192 CLASSICAL MODERN POETRY. 



The aged in their silver hair, 



The young in manhood's might, 

 The mother, with her infant care, 



The child in wild affright 

 Forth went they all a pallid band, 



With many an anguish'd start : 

 The chain lay heavy on their hand, 



But heavier on their heart ! 



No sounds disturb' d the desert air, 



But those of bitter woe, 

 Save when at times re-echoed there 



The curses of the foe. 

 When hark ! another cry peal'd out 



A cry of idiot glee, 

 Answer'd and heighten'd by the shout 



Of the fierce soldiery. 



Twas childhood's voice but ah ! how wild, 



How demon-like its swell ! 

 The mother shriek' d to hear her child 



Give forth that soulless yell ! 

 And fathers wrung their fetter'd hands, 



Beneath this maddening woe ; 

 While shouted out those infant bands, 



The chorus of the foe ! 



And curses deep and low were said, 



Whose murmur reach'd to heaven ; 

 And sighs were heaved and tears were shed, 



And woman-hearts were riven j 

 While all forgetful of their woes, 



The children onward trod, 

 And sang * and their young voices rose 



A vengeance-cry to God ! 



* It is said that the Russians intoxicated the children of the con- 

 demned Poles, in order that they might sing while on their way to the 

 mines. 



