The Bakchesarian Fountain and Other Poems

Mute sat Giray, with downcast eye, As though some spell in sorrow bound him,His slavish courtiers thronging nigh, In sad expectance stood around him.The lips of all had silence sealed, Whilst, bent on him, each look observant, Saw grief's deep trace and passion ferventUpon his gloomy brow revealed. But the proud Khan his dark eye raising, And on the courtiers fiercely gazing,Gave signal to them to begone!The chief, unwitnessed and alone, Now yields him to his bosom's smart,Deeper upon...
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Mute sat Giray, with downcast eye, As though some spell in sorrow bound him,His slavish courtiers thronging nigh, In sad expectance stood around him.The lips of all had silence sealed, Whilst, bent on him, each look observant, Saw grief's deep trace and passion ferventUpon his gloomy brow revealed. But the proud Khan his dark eye raising, And on the courtiers fiercely gazing,Gave signal to them to begone!The chief, unwitnessed and alone, Now yields him to his bosom's smart,Deeper upon his brow severe Is traced the anguish of his heart;As full fraught clouds on mirrors clear Reflected terrible appear!What fills that haughty soul with pain? What thoughts such madd'ning tumults cause?With Russia plots he war again? Would he to Poland dictate laws?Say, is the sword of vengeance glancing? Does bold revolt claim nature's right? Do realms oppressed alarm excite?Or sabres of fierce foes advancing?Ah no! no more his proud steed prancing Beneath him guides the Khan to war,-- Such thoughts his mind has banished far.