edited by Peter Cochran

According to the draft manuscript, Byron started writing Mazeppa on April 2nd 1817, two months before starting Childe Harold IV, and finished it on September 26th 1818 – a long time to be writing such a relatively short poem. The composition of Childe Harold IV, Beppo, and Don Juan I interrupted its progress. Byron seems to have finished it rapidly, for he writes to Murray on September 24th that “[I] have Mazeppa to finish besides”,1 and two days later has done so. He started the first canto of Don Juan on July 3rd 1818 and finished it on September 6th, twenty days before he finished Mazeppa. He started Canto II of Don Juan on December 13th. The overlap would account for the echoes of the later poem which we find in the one started earlier: but Mazeppa is as remarkable for the recollections it contains of previous works – The Prisoner of Chillon being first among them; as well as being unique in Byron’s work by itself. The 1814 Ode to Napoleon Buonaparte had already set up a parallel between Bonaparte and Charles XII of Sweden, Mazeppa’s master; this poem may, in dwelling on the anguish and isolation of Mazeppa himself, be intended as making a further parallel between Byron and Bonaparte. Mary Shelley fair-copied it between September 30th to October 2nd 1818.2 It was published, with the Ode To Venice, and with a prose fragment which upset Hobhouse, on June 28th 1819. Copy-text for this edition is the rough draft, which is the Pierpont Morgan Library, New York, collated with Mary Shelley’s fair copy, which is in the Brotherton Collection at the University of Leeds.

1: BLJ VI 71. 2: See The Journals of Mary Shelley, ed. Betty T. Bennett, I 228.

CELUI qui remplissait alors cette place, était un gentilhomme Polonais, nommé Mazeppa, né

dans le palatinat de Padolie; il avait été élevé page de Jean Casimir, et avait pris à sa cour quelque teinture des belles-lettres. Une intrigue qu’il eut dans sa jeunesse avec la femme d’un gentilhomme Polonais, ayant été découverte, le mari le fie lier tout nu sur un cheval farouche, et le laissa aller en cet état. Le cheval, qui était du pays de l’Ukraine, y retourna, et y porta Mazeppa, demi-mort de fatigue et de faim. Quelque paysans le secoururent: il resta long-tems parmi eux, et se signala dans plusieurs courses contre les Tartares. La supériorité de ses lumières lui donna une grande considération parmi les Cosaques: sa réputation s’augmentant de jour en jour, obligea le Czar à le faire Prince de l’Ukraine. .”—VOLTAIRE, Histoire de Charles XII, p.196.3 “Le roi fuyant et poursuivi eut son cheval tué sous lui; le Colonel Gieta, blessé, et perdant tout sa sang, lui donna le sien. Ainsi on remit deux fois à cheval, dans le suite, ce conquérant qui n’avait puy monter pendant la bataille.”—VOLTAIRE, Histoire de Charles XII, p.216.4 “Le roi alla par un autre chemin avec quelques cavaliers. Le carrosse, où il était, rompit la marche; on le remit à cheval. Pour comble de disgrace, il s’égara pendant la nuit dans un bois; là, son courage ne pouvant plus suppléer à ses forces épuisées, les douleurs de sa blessure devenues plus insupportables par la fatigue, son cheval étant tombé de lassitude, il se coucha quelques heures au pied d’un arbre, en danger d’être surpris à tout moment par les vainqueurs qui le cherchaient de tout côtés.”—VOLTAIRE, Histoire de Charles XII, p.218.5

3: “The one who then filled up that place was a Polish gentleman, named Mazeppa, born in the Palatinate of Padolie; he had been brought up as a page of John Cazimir, and had acquired, at his court, some interest in belles-lettres. A youthful intrigue with the wife of a Polish gentleman having been discovered, the husband caused him to be bound stark naked on the back of a wild horse, and sent him forth in that condition. The horse, which was from the Ukraine, went back there, carrying Mazeppa, half-dead with exhaustion and hunger. Some peasants saved him; he remained a long time in their midst, and distinguished himself in several actions against the Tartars. His evident superiority gained him great respect among the Cossacks; his reputation, daily increasing, obliged the Tzar to make him Prince of the Ukraine.”—VOLTAIRE, Histoire de Charles XII, p.196. 4: “The king, fleeing from pursuit, had his horse killed under him; Colonel Gieta, wounded and losing blood, gave him his. Thus this conqueror, who had not been able to mount during the battle, was twice placed on a horse in its aftermath.”—VOLTAIRE, Histoire de Charles XII, p.216. 5: “The king, with some horsemen, took another route. The coach in which he was placed slowed progress; he was placed on a horse. To crown his humiliation, he got lost in a wood during the night; there, his courage no longer being able to compensate for his loss of strength, the pain of his injury made more insupportable by tiredness, his horse having fallen down from exhaustion, he rested for a few hours at the foot of a tree, in constant danger of being surprised by the victors, who were everywhere looking for him.”—VOLTAIRE, Histoire de Charles XII, p.218.

500. He would never pronounce the word “Kaluga” but called it sometimes “Caligula”. A ball had passed through his heel and lodged behind his toe. Faithless as their vain votaries. A post-Vienna poem.8 And Moscow’s walls were safe again – Until a day more dark and drear.MAZEPPA 1. 13: And not a voice was heard t’upbraid / Ambition in his humbled hour. No more to combat and to bleed.11 The wounded Charles was taught to fly12 – By day and night. and the restoration of all the corrupt regimes he had abolished. During the retreat he was always dejected – his horse not being able to stand on account of the ice. He actually signed eight or ten decrees of advancement or some such things. A shock to One – a thunderbolt to all. and when Beyle took the occasion afterwards to say. Napoleon quite lost himself. blushing Glory. hide Pultowa’s Day . The Vanity of Human Wishes. ’Twas after dread Pultowa’s day. overreached himself and ruined his and their hopes. 9: a more memorable year: 1812.. Byron gets his transliteration in part from Johnson.” and tore the decree and signed another. was defeated by 8: the triumphant Czar: Peter the Great (1672-1725) with a force four times as large. who knew what he meant. Mazeppa is written in the shadow of his final exile on St Helena. who had for Byron and many others appeared to herald a new age. he looked with a horrid grimace. / When Truth had naught to dread from Power: Byron had been told by Stendhal about the continued loyalty of Napoleon’s troops on the retreat from Moscow. on July 8th 1709. which helps to understand Byron’s Charles XII and his defeated troops: Beyle was in waiting on Napoleon on the Russian expedition. sometimes “Salamanca” – his attendants. Men. When Truth had naught to dread from Power.6 When Fortune left the royal Swede7 – Around a slaughtered army lay. he was obliged to get off and walk with a white staff – there is a . and his sense of the battle as a major cataclysm from Voltaire’s Histoire de Charles XII (1731) Livre IV.9 Should give to slaughter and to shame A mightier host and haughtier name – A greater wreck – a deeper fall. when 7: the royal Swede: King Charles XII of Sweden (1682-1718) with a force of 12. and said “Ah yes. “Pompée”. Such was the hazard of the die. “Your Majesty has made a slip of the pen here”.13 15 5 10 20 6: dread Pultowa’s day: the battle of Poltava in southern Russia. The Power and Glory of the war. through field and flood. 11: Such was the hazard of the die: chance actually played less of a part at Poltava than the line would assert. 12: The wounded Charles: Charles XII had been wounded in the foot on June 28th. forcing him to be carried in a litter during the battle. And a more memorable year.10 – 2. Had passed to the triumphant Czar. went on writing or listening without making any remark. Stained with his own and subjects’ blood – For thousands fell that flight to aid.. 210: Hide. After the affair of “Maristudovitch” (or some such name) and when the cavalry was dismounted. And not a voice was heard t’upbraid Ambition in his humbled hour. Here is Hobhouse’s diary account of what he said. 10: A shock to One – a thunderbolt to all: the defeat of Napoleon in Russia in 1812 was the beginning of his downfall – the genius.

that every man was half a fool – and many quite – even the bravest hearts gave way. 15: This too sinks after many a league: as will Mazeppa’s at the end of his “ride”: see 691. The fever in his blood forbade A transient slumber’s fitful aid. In twenty-four hours eighty-four generals of brigade and division came to headquarters weeping and screeching. Once or twice some soldiers cried as he passed. The distress of the army was so great.. Mr de Beyle walked close to him for three hours – then he never spoke a word.-102r. 16: They laid him by a savage tree: remotely suggests Calvary. could not button them again. Davout cried like a child. His wounds were stiff – his limbs were stark – The heavy hour was chill and dark. And made in this extreme of ill His pangs the vassals of his will17 – All silent and subdued were they. “When a man is in misfortune that he takes the white stick”. Are these the laurels and repose For which the Nations strain their strength? – They laid him by a savage tree16 In outworn Nature’s agony. and died the Russians’ slave. 17: . And thus it was – but yet through all.L. “Ah. Voltaire does not record Gieta’s death. – . 56537 110r.His horse was slain. The Prince Major-General Berthier. – 25 30 35 40 French saying. and Gieta gave His own.000 men who were half a day at stool … (B. As once the Nations round him lay. enabling the king – who had been unable to ride during the battle – to escape. Mss.14 This too sinks after many a league15 Of well-sustained but vain fatigue – And in the depths of forests’ darkling – The watchfires in the distance sparkling – The beacons of surrounding foes – A King must lay his limbs at length. and Gieta gave / His own.. Add. Instead of taking this in good part – he said gloomily “Oui messieurs. having pulled down his breeches for his occasions. ma division – ah ma brigade!” A dysentery seized on the army. It is not true the army cried “A bas le manteau!” – on the contrary. who pulled off his gloves to do it. made in this extreme of ill / His pangs the vassals of his will: echoes the speech of the Spirit in the Hall of Arimanes at Manfred. II iv 160-4: Yet see – he mastereth himself – and makes His nature tributary to his will – Had he been one of us he would have made An awful Spirit. everybody thought that his salvation depended on Napoleon – the whole army looked anxiously at him to see in [the] face what hopes he might form. and died the Russians’ slave: Voltaire records (see above. Kinglike the monarch bore his fall. Excelmans. who was dying. Advertisement. voilà les grandeurs humains”. “Ce matin nous fait tuer tous!” He turned round and looked at the speakers – the soldiers burst into tears. second paragraph) that a Colonel Gieta. One of the six or seven people close to him happened to say out loud “Ah. lost the use of one of his fingers instantly – the whole army which at Konigsberg amounted to 45.) 14: His horse was slain. voila l’Empereur qui marche avec le baton blanc”. gave Charles his horse. but the evidence is from Voltaire.

. And knew him in the midst of all. Himself as rough and scarce less old – The Ukraine’s Hetman. – 4. And flints unloosened kept their lock. And slacked his girth. pursued her flight. Thus a renegado. The Cossack Prince rubbed down his horse. but as Peter had started to curtail Cossack privileges. he had gone over to the Swedish side. and Night. and came to call. And made for him a leafy bed. outspent with this long course. His sabre’s hilt and scabbard felt.. And whether they had chafed his belt. and stripped his rein. For until now he had the dread His wearied courser might refuse To browse beneath the midnight dews. of the kind Byron had written about in.1644-1709) had been Cossack Hetman since 1687. But he was hardy as his lord. And joyed to hear how well he fed. upon the clay Each sate him down all sad and mute Beside his monarch and his steed – For danger levels man and brute. Mazeppa spread his cloak. And little cared for bed and board – But spirited and docile too. his monarch and his steed – / For danger levels man and brute: introduces the species-bonding theme which is to dominate the poem. the Hetman was the first among military leaders under the monarch. And laid his lance beneath his oak – Felt if his arms in order good The long day’s march had well withstood – If still the powder filled the pan.20 calm and bold. 20: In Poland and Lithuania. And next the venerable man From out his haversack and can 80 85 18: . Obeyed his voice.3. And chivalrous. 45 50 55 60 65 70 75 This done. Without a star. for example. And smoothed his fetlocks and his mane. 19: Mazeppa: Ivan Stepanovich Mazeppa (c. Peter the Great had made him Prince of the Ukraine. would do. Though thousands were around. Shaggy and swift – and strong of limb – All Tartar-like he carried him..18 And all are fellows in their need. The Siege of Corinth (1816). A band of chiefs – alas! how few Since but the fleeting of a day Had thinned it – but this wreck was true. Among the rest Mazeppa19 made His pillow in an old Oak’s shade. But first. Whate’er was to be done. That Steed from Sunset until dawn His chief would follow like a fawn.

Before our steeds may graze at ease Before the swift Borysthenes23 – And. And I will be the Sentinel Of this your troop. march. none Can less have said or more have done.22 All Scythia’s fame to thine should yield For pricking on o’er flood and field... Mazeppa – on the earth So fit a pair had never birth. Mazeppa refers to it again at 855. your limbs have need of rest. was famously Spartan in his habits. Dalgetty is proud of having fought for Gustavus Adolphus of Sweden. And we have many leagues to go.. or forage.. 24: . See the last line of the poem. – And then he said – “Of all our band. Though firm of heart and strong of hand In skirmish.. As thy Bucephalus and thou. when Casimir was king26 – 90 95 100 105 110 115 120 125 21: And Charles of this his slender share / With smiles partook a moment there: Charles. at this moment from mine eyes / The present hope of Slumber flies: links Charles with such insomniac monarchs as Richard III.21 To force of cheer a greater show. And to the monarch and his men The whole or portion offered then – With far less of inquietude Than courtiers at a banquet would.. The relationship between Mazeppa and his own mount – as opposed to the one he is forced to “ride” in his tale – may have served Scott as model for that between Dugald Dalgetty – the mercenary protagonist of A Legend of Montrose (1819) – and his superbly-trained battle-horse.” – “But I request. 25: . And ten to one at least the foe. And Charles of this his slender share With smiles partook a moment there. Than thee. .” Said Sweden’s monarch – “thou wilt tell This tale of thine.” – Quoth Charles – “Old Hetman. I may reap / Perchance from this the boon of sleep: the plan works. 23: The Borysthenes is the river Dnieper.”25 – “Well. Sire. ’twas. thy Bucephalus and thou: Bucephalus was the horse of Alexander the Great. Since thou hast learned the art so well?” Mazeppa said – “’Twere long to tell.Prepared and spread his slender stock. With every now and then a blow.” Mazeppa answered – “Ill betide “The school wherein I learned to ride. I’ll track My seventy years of memory back. Sire. wherefore so. Henry IV and Macbeth. like “Suwarrow” (Suvorov) in Don Juan VII-VIII. and part of his popularity lay in his refusal to ask his men to endure conditions which he was not prepared to put up with himself. 22: . Since Alexander’s days till now. I think ’twas in my twentieth spring – Aye. and I may reap Perchance from this the boon of sleep24 – For at this moment from mine eyes The present hope of Slumber flies. with such a hope. And seem above both wounds and woe.

As if from heaven he had been sent. A learned monarch. ye may divine. – Not that he had no cares to vex – He loved the Muses and the Sex. – – His wife was not of his opinion. when Casimir was king: John Casimir (1609-1672) was a Jesuit who was proclaimed King of Poland in 1649 and retired in 1670.28 A Count of high and far descent. And dames and chiefs of princely port.. by some confusion led. * And he was proud. 29: His junior she by thirty years: roughly the age-discrepancy between Teresa Guiccioli and her husband. but their affair did not start until April 1819. 83: Where Corydon and Thyrsis meet. being unpensioned. some songs. And boasted that he could not flatter. Even I for once produced some verses. his wrath being o’er. He had such wealth in blood and ore As few could match beneath the throne – And he would gaze upon his store. His junior she by thirty years. A restless dream or two. Where every courtier tried at rhymes. They made him wish himself at war. and did not gain New realms to have them back again – And (save debates in Warsaw’s Diet) He reigned in most unseemly quiet. 27: “Despairing Thyrsis”: standard classical name for a love-lorn shepherd. To Virtue a few farewell tears. made a satire. And o’er his pedigree would pore. and dances – 130 135 140 145 150 155 160 165 170 26: . They first met on January 22nd 1818. L’Allegro. It was a court of jousts and mimes.John Casimir – I was his page Six summers in my earlier age. and fears. faith. He was the Polish Solomon – So sung his poets – all but one – Who. He thought their merits were his own. And then he gave prodigious fêtes – All Warsaw gathered round his gates To gaze upon his splendid court. hopes. And sometimes these so froward are. But soon. Which almost looked like want of head. Rich as a Salt or silver mine. for Byron and Teresa (whose name is that of Mazeppa’s lover) had not fallen in love when Mazeppa was written (April 2nd 1817-September 26th 1818). a weird coincidence. some glances At Warsaw’s youth. Until. And signed my odes “Despairing Thyrsis”. 28: a certain Palatine: a Palatine nobleman had quasi-regal powers and privileges over the territory he held in fief from the actual monarch. And after wishes.. Compare Milton. he took Another mistress – or new book.29 Grew daily tired of his dominion. . was he – And most unlike your Majesty – He made no wars.27 – There was a certain Palatine.

or boys or men.. The memory is so quick and warm. Famous for Mines of Salt.. could they Compare my day and yesterday. and through Warsaw. get thee a wife. cuckolds may inherit eternal bliss. Or at this hour I should not be Telling old tales beneath a tree. or my mind. But smooth. . And thus I should be disavowed By all my kind and kin. With starless skies my canopy. thou art sad.30 But. ’Tis said. 32: . ye know. – To deck her Count with titles given. Who in my dawning time of day. as passports into heaven: compare Don Juan. Those happy accidents which render The coldest dames so very tender. Could vie in vanities with me. And yet I find no words to tell The Shape of her I loved so well. “I was a goodly stripling then – At seventy years I so may say That there were few. they rarely boast Of these who have deserved them most. too. – But let me on – Theresa’s32 form – Methinks it glides before me now. and Yokes of Iron .33 185 190 195 200 205 30: To deck her Count with titles given. gaiety – A port not like to this ye see. Between me and yon chestnut’s bough. No editor is able to find any writer or aphorism. 118-19: Prince. annotating the Don Juan lines. She had the Asiatic eye. as all is rugged now. as passports into heaven.. There is no staff more reverend than one tipped with horn.Awaited but the usual chances. 58 1-2: They journeyed on through Poland. / ’Tis said. both Coleridge and McGann refer to these lines in Mazeppa. long e’er Age Had ta’en my features for his page. Both Coleridge and DJP. None refer to the words of Benedick to Don Pedro at Much Ado About Nothing V iv. Theresa’s form: the spelling with an “h” is common to both manuscripts (Teresa Guiccioli’s Christian name lacked it). Get thee a wife. strange to say. Of vassal or of knight’s degree.31 5. youth. my courage. and care have ploughed My very soul from out my brow. have not declined My strength. 31: Byron’s note to 157: compare Don Juan X. V 154 7-8: To no men are such cordial greetings given / As those whose wives have made them fit for heaven. This change was wrought.. For I had strength. refer to the “horns of salvation” worn by Michaelangelo’s Moses. – With years. and war. 175 180 * This comparison of a “salt mine” may perhaps be permitted to a Pole as the wealth of the country consists greatly in the Salt mines. according to whom or which. For time.

and with a wild and liquid Glance – Heart on her lips. Stanza 45: I like the women too (Forgive my folly!) From the rich peasant-cheek of ruddy Bronze. A brow like a Midsummer lake.. These occur in the Don Juan rough draft without erasure. But clear. Soft as her Clime. but for the Soul Which struggled through and chastened down the whole.which was not desire> / <But would have been. And large black eyes. Byron used them in his description of Donna Julia at Don Juan I 60. And haunted to our very age With the vain shadow of the past – As is Mazeppa to the last. and Sunny as her Skies. And love than either.36 But still we love even in our rage. 36: And such as I am love indeed / In fierce extremes – in good and ill: compare The Giaour. But would have been. 10991102: The cold in clime are cold in blood. When waves no murmur dare to make. Dark as above us is the sky: the description recalls Byron’s Venetian mistress Margarita Cogni.. 34: All love. then through its soft disguise Flashed an expression more of pride than ire.Such as our Turkish Neighbourhood Hath mingled with our Polish blood. and Soul within her eyes. Their love can scarce deserve the name. To the high Dama’s brow. half languor. . Transparent with the Sun therein. and there would arise A Something in them which was not desire. and swimming in the stream Which seemed to melt to its own beam – All love. save for the Soul> / <Which gently chastened down the whole>. But mine is like the lava flood That boils in Ætna’s breast of flame.34 Like Saints that at the Stake expire35 – And lift their raptured looks on high As though it were a joy to die. that flash on you a volley Of rays that say a thousand things at once. – – – 210 215 220 225 230 33: She had the Asiatic eye . 5-8: Her Eye (I’m very fond of handsome eyes) Was large and dark. dark. And Heaven beholds her face within – A cheek and lip – but why proceed? – I loved her then – I love her still – And such as I am love indeed In fierce extremes – in good and ill. perhaps. Dark as above us is the sky – But through it stole a tender light Like the first Moonrise at Midnight – Large. suppressing half its fire Until she spoke. more melancholy. and half fire. and half fire: compare the description of Italian women at Beppo. half languor. 35: At this point in the rough draft occur three erased lines: <And><something .

nor perceived Her occupation. it seems. but none defines – Involuntary sparks of thought Which strike from out the heart o’erwrought. and oh! to see The being whom I loved the most. But on my lips they died again. Until I was made known to her. That she was pensive. Alike mysterious and intense. Her heart. as if her will Yet bound her to the place. There is a Game. 235 240 245 250 255 260 265 270 275 280 37: But on my lips they died again. though not That hers might be the winning lot. Then through my brain the thought did pass. Even as a flash of lightning there. By some strange chance which I forget. and thus it was. But yet she listened – ’tis enough. we gazed. as the electric wire. I recked not if I won or lost. I longed. and was resolved to speak. Who listens once will listen twice. be sure. That there was Something in her air Which would not doom me to despair – But on the thought my words broke forth. 38: There is a Game. And we might then and there confer Without suspicion – then. Conveying. We know not how. young hearts and minds. Without their will. / The accents tremulous and weak: anticipates Don Juan in love with Julia. And form a strange intelligence. – I saw and sighed – in silence wept – And still reluctant distance kept. but still Played on for hours. All incoherent as they were – Their eloquence was little worth.38 Wherewith we wile away the day – It is – I have forgot the name – And we to this.6. A frivolous and foolish play. is not of ice. . were set. even then. the absorbing fire. and yet replied – There are ten thousand tones and signs We hear and see. – I watched her as a Sentinel (May ours this dark night watch as well!) Until I saw. Which link the burning chain that binds. “We met. It was enough for me to be So near to hear. I saw and sighed – She did not speak. The accents tremulous and weak37 – Until one hour. / A frivolous and foolish play: game unnamed because irrelevant. nor was grieved Nor glad to lose or gain.

“For lovers there are many eyes. And had no other gem nor wealth Save nature’s gift of youth and health. but to have found fulfilment solely in warfare. Sire. where happiest.39 I shorten all my joy or pain. I know not that – I would have given My life but to have called her mine In the full view of earth and heaven.And one refusal no rebuff. Or o’er their passions. But could not o’er myself evince The like controul. The happy Page who was the Lord Of one soft heart and his own Sword. My days and nights were nothing – all Except that hour. “I loved. We met in secret – doubly sweet. and the hour Which led me to that Lady’s bower Was fiery Expectation’s dower. some lurking spies Surprized and seized us both. . but to resume – I loved. Who would not be at rest too long. and could lead Them on where each would foremost bleed. In sooth – it is a happy doom. – 285 290 295 300 305 310 315 320 325 39: They tell me. ends in pain. But to his pious bile gave vent – But one fair night. A Chief of thousands. Thus o’er themselves and nations too. But yet. they find it so to meet. No other like itself – I’d give The Ukraine back again to live It o’er once more. They tell me. Sire. For I did oft and long repine That we could only meet by stealth. I am – or rather was – a Prince. and be a Page. or as you. To you ’twould seem absurd as vain. and was beloved again. – We met in secret. the Devil On such occasions should be civil – The Devil – I’m loathe to do him wrong – It might be some untoward Saint. – 8. In the long lapse from youth to age. you never knew Those gentle frailties – if ’tis true. Some say. you never knew / Those gentle frailties: Charles XII seems never to have been afflicted with sexual desire of any orientation. which doth recall. But all men are not born to reign. and was beloved again. 7. And such there were on us.

nor less. he was wild. despite what Voltaire and Byron write. While he was highest of his line.42 ’Twas but a day he had been caught. / With spur and bridle undefiled: the horse upon which the historical Mazeppa was tied was one of his own mounts. far away From city or from succour near. a Saint or two. I. 200. In others’ eyes. – 9. Then loosed him with a sudden lash – 330 335 340 345 350 355 360 365 370 40: Cap-à-pé means “from head to heel”: see Hamlet. ye may opine. And snorting with erected mane And strugging fiercely but in vain. / Wild as the wild-deer. A Tartar of the Ukraine breed. that such a blot His noble Scutcheon should have got. All cap-à-pé from head to heel. but cannot paint.. And he had reason good to be. his rage. and untaught. Nor less amazed. – ’Sdeath! with a Page! – perchance a King Had reconciled him to the thing – But with a stripling of a Page – I felt. that menial throng. but if in steel. “‘Bring forth the horse!’ The horse was brought. and untaught. – An angry man. I did not think to see another – My moments seemed reduced to few. he deemed. he was a noble Steed. Upon his back with many a thong. But he was most enraged lest such An accident should chance to touch Upon his future Pedigree. And. and most in mine. which. And with one prayer to Mary Mother. Who looked as though the Speed of thought Were in his limbs – but he was wild.41 And almost on the break of day. – They bound me on. In truth. To me the Desart-born was led. Because unto himself he seemed The first of men. the proud Count Palatine.40 What ’gainst their numbers could I do? ’Twas near his castle. Theresa’s doom I never knew – Our lot was henceforth separate. In the full foam of wrath and dread.. Wild as the wild-deer. ii. 41: Line 332 is without a rhyme. .The Count was something more than wroth – I was unarmed. Was he. it may be. With spur and bridle undefiled. took him straight home – a short distance. 42: . As I resigned me to my fate – They led me to the Castle Gate.

bridge. Where the weeds and the desolate dust are spread. Perchance they did not hear nor heed. I saw its turrets in a blaze45 – 375 380 385 390 395 400 43: There is not of that castle gate. and the ruin is seem from the viewpoint of the perpetrator. Foe the stream has shrunk from its marble bed. “Away! – Away! – my breath was gone – I saw not where he hurried on – ’Twas scarcely yet the break of day. moat. A moment from that rabble-rout. moat. the perspective is here reversed. or barrier left . Save what grows on a ridge of wall Where stood the hearth-stone of the hall. Byron comments of the self-ruined Don José. The Bat build in his Haram bower. No serf is seen in Hassan’s hall. bridge. but ’midst the tread. Compare Lambro at Don Juan III Stanzas 51-2. The lonely Spider’s thin grey pall Waves slowly widening o’er the wall. The thunder of my courser’s speed.Away! – Away! – and on we dash! – Torrents less rapid and less rash.. writhing half my form about. grim. Howled back my curse. 10. and famine. I paid it well in after days – There is not of that castle gate.43 Stone. With baffled thirst. And in the fortress of his power The Owl usurps the beacon-tower. / Stone.44 And many a time ye there might pass Nor dream that e’er that fortress was. Its drawbridge and portcullis weight.. 44: . and Byron’s own experience. But. And snapped the cord which to the mane Had bound my neck in lieu of rein. Mazeppa’s sufferings allow him to gloat over what he achieved. as recorded at BLJ VI 69.. / Its drawbridge and portcullis weight. The wild-dog howls o’er fountain’s brim. With sudden wrath I wrenched my head. Don Juan I was sent to London in the same packet as Mazeppa.. At Don Juan I 36. bar. It was a trying moment that which found him / Standing alone beside his desolate hearth. And on he foamed – Away – Away! – The last of human sounds which rose As I was darted from my foes Was the wild shout of savage laughter. the hearth-stone of the hall: the destruction of home is an important theme in Byron. Which on the wind came roaring after. but where the desolation in the earlier poem is tragic. Nor of its fields a blade of grass. bar. 4-6. as with the lines previously noted. . Marino Faliero at III ii 361-4. / Where all his household Gods lay shivered round him. as in Homer or Virgil. 287-98: The steed is vanished from the stall. or barrier left. And. This would parallel Leila’s betrayal of Hassan with the Giaour and Theresa’s of the Count with Mazeppa. It vexes me – for I would fain Have paid their insult back again.: recalls the description of Hassan’s destroyed palace at The Giaour.

and Turcoman. in a fiery mass. XII 82. That the fugitive may flee in vain. as on the lightning’s flash. And where the Spahi’s hoof hath trod The Verdure flies the bloody sod. There never yet was human power Which could evade. see Don Juan VII 2. and throng to the van. All human dwellings left behind. While your fellows on foot. Compare The Siege of Corinth 32 and. They bade me to destruction dash. 5-6. where the Spahi’s hoof hath trod / The Verdure flies the bloody sod: the Spahi were Turkish cavalry. 46: . especially. and 397 with 403. Aged or young. and none escape. 47: . They played me there a bitter prank When. save the scarce-seen battlement On distant heights of some stronghold Against the Tartars built of old. When launched. But a wild plain of far extent. to thank The Count for his uncourteous ride. and dim. and Spahi. No trace of man – the year before A Turkish army had marched o’er. . – 11. Bloodstain the breach through which they pass.Their crackling battlements all cleft – And the hot lead pour down like rain From off the scorched and blackening roof. They little thought. the sky. that day of pain. That one day I should come again. We sped like meteors through the sky. The patient search – and vigil long – Of him who treasures up a wrong. / When with its crackling sound the Night / Is chequered with the Northern light: for other references to the Aurora Borealis. “Away! Away! my steed and I. and grey. if unforgiven. skirr the plain. At length I played them one as frank – For Time at last sets all things even. Strike your tents. With twice five thousand horse. And bounded by a forest black And. Whose thickness was not vengeance-proof. And a low breeze crept moaning by 495 410 415 420 425 430 435 440 45: Byron delays some rhymes: line 394 rhymes with 402. spur ye. with the wild horse for my guide.47 The sky was dull... and The Vision of Judgement Stanza 27. When he breaks from the town. in the Christian shape.. 3. They bound me to his foaming flank. Upon the pinions of the wind. Mount ye.. 645-52: Tartar. And if we do but watch the hour. When with its crackling sound the Night Is chequered with the Northern light46 – Town – village – none were on our track.

I saw no bounds on either side. My bonds forbade to loose my hold. He flew upon his far career. We rustled through the leaves like wind – Left shrubs. At times I almost thought. and wolves behind – 445 450 455 460 465 470 475 480 485 490 . And my cold sweat-drops fell like rain Upon the courser’s bristling mane. ’Twas studded with old sturdy trees. and did not tear My limbs. Discoloured with a lifeless red Which stands thereon like stiffened gore Upon the slain when battle’s o’er – And some long Winter’s night hath shed Its frost o’er every tombless head. the Raven’s beak May peck. He must have slackened in his speed – But no – my bound and slender frame Was nothing to his angry Might. Meantime my cords were wet with gore. Or else a different lot were mine. already seared with cold. And merely like a spur became. But fast we fled – Away! Away! – And I could neither sigh nor pray. And in my tongue the thirst became A something fierier far than flame. and trees. and the hardy Pine – But far apart – and well it were. starting to each accent. And. Luxuriant with their annual leaves. ’twas so wide. Ere Strown by those autumnal Eves That nip the forest foliage dead. But. And strips the forest in its haste – But these were few and far between. “We neared the wild wood. and I found strength to bear My wounds. indeed. And here and there the Chestnut stood. unpierced each frozen cheek: ’Twas a wild waste of Underwood. But yet he swerved as from a blow. That bent not to the roughest breeze Which howls down from Siberia’s waste. The strong Oak. Set thick with shrubs more young and green. snorting still with rage and fear. Which oozing through my limbs ran o’er. So cold and stark. sprang As from a sudden trumpet’s Clang. The boughs gave way.I could have answered with a sigh. – 12. I tried my voice – ’twas faint and low. Each motion which I made to free My swoln limbs from their agony Increased his fury and affright.

fiercer still. Than through the forest paths he past – Untired – untamed – and worse than wild.. who has her will: a rare example of Byron nudging the reader by making a metaphor into a simile (horse = woman). fear. . destroying many a foe! When first my courser’s race begun. The tortures which beset my path. At day-break winding through the wood. who has her will. I seemed to sink upon the ground. fiercer still. But chill the air. distress. or. / A Woman piqued. hunger. Where’er we flew they followed on. Nor faster falls the blinding Snow Which whelms the peasant near the door Whose threshold he shall cross no more. All furious as a favoured child Balked of its wish.48 – 13. And trodden hard upon. although in June. if it must be so. Cold. and Hunter’s fire. The wood was past – ’twas more than Noon. 495 500 505 510 515 520 525 530 535 540 48: . And I was then. scarce a rood. and wrath. And wore my feelings out before I well could count their causes o’er. At bay. Nor left us with the morning Sun. not what I seem. Bewildered with the dazzling blast. which can tire The hound’s deep hate.By night I heard them on the track – Their troop came hard upon our back With their long gallop. But headlong as a wintry stream. But erred. When stirred beyond its calmer mood. And through the night had heard their feet Their stealing. for I was fastly bound. At least to die amidst the horde And perish. A Woman piqued. the skies rolled round. is like The rattle-Snake’s in act to strike – What marvel if this outworn trunk Beneath its woes a moment sunk? The earth gave way. shame. rustling step repeat – Oh! how I wished for spear or sword. And what with fury.. Behind I saw them. Thus bound in Nature’s nakedness – Sprung from a race whose rising blood. I wished the goal already won – But now I doubted Strength and Speed – Vain doubt! his swift and Savage breed Had nerved him like the mountain roe. Sorrow. Or it might be my veins ran cold – Prolonged Endurance tames the bold.

And numb. My blood reflowed.H. though thick and chill. 51: I felt as on a plank at sea. I 216-17: Alas! said she. But a confusion worse than such – I own that I should deem it much Dying to feel the same again. 14.. providentially for him. he who dies / Can die no more than then I died: compare The Prisoner of Chillon. Part 19. neither of whom has entered into the bond willingly. this ghastly ride – / Dear lady! it hath wildered you! Vampire-Geraldine’s relationship with the bewitched Christabel is quite different from that between Mazeppa and his enforced steed. At last. See below. And throb by throb. 50: O’ertortured by that ghastly ride: E. wading.51 My undulating life was as The fancied lights that flitting pass Our shut eyes in deep Midnight – when Fever begins upon the brain.Coleridge and McGann compare the crocodile words of Geraldine at Coleridge’s Christabel. And strove to wake. half Senseless. Which saw no farther – he who dies Can die no more than then I died. scrambling. he Rolled on the beach. was washed Just as his feeble Arms could strike no more.. And a slight flash sprang o’er my eyes. 227-8: I know not why / I could not die .. and sore The Waters beat while he thereto was lashed. and giddy – pulse by pulse Life reassumed its lingering hold. then beat no more – The Skies spun like a mighty wheel. till grown a pang. And the hard wave o’erwhelmed him as ’twas dashed Within his grasp. / When all the waves that dash o’er thee / At the same time upheave and whelm / And hurl thee towards a desart realm: compare Don Juan II Stanza 107 (soon to be written): Nor yet had he arrived but for the Oar. I felt as on a plank at sea. he clung to it.50 I felt the blackness come and go. “My thoughts came back – where was I? – cold.. My ear with uncouth noises rang – 545 550 555 560 565 570 575 49: . from the Sea . and now. And yet I do suppose we must Feel far more ere we turn to dust. Mazeppa’s torture will eventually be relieved by a woman’s tenderness.49 O’ertortured by that ghastly ride. Which. with little pain. as in Juan’s case.. I saw the trees like drunkards reel. When all the waves that dash o’er thee At the same time upheave and whelm And hurl thee towards a desart realm. But soon it passed. but could not make My senses climb up from below. And throbbed awhile.My heart turned sick – my brains grew sore.. No matter – I have bared my brow Full in death’s face – before. with swimming. Which for a moment would convulse. note. .

alas! And thickened as it were with Glass. 393-394: How long in that same fit I lay. Sure I had drunken in my dreams. And with a temporary strength My stiffened limbs were rebaptized52 – My Courser’s broad breast proudly braves And dashes off the ascending waves And onward we advance! We reach the slippery shore at length – A haven I but little prized. 53: How many hours of night or day / In those suspended pangs I lay / I could not tell: E.My heart began once more to thrill – My Sight returned. though dim. I scarcely knew53 If this were human breath I drew. I have not to declare. I dreamt that they were filled with dew. referring instead to “201-2”.54 – 580 585 590 595 600 52: The waters broke my hollow trance. / And with a temporary strength / My stiffened limbs were rebaptized: McGann compares the revivifying effect which water has at Coleridge. For all behind was dark and drear. it rained. V Stanzas 2-3: The silly buckets on the deck. or years. My lips were wet. but gets the line-numbering wrong. And reeling limb. The wild steed’s sinewy nerves still strain Up the repelling bank. And when I awoke. My garments all were dank. or days – I kept no count – I took no note. That had so long remained. I had no hope my eyes to raise And clear them of their dreary mote. Methought the dash of waves was nigh – There was a gleam too of the sky. “With glossy skin. . The Rime of the Ancient Mariner. The Rime of the Ancient Mariner. my throat was cold. McGann tries to follow him. And all before us Night and fear. And still my body drank.H. And we are halfway struggling o’er To yon unknown and silent shore – The waters broke my hollow trance. at The Prisoner of Chillon 366369: It might be months. How many hours of night or day In those suspended pangs I lay I could not tell. – 15. and dripping mane.Coleridge compares Coleridge. Byron had already used the idea of time which suffering has made irrelevant. Studded with stars – it is no dream – The Wild Horse swims the wilder stream! The bright broad river’s gushing tide Sweeps winding onward far and wide. and reeking flank.

now. deaf to the rider’s cries and trembling. the mane flutters on the bristling neck. it swims up to the belly . ed il candido seno. Byron may have been studying Foscolo’s work in 1817. Già dal lito si slancia sordo ai clamori e al fremito. And here and there a speck of white. No twinkling taper from afar – Stood like a hospitable Star – Not even an ignis fatuus rose To make him merry with my Woes56 – 605 610 615 620 54: “With glossy skin.. The sexual power of Foscolo’s imagery in Luigia Pallavicini would not have escaped his attention. now. To stretch beyond the sight. suonan gli antri marini allo incalzato scalpito della zampa che caccia polve e sassi in sua traccia. / Its glances burn.55 But nought distinctly seen In the dim waste would indicate The omen of a cottage gate. and pale bosom. In masses broke into the light. 83: The Sun now rose upon the right . the sea-caves resound to the frenzied beating hoof which throws up dust and stones from its track. agita l’ardua testa. onward. The Rime of the Ancient Mariner.. e i crini sul collo irti svolazzano. and covers the rider’s flying skirts. ed i manti volubili lorda. accresce impeto al corso.We gain the top – a boundless plain Spreads through the shadow of the night. for the bit. And onward. / Already it throws itself from the shore. 56: Not even an ignis fatuus rose / To make him merry with my Woes: one of Byron’s favourite images rendered still more striking by negative use: Mazeppa doesn’t even have a will-o’-the-wisp to cheer . Or scattered spot of dusky Green. and used his 1807 poem Dei Sepolcri as a massive subtext to Childe Harold IV.. the proud heads shakes. As rose the Moon upon my right.. and dripping mane. Ardon gli sguardi. chafing it. foam flies. onward seems. for he met Foscolo’s friend Pindemonte. each celestial body having as little effect on the protagonist’s agony as the other. vola la spuma. Like precipices in our dreams. e l’incerto freno.] Luigia Pallavicini – seriously injured in the riding accident – had been Foscolo’s lover. / And reeling limb. gave greater impulse to its flight. fuma la bocca. già già fino all pancia nuota . / sweat pours down.. and insecure bridle. e il sudor piove. the winds froze the dusty chest and burning haunches of the restless Pegasus. / The wild steed’s sinewy nerves still strain / Up the repelling bank: the repetition and physicality here may owe something to Ugo Foscolo’s 1799 poem A Luigia Pallavicini caduta da cavallo: Invan presaghi i venti il polveroso agghiacciano petto e le reni ardenti dell’inquieto alipede. 55: As rose the Moon upon my right: McGann compares Coleridge.. its mouth steams. [Foreseeing in vain. and reeking flank.

VIII 32. Although no Goal was nearly won. he came! Methought that mist of dawning grey 625 630 635 640 645 him up. His new born tameness nought availed – My limbs were bound – my force had failed. had they been free: With feeble effort still I tried To rend the bonds so starkly tied. The dizzy race seemed almost done. Perchance. welcome still. Of the abodes of men: – 16. and The Deformed Transformed I i 477 plus following stage direction. But still it was in vain – My limbs were only wrung the more. The drooping courser faint and low All feebly foaming went – A sickly infant had had power To guide him forward in that hour – But useless all to me. Werner III iii 40. Reminding me. The Prisoner of Chillon 34-35. Although detected. Don Juan VII 46 5-8. The Vision of Judgement 105. 5-6. 5-8 and XV 54 6. And soon the idle strife gave o’er. Which but prolonged their pain. XI 27. . 4-5. “Onward we went. His savage force at length o’erspent. Manfred I i 195. alas. For other examples. through every ill. but slack and slow.That very cheat had cheered me then. see To a Youthful Friend (CPW I 221) 68. Some streaks announced the Coming Sun – How slow.

And cried. an Insect’s shrill small horn: both E.58 Nor matin bird’s new voice was borne From herb nor thicket. 7. 60: I strove to cry – my lips were dumb: McGann compares the much more lurid effect of Coleridge.57 Which lay around. many a verst. Lycidas. 28: What time the grey-fly winds her sultry horn .. And not an Insect’s shrill small horn.59 Panting as if his heart would burst. “Up rose the Sun. the Mists were curled / Back from the solitary world: McGann compares the more relentless Coleridge. many a verst: a verst is a Russian measure. 17. No sign of travel – none of toil – The very air was mute. See Don Juan VII 9. at The Rime of the Ancient Mariner. with black lips baked.Coleridge and McGann compare Milton.. At length. III Stanza 4: With throats unslaked. 58: . nor print of foot. while reeling on our way. and on the left Went down into the sea. We could nor laugh nor wail. and flying mane. a sail! . before – What booted it to traverse o’er Plain. 59: . the Mists were curled Back from the solitary world. The weary brute still staggered on..H. river? Man nor brute. And filled the Earth deep from his throne With lonely lustre all his own. Through utter drought all dumb we stood! I bit my arm.Would never dapple into day – How heavily it rolled away Before the Eastern flame Rose crimson. or seemed. Methought I heard a courser neigh From out yon tuft of blackening firs. And still we were.. Lay in the wild luxuriant soil.. Nor dint of hoof. 650 655 660 665 670 675 680 57: “Up rose the Sun. I sucked my blood. and deposed the Stars. 83-5: The Sun now rose upon the right: Out of the sea came he.. I see them come – In one vast squadron they advance – I strove to cry – my lips were dumb60 – The steeds rush on in plunging pride. Wide nostrils never stretched by pain. equivalent to two-thirds of a mile. Is it the wind those branches stirs? – No – no – from out the forest prance A trampling troop. A sail. alone. at The Rime of the Ancient Mariner. forest. behind. And called the radiance from their Cars. But where are they the reins to guide? A thousand horse and none to ride! – With flowing tail. Still hid in mist.

And feet that iron never shod. As if our faint approach to meet.” quoth Jaques. Full of the pasture.. Among the stones I stood – a Stone. Headed by one black mighty Steed. 52-7: Anon. But vacancy – absorbing space. And flanks unscarred by spur or rod – A thousand horse – the wild – the free. jumps along by him And never stays to greet him.. With gasps and glazing eyes he lay. II I. wheel round and round. – They snort – they foam – neigh – swerve aside. and grey. you fat and greasy citizens. Then plunging back with sudden bound. Who seemed the Patriarch of his breed. the Patriarch of his breed: compare the ram at Don Juan III 32. And then of darkness too. . 62: They snort – they foam – neigh – swerve aside. And was – scarce conscious what I wist – As shrubless Crags within the mist.Mouths bloodless to the bit or rein. no feeling – none.62 – – – They left me there. For all was blank. It was not night – it was not day – It was not even the dungeon-light So hateful to my heavy sight. And backward to the forest fly By instinct from a human eye. The sight re-nerved my courser’s feet – A moment staggering. I had no thought. described as The patriarch of the flock . a careless herd. Like Waves that follow o’er the Sea Came thickly thundering on. and then fell. Part 9: What next befell me then and there I know not well – I never knew. / And backward to the forest fly / By instinct from a human eye: the idea may be from the description of Jacques and the wounded deer at As You Like It. “Aye. and bleak. ’Tis just the fashion. “Sweep on. retire.63 685 690 695 700 705 61: .. to my despair.. feebly fleet.61 Without a single speck or hair Of white upon his shaggy hide. A moment with a faint low neigh He answered. First came the loss of light and air. Wherefore do you look Upon that poor and broken bankrupt there?” 63: can be compared with the similar picture of terminal isolation and despair described in The Prisoner of Chillon. And reeking limbs immoveable – His first and last career is done! On came the troop – they saw him stoop – They saw me strangely bound along His back with many a bloody thong – They stop – they start – they snuff the air – Gallop a moment here and there – Approach.

– The Wretch still hopes his woes must end. Your loop’d and window’d raggedness.64 – – And there from Noon till Twilight bound I felt the heavy hours toil round. Yet shunned and dreaded with such care. Wassail. and nought to leave. Yet a still dark and hideous Close To even intolerable woes. A Sea of stagnant Idleness Blind – boundless – mute – and motionless. or calmer. nor death. The dying on the dead. helpless head. And save the future (which is viewed Not quite as men are base or good. 64: my houseless. even a boon. defend you From such seasons as these? . Appears to his distempered eyes Arrived to rob him of his prize. I little deemed another day Would see my houseless. But as their nerves may be endued) With nought perhaps to grieve. And welcome in no shape. For he who hath in turn run through All that was beautiful and new Hath nought to hope. In hopeless certainty of mind That makes us feel at length resigned To that which our foreboding Years Presents the worst and last of fears Inevitable. than he Whose Heritage was Misery. oft. the Sons of pleasure – They who have revelled beyond measure In Beauty. The tree of his new Paradise. At times sought with self-pointed sword. Relieved from that unwonted weight From whence I could not extricate Nor him nor me – and there we lay. As if it only were a snare That Prudence might escape: At times both wished-for and implored. And. There were no stars – no earth – no time – No check – no change – no good – no crime – But Silence – and a stirless breath Which neither was of life. With just enough of life to see My last of Suns go down on me. Wine and Treasure – Die calm. And Death. strange to say.Linked to the dead and stiffening wretch Whose lifeless limbs beneath me stretch. whom he should deem his friend. helpless head: would parallel Mazeppa with the beggars on whose behalf Lear prays at III iv 30-2: How shall your houseless heads and unfed sides. – – 710 715 720 725 730 735 740 745 750 And fixedness – without a place. Nor more unkind for coming soon.

And once so near me he alit I could have smote. “The Sun was sinking. 175-6: .Tomorrow would have given him all. But each time nearer than before. Who scarce would wait till both should die Ere his repast begun.Coleridge (but not McGann) compares the shadow cast by the Death Ship at Coleridge. I cast my last looks up the sky. I thought to mingle there our clay. Tomorrow would have given him power – To rule – to shine – to smite – to save – And must it dawn upon his Grave? – 18. but lacked the strength – But the slight motion of my hand. And feeble scratching of the sand – My exerted throat’s faint struggling noise – Which scarcely could be called a voice – Together scared him off at length. and long. The Rime of the Ancient Mariner. Guerdon of many a painful hour. and sparks that crossed my brain – A gasp – a throb – a start of pain – A sigh.H. I saw his wing through twilight flit. dense Sensation of recurring Sense. swimming. And then again a little breath – A little thrill – a short suspense – An icy sickness curdling o’er My heart. And my dim eyes of death had need – No hope arose of being freed. And of the cold. And there between me and the Sun65 I saw the expecting Raven fly. But bright. and nothing more. .. 755 760 765 770 775 780 785 790 795 65: And there between me and the Sun / I saw the expecting Raven fly: E. He flew – and perched – then flew once more. And went and came with wandering beam. Repaid his pangs – repaired his fall – Tomorrow would have been the first Of days no more deplored and curst.. that strange shape drove suddenly / Betwixt us and the Sun. dull. and beckoning years Seen dazzling through the mist of tears. And then subsiding back to death. I know no more – my latest dream Is something of a lovely star Which fixed my dull eyes from afar. Chained to the chill and stiffening steed. Still I lay.

and untaught. And is it mortal. methought He still was in the boat. Sate watching by the cottage wall. A Tartar of the Ukraine breed. the Vulture’s feast: the Raven (770) has been demoted. 800 805 810 815 820 825 66: Part 19 resembles the meeting of Juan and Haidee in Don Juan Canto II. For all was doubt and dizziness.67 But that I lived. Here is Stanza 112 of the Canto: His eyes he opened. long-haired and tall.. glance on me With her black eyes so wild and free. And then her hand on mine she laid. Who looked as though the Speed of thought Were in his limbs – but he was wild. Here are lines 359-64 again: In truth. / I gazed and gazed – until I knew / No vision it could be: part of Mazeppa’s amazement may be owing to the fact that the Tartar girl reminds him of the horse to which he has been tied for most of the last two days. The Sparkle of her eye I caught Even with my first return of thought. 67: For ever and anon she threw / A pitying. For ever and anon she threw A pitying. Wild as the wild-deer. With spur and bridle undefiled . till my strength should be Enough to leave my accents free. . he was a noble Steed. As doubtful that their former trance Could not as yet be o’er. and had but dozed. Signs that said I must not strive as yet to break The silence. I gazed and gazed – until I knew No vision it could be. And slowly by his swimming eyes were seen A lovely female face of Seventeen. and was released From adding to the Vulture’s feast.66 “I woke – where was I? – do I see A human face look down on me? And doth a roof above me close? Do these limbs on a couch repose? Is this a chamber where I lie.. And felt again with his despair o’erwrought. And then once more his Feelings back were brought. But failed – and she approached. again unclosed. glance on me / With her black eyes so wild and free. although no romantic involvement is suggested between Mazeppa and the Cossack maid. yon bright eye. That watches me with gentle glance? I closed my eyes again once more. And wished it death in which he had reposed.. shut. 68: .. And smoothed the pillow for my head. prying. The horse’s soul may have transmigrated into the body of his new protectress. A slender Girl. She smiled – and I essayed to speak.68 – And when the Cossack Maid beheld My heavy eyes at length unsealed. And stole along on tiptoe tread.19. prying. and made With lip and finger.

And looked upon the Lady. 20. They bore me to the nearest hut. that all Were near at my command. in whose cheek The Pale contended with the Purple Rose. in good modern Greek. As with an effort She began to speak. Whence Melody descends as from a throne. and must not talk but eat. simpler Music ne’er was heard. Her Eyes were eloquent. and never Had I such welcome for a river As I shall yield when safely there – 830 835 840 845 850 855 69: spake / In whispers – ne’er was voice so sweet! / Even Music followed her light feet: compare the feelings of Don Juan when he awakens at Canto II Stanzas 150-151. bleeding. That he was faint. Another look on me she cast. Sent me forth to the Wilderness Bound. and alone To pass the desart to a throne – What Mortal his own doom may guess? Let none despond – let none despair – Tomorrow the Borysthenes May see our coursers graze at ease Upon his Turkish banks. to say That I had naught to fear. so sweet. “She came with Mother and with Sire70 – What need of more? I will not tire With long recital of the rest. And she went forth. but he had an ear. And her voice was the warble of a bird. . Now Juan could not understand a word. The sort of sound we echo with a tear. or call. And she would not delay Her due return: – while she was gone.And gently oped the door. and spoke In whispers – ne’er was voice so sweet! Even Music followed her light feet. Methought I felt too much alone.69 But those she called had not awoke. refining on my pain. to find Haidee looking at him: And thus upon his Elbow he arose. her words would pose. Being no Grecian. That finer. whose mother is dead and whose father is taken – erroneously – to be so. Since I became the Cossack’s guest – They found me senseless on the plain. So soft. Without knowing why – an overpowering tone. so delicately clear. Although She told him. naked. but e’er she passed. With an Ionian Accent low and sweet. 70: She came with Mother and with Sire: unlike Haidee. They brought me into life again – Me – one day o’er their realm to reign. – Thus the vain fool who strove to glut His rage. Another sign she made.

A bed nor comfortless nor new To him. he wondered not – The King had been an hour asleep. no matter where. His eyes the hastening slumbers steep – And if ye marvel Charles forgot To thank his tale. 860 865 . who took his rest whene’er The hour arrived.Comrades – Good Night!” – the Hetman threw His length beneath the oak-tree shade With leafy couch already made.

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