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POETRY OF THE COSSACKS.

CONDENSED REVIEW.

the thirteenth century. The necessity of flight to prePOETRY OF THE COSSACKS. serve life was the origin of Cossackism-Cossack still. THE March number of that splendid periodical, the meaning in the east an independent warrior. There American Eclectic, contains among its selections an were Cossacks of the Don and those of the Dnieper. article on the History and Literature of the Cossacks. From the first were derived the various branches of the It exhibits the Cossack in an aspect of surpassing eastern Cossacks-from the second sprung the people of interest. It was already known that this rude, half Little Russia, or the Ukraine. They were also divided savage people, have a literature, and that their genius into married and unmarried-the former being known is poetical; but the writer was not aware, until the dis-as Cossacks of Ukraine, the latter as Zaporogues. closure was made by this article, that their poetry indi-Those of Ukraine spread northwards; settling desert cates genius of the highest order, and sheds a moral regions and multiplying, they are now known as the splendor on their name. It is affecting to receive these inhabitants of Little Russia. As to the Zaporogues, evidences of the dignity of the human mind, which, they possessed a savage grandeur of character. even amidst a people of whom until recently we scarcely knew any thing, but that they were semi-barbarous, and seemed likely to remain so till the millennium, is revealed in shades perfectly, and I had almost said divinely beautiful and attractive.

The article before us is from the Foreign Quarterly, and is a review of "Songs of Ukraine, published by Maxymowicz, at Moscow, 1834;" or if the reader would see the title in its home dress

Both the Zaporogues and Little Russians were, in the fourteenth century, the subjects of Poland. Their revolt was provoked principally by the Jesuits and the Jews. The Cossacks butchered these disturbers of their religion, and a war of one hundred years followed. The partition of Poland ensued, and involved the combatants in one common misfortune. The reviewer proceeds:

"It is impossible to sketch here the history of the “Piesni Ukrainskie, wydane przez P. Maxymowicz, Ukraine, so interesting in every point of view; but our w Moskwie, 1834." readers may easily conceive that an infinite variety of The review commences with the middle ages, and characters and richness of color must be its distinguishpresents the Cossacks as a confederacy of warriors,ing features. Let them but recollect the concluding perfectly militant in their habits, who won their name chapters of the history of ancient Russia, and think of of reproach (Cossacks being equivalent, in the opinion the savage warriors of Gengiskan pitching their tents of mankind, to that of robbers and savages) from the under the walls of the majestic temples of Kiow, while bold and persevering prowess with which they defended the desponding fugitives gathered on the islands of the their religion and their homes. Dnieper, amidst marshes covered with impenetrable thickets, and surrounded by caverns and glassy lakes. Again, let them call to mind their hold navigation, daring even to madness; their adventurous expeditions both on land and water, guided only by the flight of birds, the current of winds, and the aspect of the stars; let them figure to themselves the appearance on the

To Polewoy, a Russian, and Gnorowski, a Polish writer, the reviewer is principally indebted for his historical facts. The sketch informs us that the vast region between the Lower Don and the Lower Dnieper was from remote antiquity traversed by erratic tribes, and that even so late as the 16th century, traveling was as unsafe in those regions as it now is among the Be-banks of the Dnieper of the Lithuanian Dukes, Olgerd douin Arabs.

For one whole century the Tartars persevered in the invasion of southern Russia. Gnorowski, the Polander, thus describes the attendant scenes of bloodshed and horror:

"The barbarian hordes in their sudden attacks overpowered the inhabitants and seized the fruits of their toil, before the warlike proprietors of the adjacent castles could descend to their defense. Prompt in aggression, prompter still in flight, they dragged into infamous captivity the youth of both sexes, driving off the herds, and leaving behind them only heaps of ashes and the corpses of the aged. Notwithstanding this immense havoc, the population still renewed itself upon that beautiful soil, 'cut up,' as says a Sclavonian poet, by the tramp of horses, fertilized by human blood, and white with bones, where sorrow grew abundantly,' and that population, like the soil, never ceased to be Sclavonian."

The Cossacks were wanderers, and their errant mode of life commenced with the destruction of the grods or villages of Russia, by the Tartars, about the middle of

and Vitold, in caps of wolf-skin, and clothed in the fur of bears, armed with bundles of arrows and monster guns; and then let them contemplate the growing connection of the Cossacks with Lithuania and Poland, and their subsequent civilization; their settlements on both banks of the Dnieper, the appearance of their new enemies the Tatars of the Crimea, the separation of the Zaporogues and their cruel supremacy over the Ukraine, their long series of famous chiefs from Ostafieff Daszkowicz down to the great Chmielnicki and the mysterious old Mazeppa; the singular education of the clergy of Kiow under Polish influence; the something at once chivalrous and pedantic in the aristocracy of Little Russia; the savage Lithuano-Asiatic tinge in the character of the people, this motley compound of Asia and Europe, of nomadic and settled life, of servility and independence, of weakness and energy; and finally the contemporaneous political intercourse of Poland with Muscovy, Turkey and the Crimea. From such elements arise the coloring and composition of this most singular of historical groups.

"The five centuries during which this drama was

POETRY OF THE COSSACKS.

185

"The Duma,' says he, 'are poems usually sung by the Badura. They differ from the songs by their narrative or epic character, and in their rhythmical construction, consisting of an indefinite number of syllables. It often happens, however, that, owing to the lyric turn of the people, a Duma assumes the character of a song, as well as its rhythm and measure. The verse of the Duma is usually rhymed, its subject historical.'

acted, passed rapidly away, but not so the remarkable people who to this day still retain their original nationality. M. Polewoy has beautifully painted the peculiar physiognomy of the Ukraine and her inhabitants. "Under a pure and serene sky,' says he, 'are spread out the boundless steppes of Ukraina, of which it was long ago said, "In this Ukraina the sky is extraordinarily tranquil, and bad weather is never seen nor heard of there." The Ukrainian is slow, taciturn, difficult of speech, does not bow himself as does the native of Great Russia, does not promise much, but is shrewd and intelligent, and respects the word both given and received. Whilst the one lives entirely in the present, the other lives all in the past. Would you gain the friendship of the Ukrainian, be not pressing, for he is suspicious; but rather take part in his Cossack-like existence, for he is proud of the events of past times. Remind him of these, let him see that you admire his ancestors, and his countenance will brighten, his vivacity will be called forth, his heart will beat stronger; thened by the Cossacks over the Poles at Cechryn. It you may converse with him enough. You will be opens with serious and pious reflections. admitted into the sanctuary of his joys and sorrows, you will at length hear his song of the steppe, and be astonished at the cheerfulness of his disposition.'

"To complete this definition, it must be added, that the Badura are, or rather were (for they are now becoming scarce) professional singers in Ukraine; a kind of bards or minstrels, or rather of rhapsodists, for every thing there points to beautiful Greece. Some of the Duma are, in fact, fragments of a regular epic, whilst others are mere rhymed chronicles, similar to those found amongst all nations, as their first essays, at recording the events of their early history. As a specimen of the former, we select a Duma relative to a victory gain

"O! in our famed Ukraina there has been many a terrible moment, many a season of unhappiness; there have been plagues and broils of war; there were none to help the Ukraialone, he did not forget us; he assisted us to arrest the mighty nians; none sent up prayers for them to God; the holy God armies, to drive back the enemy. The fierce tempests have passed away; they have sunk into stillness; none have been able to conquer us!-Not for one day, nor for two, did the Lachy (the Poles) plunder Ukraina. They did not grant a moment's respite; day and night their horses stood bridled; they trod the paths to our Hetman Nalevayko; and what does the brave Hetman meditate and design? What is the fate he prepares for his companions? Only the holy God knows-the holy God who assists him with his might.'

"These songs still resound on both banks of the Dnieper, though ages must have rolled away before any heed was given to them. They were distasteful to the Poles, for these songs were wet with their blood, and the Russians have only of late begun to take interest in letters. It was not till after the passions which had so long divided the Ukrainians and the Poles had been quenched in the blood of several generations, that the latter turned with sympathy to their former subjects, and to this sympathy, the offspring of their common misfortune, the people of Ukraine will be indebted for the preservation of their history and literature, the two forth-it thunders towards Czechryn; it sends forth its lightstrong-holds of their crushed nationality. Lach Szyrmaning over Ukraina; it is the Poles who have thrice crossed

was the first Pole who drew the attention of the public to these subjects by printing two songs of the Ukraine, in a periodical edited at Vilno in 1824. The Russian Prince Certeleff followed his example, and collected and published several others. Sometime afterwards a large collection of Polish and Russian popular songs was printed at Lemberg, with their respective melodies, arranged by the celebrated composer Lipinski. A still richer contribution was expected from Chodakowski, a Pole who devoted his life and fortune to the subject. His premature death cut short these hopes, but the songs collected by him fortunately fell into the hands of M. Maxymowicz, who, assisted by some Russians, at length effected the publication of nearly three thousand songs of the Ukraine, at Moscow, in 1834. These songs, some of which might more properly be called epic poems, if skillfully arranged in proper order, joined to an ancient poem on the expedition of Igor, a Russian Duke, the work of an unknown author, might fairly take place by the side of the Niebelungen, if not indeed by that of the Ilias itself.

"The songs published by M. Maxymowicz, may be divided into the Duma, and the songs proper.

Vol. I.-24

"The Duma thus alludes to the approach of the Poles:

"From beyond the mountain a cloud rises-it rises, it comes

three rivers.'

"The Polish army takes position, and the trumpets sound; the Duma thus proceeds:

"Those are not clouds thundering with sacred thunder in the heavens; those are not saints being led into the presence of God. They are the Lachy, beating their drums and sounding their pipes and trumpets.'

“The Duma, strictly speaking, is an heoric elegy, consecrated to the memory of some distinguished chief. The following, remarkable for simplicity and pathos, commemorates the death of the Hetman Swiergowski:

"When the Hetman John Swiergowski
To the Turks became a prey;
There they slew the gallant chieftain,
They cut off his head that day.

Their trumpets they blew, and his head on a spear
They set, and they mocked him with jest and with jeer.

Yonder see a cloud descending,

Ravens gathering on the plain,
Gloom above Ukraina spreading;

She mourns and weeps her Hetman slain;
Then fierce o'er the wide plain the mighty winds blew,
'O, answer, what did ye with our Hetman do ?'

Then black eagles soared past, screaming,
'Where did ye make our Hetman's grave?'

DISAPPOINTMENT.

The storm shakes the forest, and the fierce winds are striving; Standish? She defied all admonition. When met in Thick gloom overshadows the plain;

DISAPPOINTMENT.

CHAPTER VI.

THE RECANTATION.

Gentle her voice and tremulous its tones,

187

that I should defer it till the following day. I spent || the discovery, that cleaving to the world is an adhesion most of the intervening period in efforts to devise a to its god; that pleasure pursued out of Christ and out plan for Mr. Flitwood's relief. But invention failed of the Holy Spirit, is pursued in the direction of despair. me. As the time drew near I became extremely anxious. When we met, therefore, I was gratified to learn that Mrs. Flitwood was unhappy, and was prosecuting her preparation for Mrs. Gaulette's party with fitful hesitation. I found that of her own accord she had introduced the subject to her husband, informing him that she wished to visit at Mrs. Gaulette's with a select company, and soliciting his approbation, if not his presence which she greatly desired. He answered with gentleness:

While meek humility her folly owns.

Mrs. Flitwood was surprised. Wayward as she was, she looked upon her husband as the purest of mankind. If she reproached him, it was for being too good. She looked upon him as differing from other mortals-not merely by accident or by grace, but originally and radically. She considered him divested of all gross affections; and with nothing earthly to care for, waiting like Enoch, amidst scenes of sweet seren

'My dear, it grieves my very heart to seem averse to any associations which can contribute to your enjoyment. But anxiety for your happiness has already car-ity, for translation into glory. ried me too far. I have violated conscience, and am pained at the remembrance."

"Surely," she replied with some sharpness, "it was of your own free will that you attended the splendid party at my father's. You cannot charge it to my account."

me.

Inexperienced as she was, she could not at first comprehend the import of his grief. She would not trace it to any fault or error of his own. His confession did not warrant it. What had he done? The circumstance alluded to could not, she conceived, cause him so much sorrow. She saw that many Christians al"No, no," he replied, "not at all. Do not mistake lowed themselves an unreserved communion with the The blame is wholly mine. My wounds are fashionable world; and conscience did not trouble self-inflicted, but not on that account less painful; and them. She overlooked the declaration of our Lord, had I wounded only myself, it might be borne. But Many shall say in that day, have we not prophesied in the wrong affects you. How can I ever again have thy name, and in thy name cast out devils? then will a face to admonish you as to the interests of your I profess to them I never knew you. She did not consoul. Alas!" he exclaimed with irrepressible grief,||sider that these reputed Christians were the diseased "alas, that I should have crowned my efforts to win of the Church, infecting other members, impairing its you to Christ, by such an act of folly and sinful- vigor and its beauty, and rendering the betrothed of ness! I shall no more say to you, refrain. No, my Jesus Christ a suspected and wanton bride. Nor did she dear, act your pleasure. I cannot utter nay. I dare perceive that the world was made easy in its neglect of not suggest again the vanity of the world, and the solid Jesus Christ, when, to ascertain who were his discicomforts of religion. I know both; but I have robbed ples, men must look, not at their lives for the fruits of myself of the privilege of testifying. I am a silenced the Spirit, but at the Church register on which their witness. Henceforth I shall lie in the dust, and plead names were entered. with God to undo what I have done-to save you from injuries which I have inflicted on your soul! But I cannot go with you. You see my brokenness of heart-you witness this agony, and you will in pity excuse my again mingling with the world on any ac-pleasures in religion. He was so much more self-sacricount. Try me in a way which shall involve mere earthly sacrifices, and see what my love will do and suffer to make you happy."

This appeal, by its manner as well as by its sentiment, wrought deeply on the feelings of Mrs. Flitwood. She began to address soothing words to her husband. But she knew not the nature of his wounds, nor the ointment which alone could heal them. She was ignorant of the Gospel balm, and of the great Physician. She could only insist that "he had done no harm; that the pleasures he had so slightly participated were innocent; and that he had no cause for this extreme grief." So blind is the world to Christian duty--so ignorant of Christian privilege! It cannot be convinced that the love of the world is as truly irreligious as robbery or murder; and that to mingle with the world is to love it. Some professors can scarcely be convinced. How many at last will be confounded by

Such were the majority of Christians with whom Mrs. Flitwood was acquainted. But such was not her husband. He felt within, the power of Christian life, and he expressed it by his actions. He sought his

ficing than other Christians, and so much more happy than they appeared to be, that Mrs. Flitwood believed him past repentance, and especially such repentance as his present sorrow indicated.

She mistook the Christian character. Repentance is one of its strongest features. True, the believer's repentance is not distrustful and death-working. It is wholesome and confiding. Yet it is repentance, and he would not forego it. It has luxuries. The happiest hours of holy men are softened by it. None ever get above it. We may ascend the mount of regeneration-the mount of faith-the mount of love, but on their loftiest summits we shall find no soil barren of repentance-no region elevated above its sheltering clouds and grateful showers. Our earthly graces are mere buds and blossoms, and are most beautiful and fragrant when wet with drops of generous sorrow. these buds of grace become the fruits of glory, and they

Let

can bear the constant sunshine. Then they will be || his knowledge of Mrs. Flitwood's weakness, he could treasured in a tearless heaven.

not think her in much danger. Her sorrow seemed so Misconceiving as she did, no wonder Mrs. Flitwood deep and her purpose so sincere, that he smothered all came to the conclusion that these tears were shed for misgivings. What then was his surprise to find that her. Of this, on reflection, she became almost certain, one half hour served to re-reform his wife! It was so. and it moved her exceedingly. She relented. Her || Mrs. Standish left her in possession of her former views husband saw it, and began to indulge the most grateful and feelings, and more than ever bent to thwart and expectations. His hopes did not seem unwarranted. grieve her husband. She retired a few minutes to give vent to her emotions; then returned, and sitting by his side, proceeded to make a full statement and recantation of her pledge.

This proves the power of religion; and shows that duty is sound policy. It also proves that open contrition can do something to counteract the social influence of our backslidings. Peter's oaths and curses may have hardened many hearts; but his tears have softened more. We glance at his denial; but we dwell in tearful and penitent meditation on his relentings, his confession, and his fidelity in after life.

Mr. Flitwood had offended; but he was docile under the admonitions of friendship, and the warnings of God's Spirit. He did not mourn in secret. Unvailing his sorrow to his wife, she was smitten to the heart. If she reformed, he was the instrument; if not, he had cleared his skirts.

CHAPTER VII.

THE WORSE ESTATE.

"And with rash thought and tongue he cries,
My oaths are sand."

Whether an oath to do wickedly should be kept or broken, has been questioned. Some say that if the sin be worse than perjury, the vow should be violated; if otherwise, observed. For in circumstances which render offense in some form inevitable, we should at least sin as little as may be.

The reader will wish to know what restored her so suddenly to a state of moral stubbornness. It was not any direct appeal from Mrs. Standish, for her conversation ran wholly on religion. She recounted the recent triumphs of her faith, the fullness of her comforts, and described her hopes, so firm and bright as to leave her almost nothing to desire. She rejoiced that while religion was so precious, and held out its treasures to her, she could still enjoy the world. One she held in this hand and the other in that, while the delights of both were subject to her fruition. She thanked her heavenly Father for provisions adapted to all her wants of soul and body-of her solitary and social states. She thanked him for his Spirit, to teach her how to use and not abuse these gifts. She thanked him that he allowed her so many indulgences adapted to the necessities of her frail nature. Such was the spirit of her homily.

Whatever was the aim of this conversation, its effect on Mrs. Flitwood was disastrous. It was a Satanic incantation, and roused all the evil energies of her nature. The amiable sorrow which just now threw the softened shades of beauty over her fair features, gave place to graceless obduracy; and the hue of moral loveliness yielded to an expression of coarse rigidity. Mr. Flitwood saw it, and hope was quenched in despair.

He might well be discouraged. Human nature is bad enough at best; but when we aim at self-defilement, and strive to aggravate our guilt, we are a spectacle to angels and to God. We were made for glorious purposes, and may ascend to heaven; but moral liberty was essential to natures so ennobled, and pos sessing it we may plunge ourselves to hell. Mrs. Flit

This is plausible. But some objections lie against it. If I vow to commit murder, the rule requires me not to do it, but rather forswear myself. But if I vow to steal, it forbids retraction, because larceny is not so flagrant as the violation of my oath. Suppose, then, I am bound by oath to steal a horse next August. Two months will intervene. During the time I am smittenwood was in danger. She had purposed reformation; by conviction, and desire to seek pardon. What course must I pursue in relation to my oath? If I resolve to execute it, I cannot find pardon, because a purpose to sin prevents forgiveness. Is there no way to avoid the difficulty? Certainly there is. Give up the oath and cry to God for mercy. For the swearing, though wrong, is already past, and on repentance will be pardoned. The inference is that an oath to do wrong ought not to be observed.

but quenching the Holy Spirit, she had unlocked her heart to Satan. He entered and re-possessed it, and her last state was worse than the first.

CHAPTER VIII.

THE CHASTISEMENT.

'Midst stirring hopes and startling fears That gild or gloom our opening years, Omniscience notes our ways and wiles, And as we walk he frowns or smiles. It was right for Mrs. Flitwood to change her purpose. These successive changes in Mrs. Flitwood's feelings She had said that death alone should prevent her vis-occurred the evening after her husband's first call upon iting Mrs. G. Though this was not an oath, it was a rash and sinful promise. But she had now revoked it. Well for her had she remained steadfast.

me. The next morning she was silent; but when he left her, she seemed more subdued in manner, and his hopes began to be revived. They had two lovely chilWhile sitting by her husband and making her con- ||dren, who were taken ill during the night. In the fession, Mrs. Standish was announced. Mr. Flitwood morning the physician pronounced their sickness scarwithdrew, and left the ladies to unrestrained commu- let fever, which was prevailing in the neighborhood. nion. It was to him an anxious crisis. But with all Mrs. Gaulette's party was to be on Wednesday even