Poltava by Alexander Pushkin--Delphi Classics (Illustrated) by Alexander Pushkin

Author:Alexander Pushkin [PUSHKIN, ALEXANDER]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Parts Edition 4 of 24 by Delphi Classics
Publisher: Delphi Classics (Parts Edition)
Published: 2017-08-24T00:00:00+00:00

POLTAVA. CANTO THE THIRD.

Though plunged in griefs that are his own,

Not less the ruler of Ukraine

His bold and daring scheme pursues.

True to his plans he stands resolved,

And with the Swedish King concludes

A secret pact against the Tsar.

Meanwhile, the better to deceive

The watchful eyes of hostile spies,

Some leeches wise he quickly calls,

As on the bed of sickness feigned

He groans and whines for instant help.

The passions, toils and cares of war,

The woes and weakness of old age,

Death’s harbingers, have laid him low.

But he, no more the dupe of life,

The passing world is glad to leave.

Religions rites he would observe,

And bids his trusty priest to come,

And on his hoary locks is poured

The healing oil of balm and peace.

But time goes by. In vain Moscow

The threatened guests each hour awaits,

And midst the graves of her old foes

For Swedish slain prepares a place.

A sudden change of march is made,

And Swedish troops invade Ukraine.

The day has come, and from his bed

Mazeppa rose, this suff’rer weak,

This living corpse, who yesternight

The last, sad rites demurely served.

But now, the rival of the Tsar

To Desna hotly makes his way,

With ardent eyes before his troops

His sword high waves and boldly rides.

All signs of age he now throws off,

Erect, and strong, and young, appears,

Like prelate who, in years well struck,

Is called to wear the Papal crown.

The wingèd news spreads far and wide:

“The Hetman false has humbly laid

At feet of Charles his golden mace.”

The fire quick catches, and the flames

Of civil war burst forth.

But who

Shall tell the Tsar’s fierce rage and wrath?

The churches echo ban and curse;

The hangman burns Mazeppa’s bust;

In noisy council’s hot debate

Another chief the Cossacks choose;

And from their place of exile far

The kin of lskra and his chief

Are summoned back. With them the Tsar

Bewails their sires’ unrighteous fate,

And subtly whets them to revenge.

And old Palaeus, horseman bold,

His youth renewed, once more returns,

The camp to join and fight the foe.

The Ataman, the bold Tchetchel,

Is seized and cast in dungeon deep.

And thou, who threwst away a crown

For warrior’s helm, thy fated day

Is near; Poltava’s ancient walls

At last thou seest from afar.

And now, the Tsar his troops has massed,

Wave after wave succeeding fast,

And in the centre of the vale

The two opposing camps are pitched.

Not once in skirmish bold repulsed,

From early years made drunk with blood,

With all a warrior’s joy Charles sees

At length the wished-for day arrive,

When he and his dread foe, the Tsar,

In battle face to face shall meet.

He has his wish, but finds himself

Confronted with no runaways,

As when he fought at Narva, but

With soldiers well accoutred, brave,

Obedient, and self possessed,

With sure and trusty weapons armed.

“To-morrow morn we battle give!”

He thus resolved; and all was still

Throughout the camp, save where two friends

Together whispered converse held.

MAZEPPA.

Nay, Orlick, I too late perceive

What unwise rashness we have shown;

Bold was our scheme, but badly planned;

Nor can we hope achieve our end,

But rather failure and disgrace.

Our error naught can now redeem.

This Swedish King I have mistook;

A stripling rash who with success,

Of course, can two, three battles wage,

And from the field will straightway ride

And sup at Dresden with the

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