No More Learning

Czyli cie? wichro? w zda? sane sza? y,
Czy morskie le? kaja? fale?
Rozwesel oko, rozjas? nij czo? o!
W dobrym okre? cie, w pogode? --
Lotny nasz soko? ? nie tak weso? o
lak my polecim przez wode? .
* Translated by Adam Mickiewicz.
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? 224 * POETS AND POETRY OF POLAND.
IV.
" Let winds be shrill, let waves roll high,
I fear not wave nor wind;
Yet marvel not, Sir Childe, that I
Am sorrowful in mind;
For I have from my father gone,
A mother whom I love,
And have no friends save these alone,
But thee -- and One above.
v.
"My father bless'd me fervently,
Yet did not much complain;
But sorely will my mother sigh
Till I come back again. "
Enough, enough, my little lad,
Such tears become thine eye;
If I thy guileless bosom had,
Mine own would not be dry.
vi.
Gome hither, hither, my stanch yeoman,
Why dost thou look so pale?
Or dost thou dread a French foeman?
Or shiver at the gale?
" Deem'st thou I tremble for my life?
Sir Childe, I'm not so weak;
But thinking on an absent wife
Will blanch a faithful cheek.
" My spouse and boys dwell near thy hall,
Along the bordering lake,
And when they on their father call,
What answer shall she make? " --
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? MICKIEWICZ. 225
IV.
" Niech fala szumi, niech wicher g? uszy,
Niedbam pogoda czy s? ota:
Te ? zy wyciska z g? e? bi mej duszy
Nie bojaz? n? ale te? sknota.
Bo tam mo? j stary ojciec zostanie,
Tam matka zostanie droga,
Tam wszyscy moi pro? cz ciebie, panie
Pro? cz ciebie tylko i Boga.
Ojciec spokojnie mie? b? ogos? awi? ,
Nie p? acze an? i narzeka;
Lecz matka kto? ra? m we ? zach zostawi? ,
Z jaka? z? te? sknota? naz czeka? 1 '
Dos? c? . dos? c? , mo? j paziu! te ? zy dziecinne
Z? renicy twojej przystoja? ;
Gdybym mia? ro? wnie serce niewinne,
Widzia? bys? we ? zach i moja? .
vi.
Po? jdz? tu mo? j giermku, giermku mo? j m? ody!
Ska? d ci ta blados? c? na twarzy?
Czy rozhukanej le? kasz sie? wody,
Czyli francuzkich korsarzy?
"O nie Haroldzie! niedbam o z? ycie,
Niedbam o loso? w igrzyska:
Alem zostawi? zone? i dziecie?
To mi ? zy z oczu wyciska.
VII.
Zona na kon? cu twojego sio? a,
W zielonej mieszka da? browie;
Gdy dziecie? z p? aczem ojca zawo? a
Coz? mu nieszcze? sna odpowie? "
15
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? 226 POETS AND POETRY OF POLAND.
Enough, enough, my yeoman good,
Thy grief let none gainsay;
But I, who am of lighter mood,
Will laugh to flee away.
VIII.
For who would trust the seeming sighs
Of wife or paramour?
Fresh feres will dry the bright blue eyes
We late saw streaming o'er.
For pleasures past I do not grieve,
Nor perils gathering near;
My greatest grief is that I leave
No thing that claims a tear.
ix.
And now I'm in the world alone,
Upon the wide, wide sea;
But why should I for others groan,
When none will sigh for me?
Perchance my dog will whine in vain,
Till fed by stranger's hands;
But long ere I come back again
He'd tear me where he stands.
x.
With thee, my bark, I'll swiftly go
Athwart the foaming brine;
Nor care what land thou bear'st me to,
So not again to mine.
Welcome, welcome, ye dark blue waves!
And when you fail my sight,
Welcome, ye deserts and ye caves!
My native land -- good night !
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? MICKIEWICZ. 227
Dos? c? , dos? c? mo? j giermku ! s? uszna twa z? a? os? c? ;
la choc? tej ganic? niemoge? .
Mniejsza? mam czu? os? c? , czy wie? ksza? sta? os? c? :
S? mieja? c sie? puszczam sie? w droge? !
Kochanki, zony p? acz mie? niewzruszy --
Bo nim zabtys? nie poranek,
Z b? e? kitnych oczu te ? zy osuszy
Nowy ma? z? , nowy kochanek --
Niez? al mi ziemi gdziem m? odos? c? strawi?
,
Nie straszne podro? z? e wodne;
Z? a? uje? tylko z? em niezostawi?
Nic coby by? o ? ez godne.
ix.
Teraz po s? wiecie b? a? dze? szerokim,
I pe? dze? z? ycie tu? acze;
Czego? z? mam p? akac? zakim i po? kim
Kiedy nikt pomnie nie p? acze? --
Pies chyba tylko zawyje z rana,
Nim obca? karmiony re? ka? ,
Kiedys? swojego dawnego pana
Ws? ciek? a? powita paszcze? ka? .
Iuz? okre? t piersia? kraje g? e? bine? ,
I z? agle na wiatr rozwina? ? ;
Niedbam ku jakim brzegom pop? yne?
Bylebym nazad niep? yna? ? ,
Gdy mnie twe jasne znudza? kryszta? y,
Ogromna modra p? asczyzno,
Powitam lasy, pustynie, ska? y --
Ba? dz? zdrowa luba Ojczyzno!
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? 228 POETS AND POETRY OF POLAND.
BRODZIN? SKI.
Casimir Brodzin? ski is one of the poets who appeared
on the stage at the outset of this period. He cast his
searching eye upon the just expiring century and felt
in his heart the voice calling for a new state of things.
His elaborate ideas, combined with deep reflections,
he transferred into a charming world of poesy. He
argued the whole thing out, and gave his feelings a
tangible and poetic form. His talent was not of the
flashy kind, but rather retiring and modest, resembling
the light of the morning star casting upon the world its
soft, sad, and longing rays; but this light was not seen
nor understood by all; he shared the common lot of all
creative minds, and of those who wished to implant new
ideas into the popular heart. The public admired him;
men of letters appreciated him for his artistic skill;
it was acknowledged that his dissertations were full of
rendition; but the masses were deaf to Brodzinski's
voice, -- it failed to make any impression on their
minds. In a short time he was as it were completely
forsaken by them, and he became as a target to be fired
upon by the youth of Poland. A mistaken and ill-
advised impression was spread that in his works were
concealed dangerous elements. Thrust aside, found
fault with, he was almost forgotten. But the revolu-
tion of 1830 lifted him up at once. Heaven granted
him a gift of looking far into the future. Brodzinski's
poetic genius did not lift him into the empyrean spheres;
it did not carry him beyond the limits of the occasion;
but every one can see that his feelings are not con-
strained; that honesty of purpose and a yearning feeling
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? BRODZIN? SKI. 229
knocks gently at the heart of others. His prepon-
derant ability was in his inquiring mind, which carefully
reveals the unknown road, working cautiously around,
consulting his own judgment, and profiting by the
experience of others. Being well acquainted with
German literature, he preferred to look there for
examples to cultivate his own talent; but above all,
w r hile fathoming the popular songs and the character-
istics of the Slavonian peoples to . correctly delineate
the national spirit of Slavonian poetry seemed to be
his chief aim. But this innovation caused in those days
great opposition, especially among the votaries of
Laharpe and Boileau, who considered themselves as
infallible judges of every unfolding talent. Brod-
zin? ski suffered patiently all sorts of personal taunts,
and while forgetting himself he did not cease defending
the cause. He published a highly interesting disser-
tation on Classicism and Romanticism, which was
printed at Warsaw. This dissertation proved to be
a species of watch-word for a subsequent stormy literary
war, which gave the contending parties two separate
names, to wit: Classicists and Romanticists. Brod-
zin? ski very modestly put himself on the neutral
ground, and would not participate in this polemic
struggle; but by occasional publication of his poetical
compositions in the ',' Review,' 1 and finally by pub-
lishing them in a volume (1821-2), 'subdued all
prejudiced minds, and favorably inclined them toward
his innovations in the literature of his country, at the
same time opening a way to a complete reform, not
only in the art of writing itself, but also in the concep-
tions necessary to the innovation. These innovations
and conceptions were taken up by another genius, and
very soon after put into practice.
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? 230 POETS AND POETEY OF POLAND.
Brodzinski's poetical compositions breathed like the
gentle breezes of the wind, which seemed to send into
the popular heart a new life; it was a genuine national
breath, awakening in poetry pure native feeling and
turning attention to the land of our birth -- its inher-
ent qualities and its beauties; he chose for his images
simple and more accessible objects, -- rural life and
scenery, and beautifully painted their simplicity, their
innocence and charms.
Thus is his "Wies? aw " planned. It is like the first
flowers in the spring, which are not the prettiest in
outward appearance, -- but then one of these is the
violet, and who plucked the first violet in our litera-
ture was the first to welcome the spiritual spring of the
nation. "Wies? aw " is the most beautiful pastoral, -- the
most charming rural epopee, -- and after its publication
it created a sensation such as no other poem ever created
before. The youth of the country could repeat it by
heart, and even to this day the poem is known and
loved by all classes. It was welcomed at its first appear-
ance as a harbinger of a bright star of future poetry
which was to rise over the whole Polish nation. This
"Wies? aw," singing forth with the accompaniment of
a country fiddler, the Cracovian dancers, the bride-men,
the para-nymphs, came out with charms unknown
before. If Brodzin? ski had not written anything else
but that, it alone would have contributed greatly to the
Polish literature, and would have placed him in the
first ranks of Polish poets. He iufused into his poetry
all the gentleness of his nature, his feeling, and his
sincerity.
Brodzin? ski was born on the 8th of March, 1791, in
Galicia. In consequence of the early death of his
mother, and neglected by his stepmother, he grew up
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? BRODZIN? SKI. 231
amidst rural people and rural scenes. Later he was
sent to school at Lipnice. He finished the gymnasium
at Tarno? w, from where he ran away with his brother
Andrew, and enlisted in the artillery in 1809. He
served in the campaign of 1812, and the year after
was wounded at the battle of Leipsic, and finally
taken prisoner by the Prussians. In 1814 he was
released, and returning to Warsaw he left the military
service, and gave himself up to learning. At that time
(1818) he wrote his dissertation "Of Classicism and
Romanticism," which called out, as before mentioned,
the celebrated literary war. Laboring on the commit-
tee of the department of the interior he, at the same
time, gave private lessons in Polish literature. In
1821 he taught at the Lyceum, and the succeeding year
was called to a professorship at the University of War-
saw. His failing health compelled him to seek milder
climes, and in 1826 he left for Italy, visiting Switzer-
land and France. Returning again to his country he
continued in his usual labors till 1829. In the follow-
ing year he published "The Latin Elegies" of John
Kochanowski. Falling sick again he went to the Bo-
hemian waters, and died at Dresden on the 10th day of
October, 1835.
The first collection of his poems, in two volumes,
was published at Warsaw, 1821. Afterward "The
Miscellaneous Writings," containing critical and ses-
thetical dissertations was also published at Warsaw,
1830. A complete edition of his works was published
in ten volumes at Wilno, 1842-4. Besides that the
translation of the tragedy of "Raynouard," Warsaw,
1819; "Latin Elegies," Warsaw, 1830; "Of Litera-
ture," in Turowski' s Library, at Sanok, 1856.
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? 232 POETS AND POETEY OF POLAND.
THE FATHER AND HIS SON.
My son, give me my spade and plow --
To labor is our lot,
And though a lonely being now,
I'll guard our little cot.
Within the valley of thy birth
Lies armor we will raise;
'Tis hid within our native earth;
Awaiting better days.
And when I see thee draw once more
Thy father's conquering sword,
I'll dream our night of slavery is o'er,
And freedom is restored.
And oh, my son, weep not for me;
These aged hands can toil
For our support -- but 'tis for thee
To guard our native soil.
My hope on God and thee depends,
? And God will me reward;
My corn will grow to feed the friends
Whose swords our freedom guard.
See where yon trees their branches wave,
And shroud the church in gloom,
There, sooner than become a slave,
Thy aire will find a tomb.
And if returned from foes o'ercome,
To me be tear-drops given;
If not, thy arms must share my tomb,
And seek thy sire in heaven.
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? BRODZIN? SKI. 233
THE OLD MAN.
Young Man. Old man, tell me where to get bread.
Old Man. In early morning leave your bed,
And as the way is long and steep,
'Tis best the ploughshare's path to keep.
It will be somewhat wearisome,
But thereby health and peace will come.
Young Man. Where are your recreations here?
Old Man. No road through six days brings them near ;
Through six days to your work attend ;
To make a home your mind must bend,
And boldly then when earned your pelf
On Sunday you enjoy yourself.
Young Man. Where are your schools and teachers here?
Old Man. Schools and wise teachers both are near;
But you'll lose time to go and ask, --
Be giddy-headed with the task.
But for beginners, full of worth,
Are charts of sky and charts of earth;
And there is, too, Dame Nature's book,
That children learn from as they look.
People there are who lose or gain,
Whose hearts are full of joy or pain;
And they each other teach in turn,
With pluck and spirit go and learn.
Search without idleness; refrain
From asking oft. The way is plain.
Young Man. Tell me where can I find a friend .