I
'Twas after dread Pultowa's[124] 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, 5
Faithless as their vain votaries, men,
Had pass'd to the triumphant Czar,
And Moscow's walls were safe again,
Until a day more dark and drear,[125]
And a more memorable year, 10
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.