She stretches and puts out her hand,

As languidly she murmurs low,

"Mazeppa!" But a voice, not his,

Replies, and, trembling, she looks up,

And what is it she gazes on?

Before her stands her mother.

MOTHER.

Hush!

Or else we are undone! This night

I've hither stolen, and am come

With one, last, sad, beseeching prayer.

To-day he dies. And thou alone

Canst touch or turn their cruel hearts.

Thy father save!

MARIE.

Whose father save?

Who dies?

MOTHER.

Or can it be, till now

Thou hast been ignorant?... But no!

Thou livst with him, art in the world,

Must know how dread the Hetman's sway,

How all his foes before him fall,

And how the Tsar puts trust in him..

I see too well, thy ruined home

Thou hast forgot for Hetman's love!

The sentence dread hath been pronounced,

The death-decree is being read,

The axe is raised above his head,

And thou art sleeping at thy ease!

I see, we are but strangers now.

Marie, arise, run, kiss his feet,

Our angel be, thy father save!

One look from thee will stay the wretch,

And turn aside the falling axe.

Be earnest, urgent in thy prayers!