own withdrawn,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? OWACKI. 275
Arab" and "The Monk" are also wrought in an ar-
tistic manner. "The Silver Dream of Salomea? "
seems to be only a dramatized tale concerning two dif-
ferent pairs of married people, who, in order to accom-
plish the desired end of being united in marriage,
have to wade through a sea of misfortunes and fears
caused by national troubles, which so ruthlessly passed
over their devoted heads. It is for that reason that
the poet called it "The Romantic Drama. " The
tragedy " Mindowe " is one of the latest of the poet's
productions. In this tragedy the incidents relate to
the times when Lithuania had not yet the light of
Christianity. In represents the renegacy and the re-
turn to the faith of his sires of Prince Menclog. The
tragedy "Mazeppa" is full of tragic incidents, and of
vivid and passionate poetry; where the most delicate
shades of human nature are wrought up to perfection.
The background of " Kordyan " is the age, which,
from the very beginning, the poet reproaches and chas-
tises for its dwarfishness, condemned to pass away as
unworthy of mention. The poet here creates a charac-
ter which is too exalted, and outgrew the littleness of
the spirit of the present generation. He feels keenly
the misery of this life, and desires to fill it with some-
thing more noble, and hence throws himself about,
here and there, to attain the desired object. S? o-
wacki's "Kordyan" unites almost all the character-
istics of greatness and the contempt of life -- ready for
all sacrifices, desire for fame, bravery and noble pride.
In the historical drama "Maria Stuart" the frame
of the picture is tolerably narrow. It was not the in-
tention of S? owacki, as it was of Schiller, in the trag-
edy of the same name, to draw within the confines, of
it the whole history of the given epoch, but for all
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? 276 POETS AND POETRY OF POLAND.
that there are in it splendid passages that enchant the
reader. The verse is flowery and masterly, and his
language sparkles with diamonds of the first water.
The epopee " Sambro " proves Stowacki's great power
of fancy and a great gift of poetical invention. The
subject is taken from Greek history, that is to say from
the last part of it of last century. He tries to repre-
sent a hero endowed with every necessary condition,
and to excite for him the wonder and admiration of
the reader, whereas it is discovered that from under
these artificial coverings appears a man full of moral
corruption -- the more unpleasant to the eye since it is
plainly seen that he comes out with gigantic preten-
sions which nothing can justify.
It being impossible for our poet to travel all the
time in the realms of poetic fantasy of the past, and
hearing the subterranean moanings and weeping of the
people, he created, with a power at once charming and
genial, "Anhellim," where the infernal regions of Siberia
take a shape of strange illusion which makes it beau-
tiful and fearful, dismal and at the same time enticing.
In this production the poet gives a portraiture of
the fate of the whole people, and a review of their
relations which we suffer for the guilt of others, as
also of transgression of which we ourselves are guilty.
It was the poet's fancy to call a Siberia the whole of
our social condition. The doctrine advanced in
" Anhellim " is turbid and fantastic, -- it loses itself in
the unfathomable depth of mysticism, and is written in
biblical style. In ' c Bieniowski " one is reminded from
its construction of Byron's " Don Juan," but in spirit
it resembles the creations of Ariosto. The poem
uncovers to the reader the bloody wars toward the end
of the last century, in which Poland has manifested
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? S? OWACKI. 277
her patriotism, which are shown by various drifts in
the poem. Here, in imitation of an English bard,
S? owacki marks strongly his own individuality. Be-
sides the strophes marked by deep moral feeling,
colored mostly by the poet's fancy, we find others in
which is seen a most extraordinary power of language
in form, and unlimited bitterness of feeling. This
powerful poem by turns causes tears to flow, aston-
ishes, cheers up the public, and moves their passions.
Being deeply engaged in the investigation of questions
beyond the comprehension of human understanding,
brought about by Towiaaski (a votary of whose doc-
trines S? owacki became), it engrossed his mind to such
a degree that in his last composition their influence is
obvious. It is plainly seen in his " Priest-Mark," a
drama in which the character and stamping of the
Jewess Judith answers exactly the conception of Tow-
ianski's sect as regards the mission of the Jewish
people. From the plot and characters introduced it is
evident that the poet was intent upon the conquering of
the evils of the world, and the erecting upon their ruins
of a great epoch of the future for the people and for
humanity itself.
"The Spirit King" was the first great national epopee
in song wherein the author puts aside the veil and pre-
sents to view his grand philosophical thoughts in regard
to his country; and in order to legitimize it the author
gives us to understand that he thoroughly comprehends
the long sufferings of his nation; and we further infer
that the poet knew the way to solve the problem of the
nation's future destiny. The author makes this pro-
duction an offering upon the altar of art for humanity,
but not for the real interest of a perishable generation.
" The Spirit King " displaces but does not divide the
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? 278 POETS AND POETRY OF POLAND.
vital parts of his country. His plan comprehends the
eternal future, history corroborates it; the present bears
witness to it, and the future will demonstrate its truth.
All of Slowacki's works possess a powerful feeling,
exalted thoughts, and stormy passions. Oftentimes he
pours out to the world the bitterness of his heart; but
above all his fancy is so active that his mind and feel-
ing can hardly keep pace with it.
It is not tobe wondered at, then, that he reaches with
so much tenderness the hearts of the Polish youth. He
was their songster and their spiritual leader. The spirit
of youth, like the gentle breezes of spring, breathes
from every one of his songs. The age of dreams, the
inward emotions of the soul, and sudden but noble
impulses, permeate each of his creations.
S? owacki was born in 1809 at Krzemieniec, where
his father, Euzebius, was a professor of the Polish
language. He received the rudiments of education at
Wilno, and after finishing the course there, in 1824
entered the University. In 1826 he went to Odessa,
and after completing his academic studies he entered in
1828 as assistant in the treasury department in War-
saw. Here he wrote " The Mother of God, "and the
tragedy "Mindowe. " Owing to the revolution of
1831, and adhering to the moderate party, he left for
Dresden, from whence he was made a member of the
diplomatic mission going to Paris. Then he went to
London, and after the taking of Warsaw, being for-
bidden to return to Poland, he went again to Paris and
lived in seclusion, but ardently engaged in the cause of
Polish emigration. In 1832 he left for G-eneva, where
he took up his abode on the shores of Lake Geneva,
and wrote the poem " Lambro," "The Hour of
Thought," " Duma Wac? aw Kzewuski," and " Paris. "
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? S? OWACKI. 279
He then went to Greece, the East, and Italy. At
Rome he met Sigismimd Krasin? ski, returned to Greece
again, and in 1856 went to Egypt. From Cairo, on a
camel, he travels to Gaza, through the desert, and
reaches Jerusalem, and from there he visits Palestine,
Mount Lebanon, Damascus, and the ruins of Balbek.
At Beyrout he wrote the celebrated poem w ' The Father
of the Plague-Stricken," founded upon facts of sad
adventure, in which he, with his associates, took a
prominent part during two weeks' quarantine at
El-Arish. At Beyrout he went in a sail- vessel in 1837
to Livorno. In the following year he resided at
Florence, where he published his 4t Anhelli. " In 1839
he returned to Paris, where he resided till his death;
and though amidst many members of the Polish
emigration, he lived most of the time in seclusion. He
looked with somewhat envious eye upon Mickiewicz's
reputation, between whom and himself there was ap-
parent coolness, -- Mickiewicz in his lectures on Litera-
ture having his name mentioned but once, and that,
too, rather indifferently. This year he published his
"Balladyna," and in the following year "Lillia
Weneda " and " Mazeppa " were also brought out.
Under the influence of a morbid feeling he published
" Bieniowski," in 1841, where he bitterly complains of
the indifference of some people, -- Mickiewicz and the
critics receiving their share. In the same year he
joined Towianski's sect, and a happy reconciliation
took place between himself and Mickiewicz; but shortly
after the proud and independent feeling of S? owacki
caused him to leave the Towian? ski Union, and the poet
himself became the head of a separate sect, small in
number, but surpassing even Towian? ski in mysticism.
Under the deep impression of the doctrines of this sect
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? 280 POETS AND POETRY OF POLAND.
he wrote u Priest-Mark, " and also the drama "The
Silver Dream of Salomea? . "
The occurrences of 1848 reanimated him once more;
so much so that he left Paris for Posen, but did not
remain long. While returning through Breslau to
Paris, after the wandering of years, he saw and pressed
to his heart his beloved mother. Returning to Paris
he fell into a dangerous illness and never recovered
from it. Seeing that he was about to end his earthly
career he united himself with God, and expired the
3d of April, 1849.
His poems were published at different times and dif-
ferent places, but the most complete edition of his
works, in four volumes, was published in a library of the
Polish writers in 1861. In 1866-7 Professor Ma? ecki
published at Lemberg, with an addition of a biographical
studium, several literary productions of S? owacki hith-
erto unknown. The following are the titles: "Wal-
lace," a tragedy; "Krakus," and "Beatrice di Cenci ";
"Wallenrod," a drama; "The Black Zawisza," a
drama; "John Casimir," a drama; "The Incorrigi-
bles," whilom entitled the "New Dezanira," a drama;
" The Golden Cup," a drama; "The Poet and the In-
spiration," a fragment liry co-dramatic; " Samuel Zbor-
owski," a fantastic poem; " Journey to the East," con-
tinuation of " Bieniowski"; "Conversations with
Mother Makryna," a poem; and " The Genesis of the
Spirit," a prayer in prose.
I AM SO SAD, GOD!
I am so sad, God ! Thou hast before me
Spread a bright rainbow in the western skies,
But hast quenched in darkness cold and stormy
The brighter stars that rise;
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? S? OWACKI. 281
Clear grows the heaven 'neath thy transforming rod,
Still I am sad, O God!
Like empty ears of grain with heads erected
Have I delighted stood amid the crowd,
My face the while to stranger eyes reflected
The calm of summer's cloud;
But Thou dost know the ways that I have trod,
And why I grieve, O God!
I am like to a weary infant fretting
Whene'er its mother leaves it for a while,
And grieving watch the sun, whose light in setting
Throws back a parting smile;
Though it will bathe anew the morning sod,
Still lam sad, O God!
To-day o'er the wide waste of ocean sweeping
Hundreds of miles away from shore or rock,
I saw the cranes fly on, together keeping
In one unbroken flock;
Their feet with soil from Poland's hills were shod,
And I was sad, O God !
Often by strangers' tombs I've lingered weary,
Since grown a stranger to my native ways,
I walk a pilgrim through a desert dreary,
Lit but by lightning's blaze,
Knowing not where shall fall the burial clod
Upon my bier, O God!
Sometime hereafter will my bones lie whitened,
Somewhere on strangers' soil, I know not where;
I envy those whose dying hours are lightened,
Fanned by their native air; m
But flowers of some strange land will spring and nod
Above my grave, O God!
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? 282 POETS AND POETRY OF POLAND.
When but a guileless child at home they bade me
To pray each day for home restored, I found
My bark was steering -- how the thought dismayed me-
The whole wide world around!
Those prayers unanswered, wearily I plod
Through rugged ways, O God!
Upon the rainbow, whose resplendent rafter
Thy angels rear above us in the sky,
Others will look a hundred years hereafter,
And pass away as I;
Exiled and hopeless 'neath thy chastening rod,
And sad as I, O God!
EXTRACTS FROM S? OWACKFS TRAGEDY OF MIN-
DOWE,* OR LEGATE'S REVENGE.
Mindowe, King of Litwania, having embraced the Christian
religion, his mother, who is blind, together with his
nephew Troinace, conspire to effect his death. Mindowe
has banished ? awski, the Prince of Nalzhaski, and es-
sayed to win the affections of his wife. ? awski, not being
heard of for some time, is supposed to be dead. The scene
opens just after the baptismal rites of the monarch.
ACTI.
Scene II. -- The royal presence-chamber. .
Enter Casimir and Basil, from different sides.
Basil. Saw you the rites to-day, my Casimir?
Casimir. I saw what may I never see again,
The altars of our ancient faith torn down,
Our king a base apostate, groveling
" Beneath a --
* Pronounce Mindoveh.
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? S? OWACKI. 283
Basil {interrupting him). Hold! knowest thou not
The ancient saw that " palace walls have ears! "
The priests throng round us like intruding flies,
And latitude of speech is fatal.
Casimir. True --
I should speak cautiously -- But hast seen
The Prince?
? 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? OWACKI. 275
Arab" and "The Monk" are also wrought in an ar-
tistic manner. "The Silver Dream of Salomea? "
seems to be only a dramatized tale concerning two dif-
ferent pairs of married people, who, in order to accom-
plish the desired end of being united in marriage,
have to wade through a sea of misfortunes and fears
caused by national troubles, which so ruthlessly passed
over their devoted heads. It is for that reason that
the poet called it "The Romantic Drama. " The
tragedy " Mindowe " is one of the latest of the poet's
productions. In this tragedy the incidents relate to
the times when Lithuania had not yet the light of
Christianity. In represents the renegacy and the re-
turn to the faith of his sires of Prince Menclog. The
tragedy "Mazeppa" is full of tragic incidents, and of
vivid and passionate poetry; where the most delicate
shades of human nature are wrought up to perfection.
The background of " Kordyan " is the age, which,
from the very beginning, the poet reproaches and chas-
tises for its dwarfishness, condemned to pass away as
unworthy of mention. The poet here creates a charac-
ter which is too exalted, and outgrew the littleness of
the spirit of the present generation. He feels keenly
the misery of this life, and desires to fill it with some-
thing more noble, and hence throws himself about,
here and there, to attain the desired object. S? o-
wacki's "Kordyan" unites almost all the character-
istics of greatness and the contempt of life -- ready for
all sacrifices, desire for fame, bravery and noble pride.
In the historical drama "Maria Stuart" the frame
of the picture is tolerably narrow. It was not the in-
tention of S? owacki, as it was of Schiller, in the trag-
edy of the same name, to draw within the confines, of
it the whole history of the given epoch, but for all
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? 276 POETS AND POETRY OF POLAND.
that there are in it splendid passages that enchant the
reader. The verse is flowery and masterly, and his
language sparkles with diamonds of the first water.
The epopee " Sambro " proves Stowacki's great power
of fancy and a great gift of poetical invention. The
subject is taken from Greek history, that is to say from
the last part of it of last century. He tries to repre-
sent a hero endowed with every necessary condition,
and to excite for him the wonder and admiration of
the reader, whereas it is discovered that from under
these artificial coverings appears a man full of moral
corruption -- the more unpleasant to the eye since it is
plainly seen that he comes out with gigantic preten-
sions which nothing can justify.
It being impossible for our poet to travel all the
time in the realms of poetic fantasy of the past, and
hearing the subterranean moanings and weeping of the
people, he created, with a power at once charming and
genial, "Anhellim," where the infernal regions of Siberia
take a shape of strange illusion which makes it beau-
tiful and fearful, dismal and at the same time enticing.
In this production the poet gives a portraiture of
the fate of the whole people, and a review of their
relations which we suffer for the guilt of others, as
also of transgression of which we ourselves are guilty.
It was the poet's fancy to call a Siberia the whole of
our social condition. The doctrine advanced in
" Anhellim " is turbid and fantastic, -- it loses itself in
the unfathomable depth of mysticism, and is written in
biblical style. In ' c Bieniowski " one is reminded from
its construction of Byron's " Don Juan," but in spirit
it resembles the creations of Ariosto. The poem
uncovers to the reader the bloody wars toward the end
of the last century, in which Poland has manifested
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? S? OWACKI. 277
her patriotism, which are shown by various drifts in
the poem. Here, in imitation of an English bard,
S? owacki marks strongly his own individuality. Be-
sides the strophes marked by deep moral feeling,
colored mostly by the poet's fancy, we find others in
which is seen a most extraordinary power of language
in form, and unlimited bitterness of feeling. This
powerful poem by turns causes tears to flow, aston-
ishes, cheers up the public, and moves their passions.
Being deeply engaged in the investigation of questions
beyond the comprehension of human understanding,
brought about by Towiaaski (a votary of whose doc-
trines S? owacki became), it engrossed his mind to such
a degree that in his last composition their influence is
obvious. It is plainly seen in his " Priest-Mark," a
drama in which the character and stamping of the
Jewess Judith answers exactly the conception of Tow-
ianski's sect as regards the mission of the Jewish
people. From the plot and characters introduced it is
evident that the poet was intent upon the conquering of
the evils of the world, and the erecting upon their ruins
of a great epoch of the future for the people and for
humanity itself.
"The Spirit King" was the first great national epopee
in song wherein the author puts aside the veil and pre-
sents to view his grand philosophical thoughts in regard
to his country; and in order to legitimize it the author
gives us to understand that he thoroughly comprehends
the long sufferings of his nation; and we further infer
that the poet knew the way to solve the problem of the
nation's future destiny. The author makes this pro-
duction an offering upon the altar of art for humanity,
but not for the real interest of a perishable generation.
" The Spirit King " displaces but does not divide the
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? 278 POETS AND POETRY OF POLAND.
vital parts of his country. His plan comprehends the
eternal future, history corroborates it; the present bears
witness to it, and the future will demonstrate its truth.
All of Slowacki's works possess a powerful feeling,
exalted thoughts, and stormy passions. Oftentimes he
pours out to the world the bitterness of his heart; but
above all his fancy is so active that his mind and feel-
ing can hardly keep pace with it.
It is not tobe wondered at, then, that he reaches with
so much tenderness the hearts of the Polish youth. He
was their songster and their spiritual leader. The spirit
of youth, like the gentle breezes of spring, breathes
from every one of his songs. The age of dreams, the
inward emotions of the soul, and sudden but noble
impulses, permeate each of his creations.
S? owacki was born in 1809 at Krzemieniec, where
his father, Euzebius, was a professor of the Polish
language. He received the rudiments of education at
Wilno, and after finishing the course there, in 1824
entered the University. In 1826 he went to Odessa,
and after completing his academic studies he entered in
1828 as assistant in the treasury department in War-
saw. Here he wrote " The Mother of God, "and the
tragedy "Mindowe. " Owing to the revolution of
1831, and adhering to the moderate party, he left for
Dresden, from whence he was made a member of the
diplomatic mission going to Paris. Then he went to
London, and after the taking of Warsaw, being for-
bidden to return to Poland, he went again to Paris and
lived in seclusion, but ardently engaged in the cause of
Polish emigration. In 1832 he left for G-eneva, where
he took up his abode on the shores of Lake Geneva,
and wrote the poem " Lambro," "The Hour of
Thought," " Duma Wac? aw Kzewuski," and " Paris. "
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? S? OWACKI. 279
He then went to Greece, the East, and Italy. At
Rome he met Sigismimd Krasin? ski, returned to Greece
again, and in 1856 went to Egypt. From Cairo, on a
camel, he travels to Gaza, through the desert, and
reaches Jerusalem, and from there he visits Palestine,
Mount Lebanon, Damascus, and the ruins of Balbek.
At Beyrout he wrote the celebrated poem w ' The Father
of the Plague-Stricken," founded upon facts of sad
adventure, in which he, with his associates, took a
prominent part during two weeks' quarantine at
El-Arish. At Beyrout he went in a sail- vessel in 1837
to Livorno. In the following year he resided at
Florence, where he published his 4t Anhelli. " In 1839
he returned to Paris, where he resided till his death;
and though amidst many members of the Polish
emigration, he lived most of the time in seclusion. He
looked with somewhat envious eye upon Mickiewicz's
reputation, between whom and himself there was ap-
parent coolness, -- Mickiewicz in his lectures on Litera-
ture having his name mentioned but once, and that,
too, rather indifferently. This year he published his
"Balladyna," and in the following year "Lillia
Weneda " and " Mazeppa " were also brought out.
Under the influence of a morbid feeling he published
" Bieniowski," in 1841, where he bitterly complains of
the indifference of some people, -- Mickiewicz and the
critics receiving their share. In the same year he
joined Towianski's sect, and a happy reconciliation
took place between himself and Mickiewicz; but shortly
after the proud and independent feeling of S? owacki
caused him to leave the Towian? ski Union, and the poet
himself became the head of a separate sect, small in
number, but surpassing even Towian? ski in mysticism.
Under the deep impression of the doctrines of this sect
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? 280 POETS AND POETRY OF POLAND.
he wrote u Priest-Mark, " and also the drama "The
Silver Dream of Salomea? . "
The occurrences of 1848 reanimated him once more;
so much so that he left Paris for Posen, but did not
remain long. While returning through Breslau to
Paris, after the wandering of years, he saw and pressed
to his heart his beloved mother. Returning to Paris
he fell into a dangerous illness and never recovered
from it. Seeing that he was about to end his earthly
career he united himself with God, and expired the
3d of April, 1849.
His poems were published at different times and dif-
ferent places, but the most complete edition of his
works, in four volumes, was published in a library of the
Polish writers in 1861. In 1866-7 Professor Ma? ecki
published at Lemberg, with an addition of a biographical
studium, several literary productions of S? owacki hith-
erto unknown. The following are the titles: "Wal-
lace," a tragedy; "Krakus," and "Beatrice di Cenci ";
"Wallenrod," a drama; "The Black Zawisza," a
drama; "John Casimir," a drama; "The Incorrigi-
bles," whilom entitled the "New Dezanira," a drama;
" The Golden Cup," a drama; "The Poet and the In-
spiration," a fragment liry co-dramatic; " Samuel Zbor-
owski," a fantastic poem; " Journey to the East," con-
tinuation of " Bieniowski"; "Conversations with
Mother Makryna," a poem; and " The Genesis of the
Spirit," a prayer in prose.
I AM SO SAD, GOD!
I am so sad, God ! Thou hast before me
Spread a bright rainbow in the western skies,
But hast quenched in darkness cold and stormy
The brighter stars that rise;
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? S? OWACKI. 281
Clear grows the heaven 'neath thy transforming rod,
Still I am sad, O God!
Like empty ears of grain with heads erected
Have I delighted stood amid the crowd,
My face the while to stranger eyes reflected
The calm of summer's cloud;
But Thou dost know the ways that I have trod,
And why I grieve, O God!
I am like to a weary infant fretting
Whene'er its mother leaves it for a while,
And grieving watch the sun, whose light in setting
Throws back a parting smile;
Though it will bathe anew the morning sod,
Still lam sad, O God!
To-day o'er the wide waste of ocean sweeping
Hundreds of miles away from shore or rock,
I saw the cranes fly on, together keeping
In one unbroken flock;
Their feet with soil from Poland's hills were shod,
And I was sad, O God !
Often by strangers' tombs I've lingered weary,
Since grown a stranger to my native ways,
I walk a pilgrim through a desert dreary,
Lit but by lightning's blaze,
Knowing not where shall fall the burial clod
Upon my bier, O God!
Sometime hereafter will my bones lie whitened,
Somewhere on strangers' soil, I know not where;
I envy those whose dying hours are lightened,
Fanned by their native air; m
But flowers of some strange land will spring and nod
Above my grave, O God!
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? 282 POETS AND POETRY OF POLAND.
When but a guileless child at home they bade me
To pray each day for home restored, I found
My bark was steering -- how the thought dismayed me-
The whole wide world around!
Those prayers unanswered, wearily I plod
Through rugged ways, O God!
Upon the rainbow, whose resplendent rafter
Thy angels rear above us in the sky,
Others will look a hundred years hereafter,
And pass away as I;
Exiled and hopeless 'neath thy chastening rod,
And sad as I, O God!
EXTRACTS FROM S? OWACKFS TRAGEDY OF MIN-
DOWE,* OR LEGATE'S REVENGE.
Mindowe, King of Litwania, having embraced the Christian
religion, his mother, who is blind, together with his
nephew Troinace, conspire to effect his death. Mindowe
has banished ? awski, the Prince of Nalzhaski, and es-
sayed to win the affections of his wife. ? awski, not being
heard of for some time, is supposed to be dead. The scene
opens just after the baptismal rites of the monarch.
ACTI.
Scene II. -- The royal presence-chamber. .
Enter Casimir and Basil, from different sides.
Basil. Saw you the rites to-day, my Casimir?
Casimir. I saw what may I never see again,
The altars of our ancient faith torn down,
Our king a base apostate, groveling
" Beneath a --
* Pronounce Mindoveh.
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? S? OWACKI. 283
Basil {interrupting him). Hold! knowest thou not
The ancient saw that " palace walls have ears! "
The priests throng round us like intruding flies,
And latitude of speech is fatal.
Casimir. True --
I should speak cautiously -- But hast seen
The Prince?
