And in thy fall hast ever lost

The priceless charm of woman's shame.

She heeds not shame nor scorn of men:

What now to her the world's repute?

The proud old man oft bends his head,

And lowly lays it on her knee;

Forgets with her the plaguing toil,

The noise and cares of outer world;

Reveals to her, the timid maid,

His hopes and fears, his wily schemes.

But, though she ne'er regrets the past,

At times, a thick and labouring cloud

Creeps o'er and darkens all her soul.

Before her rise the griefful forms

Of father stern and mother pale;

With dimming eyes she sees them there,

Abandoned in their childless age,

And thinks to hear their soft reproach.

Ah, if but now she only knew

The common talk of the Ukraine!

Alas, from her is closely kept

The secret of revenge and crime.

POLTAVA. CANTO THE SECOND.

In gloom Mazeppa sits. His mind

Is tossed with fear of failure's shame.

Marie, with wistful eyes of love,

In silence watches her old man,

Approaching softly, clasps his knee,

And sweet words whispers in his ear.

In vain: no more her love has strength

To chase away his musings dark.

Cold he lowers his absent glance

Before the kneeling maid, nor deigns

Reply to her reproaching look.