Duma or Elegy to the Hetman John Swiergowski

Anonymous translation

  WHEN the Hetman John Swiergowski

    To the Turks became a prey;

  There they slew the gallant chieftain,

    They cut off his head that day.

Their trumpets they blew, and his head on a spear

They set, and they mocked him with jest and with jeer.

  Yonder see a cloud descending,

    Ravens gathering on the plain,

  Gloom above Ukrania spreading;

    She mourns and weeps her hetman slain;

Then fierce o’er the wide plain the mighty winds blew,

“O, answer, what did ye with our hetman do?”

  Then black eagles soared past, screaming,

    “Where did you make our hetman’s grave?”

  And larks rose up to heaven streaming,

    “Where did ye leave our hetman brave?”

“Where by Kilia’s fair city the tomb stands high,

On the Turkish line doth your hetman lie.”