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54
VISION OF THE HEROES OF POLAND.
Dripping yet with river dew
Poniatowski stalks in view,
Emerging into heaven's light
From the whelming billow's night.
Poniatowski stalks in view,
Emerging into heaven's light
From the whelming billow's night.
A giant form its bulk uprears,
Sobieski's self appears,
With sword all scabbardless advancing
On the courser wildly prancing.
Sobieski's self appears,
With sword all scabbardless advancing
On the courser wildly prancing.
And where the massive clouds soar higher,
Girt with quivering tongues of fire
Gleams a throne—and there is seen
A Shape of high imperial mien.
Girt with quivering tongues of fire
Gleams a throne—and there is seen
A Shape of high imperial mien.
Gazing on the martial swarms,
With little hat and folded arms
There He stands, sublime alone,
From that dark height looking on.
With little hat and folded arms
There He stands, sublime alone,
From that dark height looking on.
Thunderstorms beneath are tossing,
Lightnings wildly intercrossing,
The advent of the tempest telling
Nearer still, and nearer swelling.
Lightnings wildly intercrossing,
The advent of the tempest telling
Nearer still, and nearer swelling.