“For love of God,
Ask thou no tidings!—Listen, my beloved!
Listen, and weigh with carefulness each word,
The foes have perished. Dost thou see these fires?
Thou see’st? ’Tis Litwa’s havoc with the Germans.
A hundred years heal not the Order’s wounds,
I smote the hundred-headed monster’s heart.
Their treasures wasted, well-springs of their power,
Their towns in flames, a sea of blood has flowed,—
I caused all this! I have fulfilled my vows!
More fearful vengeance hell might not conceive.
I will no more of it—I am a man!
I spent my youth in foul hypocrisy,
In bloody, murders. Now, bent down with age,
Wearied of treasons, I am unfit for war.
Enough of vengeance. Germans, too, are men!
God has enlightened me. I come from Litwa,
And I have seen those places, seen thy castle,
The Kowno castle,—now it lies in ruin.
I turned away, urged thence my rapid course;
And hurried to that valley, our own valley.
All was as formerly! Those woods, those flowers!
All as it was upon that very eve,
When to the valley breathed we long farewell.
Alas! it seems to me but yesterday!
That stone—rememberest thou that high-raised stone
Once of our rambles limit made and end?
It standeth now, though overgrown with moss;
Scarce might I view it, hidden thus in green.
I tore the herb off, watered it with tears.
That grassy seat, where, through the summer noon,
Thou didst among the maples love to rest;
That spring, whose waters then I sought for thee—
I found them all, looked on them, passed around.
And even thy little arbour still remains,
As with dry willow-twigs I fenced it in;
And those dry twigs, a wonder, my Aldona,
That once I planted in the barren sand,
To-day thou wouldst not know them—lovely trees,
And the light leaves of spring upon them wave,
And on them grows the youthful catkin’s down.
Oh! seeing these, a blessing all unknown,
Foreshadowing of joy, revived my heart;
The trees embracing, on my knees I fell
O God! I cried, grant all may be fulfilled!
Oh! may we, to our Fatherland restored,
When dwelling in our Litwa’s native fields,
Again revive to life; may leaves of hope
Again o’erdeck with green our destiny.
Let us return! consent! I rule the Order;
I will bid open. But what need commands?
For were this door a thousand times more hard
Than steel, I’d beat it down—I’d pluck it up;
And thee, O my beloved, to our valley,
There will I lead thee, raise thee with my hand.
Or go we further still? Litwa has deserts;
There lie deep shades in woods of Bialowiez,
Where never rings the clang of foreign swords,
Nor sounds the haughty victor’s signal-word—
No, nor the groanings of our vanquished brothers.
There, in the midst of silent, pastoral joy,
And in thine arms, and on thy bosom, let me
Forget that there are nations in the world;
Or any worlds; we for ourselves will live—
Return, oh! speak, consent!”
Aldona spoke not;
And Konrad, silent, waited yet reply:
Meanwhile the blood-red dawn shone forth in heaven.
“O God! Aldona, morning is before us,
And men will wake: the guard arrest us here.
Aldona!”—called he, trembling with despair.
No voice was his; beseeching with his eyes,
He lifted to the tower his claspèd hands,
Fell on his knees, and pity to entreat,
Embraced and kissed the walls of that cold tower.