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"Celui qui remplissait alors cette place, était un gentilhomme Polonais, nommé Mazeppa, né dans le palatinat de Padolie ; il avait été élevé


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 fit 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 pay sans 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.,

“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 la suite, ce conquérant qui n'avait puy monter pendant ta bataille."-VOLTAIRE, Hist. de Charles XII.

P. 216.

“Le roi alla par un autre chemin avec quelques cavaliers. Le carrosse, où il était, rompit dans 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 insupportable 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.

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Twas after dread Pultowa's day,

When fortune left the royal Swede, Around a slaughter'd army lay,

No more to combat and to bleed. The

power and glory of the war, Faithless as their vain votaries, men, Had passed to the triumphant Czar,

And Moscow's walls were safe again, Until a day more dark and drear, And a more memorable year, Should give to slaughter and to shame A mightier host and haughtier name; A greater wreck, a deeper fall, A shock to one--a thunderbolt to all.


Such was the hazard of the die ;
The wounded Charles was taught to fly


By day and night through field and flood,
Stain'd with his own and subjects' blood;
For thousands fell that flight to aid :
And not a voice was heard tupbraid
Ambition in his humbled hour,
When truth had nought to dread from power.
Mis horse was slain, and Gieta gave
His own—and died the Russians' slave.
This too sinks after many a league
Of well sustain'd, but vain fatigue;
And in the depth of forests, darkling
The watch-fires in the distance sparkling --

The beacons of surrounding foes-
A King must lay his limbs at length.

Are these the laurels and repose For which the nations strain their strength ? They laid him by a savage tree, In out-worn nature's agony; His wounds were stiff-his limbs were starkThe heavy hour was chill and dark; The fever in his blood forbade A transient slumber's fitful aid : And thus it was; but yet through all, Kinglike the monarch bore his fall, And made, in this extreme of ill, His pangs the vassals of his will; All silent and subdued were they, As once the nations round him lay.


chiefs !-alas! how few,
the fleeting of a day

Had thinn'd it; but this wreck was true

And chivalrous: upon the clay
Each sate him down, all sad and mute,

Beside his monarch and his steed,
For danger levels man and brute,

And all are fellows in their need.
Among the rest, Mazeppa made
His pillow in an old oak's shade-
Himself as rough, and scarce less old,
The Ukraine's hetman, calm and bold;
But first, outspent with this long course,
The Cossack prince rubb'd down his horse,
And made for him a leafy bed,

And smooth'd his fetlocks and his mane,

And slack'd his girth, and stripp'd his rein, And joy'd to see how well he fed; For until now he had the dread His wearied courser might refuse To browze beneath the midnight dews : But he was hardy as his lord, And little cared for bed and board ; But spirited and docile too; Whate'er was to be done, would do. Shaggy and swift, and strong of limb, All Tartar-like he carried him; Obey'd his voice, and came at call, And knew him in the midst of all: Though thousands were around, -and Night, Without a star, pursued her flight That steed from sunset until dawn His chief would follow like a fawn.

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