3. TO THE POET.
Thou haughty must be as a banner;
Thou tempered must be as a blade;
Thy face must in heaven-like manner
As Dante's, with flame be arrayed.
Of all thou shalt witness be, coldly,
While fathoming all with thy gaze.
And this shall thy virtue be: boldly
To tread where the pyre is ablaze.
Perchance that all life was created
For shaping of resonant airs;
Then seek thou how words may be mated,
From childhood that knows not of cares.
In moments of love-warm caresses
All passion within thee constrain;
And 'mid the rack's ruthless distresses
Belaud thou the raptures of pain.
Track, dreaming what Fate thee presages
At morn or in evening's deep hour;
And mark, how the poets through ages
Took garlands of thorns as their dower.
POLAND.
O sister mine, unknown to me,
Whom yet I loved since long ago!
Westward from Poland's pyre I see
A kindred flame is set aglow.
