he foolish crowd,
But in it wise men do with fear confess,
A voice that crieth for revenge to Heaven.

The winds blew on that dreadful fire apace,
The knights marched further to the heart of Litwa.
Report says Kowno, Wilna, are besieged.
Then ceased report, and couriers came no more.
No longer in the region flames were seen,
But further off the heaven's ruddy blaze.
In vain the Prussians look with eager hope,
For spoils and prisoners of the conquered land;
In vain despatch swift couriers for the news,
The couriers hasten--and return no more.
As each this cruel doubt interpreteth,
He willingly would know despair itself.

The autumn passed away. The winter's snows
Revelled upon the mountains, block the ways.
Once more upon the distant heaven shine--
Midnight auroras? or the fires of war?
And ever nearer comes the light of flames,
And nearer yet the heaven's ruddy blaze.

From Marienbourg the folk look on the road;
They see afar--grovelling through deepest snows,
Some travellers!--Konrad! And our generals!
How welcome them? Victors? or fugitive?
Where are the others? Konrad raised his hand,
And pointed further off a scattered crowd,
Alas! their very aspect told the secret!
They rush in disarray, plunge in the snowdrifts;
Roll each on each, down treading like vile insects,
Within a narrow vessel perishing;
They push o'er corpses, ever newer crowds,
Hurl those new risen down again to earth.
Some drag still onward chilled and stiffened limbs,
Some on the march have frozen to the road;
But with raised hands the corpses standing point
Straight to the town, like pillars on the way.

The townsfolk, terror-stricken, curious ran,
Fearing to guess the truth they dared not ask;
For all the story of that luckless war
They in the warriors' eyes and faces read
For o'er their eyes hung death in frosty shape,
And Famine's harpy hollowed out their cheeks.
Now are the trumpets of the Litwin heard,
Now rolls the storm, snow whirlwinds o'er the plain;
Far off a multitude of gaunt dogs howls,
And overhead the ravens hover round.

All perished! Konrad has destroyed them all!
He, that once reaped such glory with the sword,
He, for his prudence formerly renowned,
Timid and careless in this latter war,
Marked not the cunning snares that Witold laid;
Deceived and blinded by the wish of vengeance,
Driving his army on the Litwin steppes,
Wilna thus long in sluggard guise besieged.
When plunder and provisions were consumed,
Whe