Master Thaddeus; or, the last foray in Lithuania, tr. by M.A. Biggs. With notes by the transl. and E.S. Naganowski, Volume 1

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Page 1 - My country, like art thou to health, For how to prize thee he alone can tell • Who has lost thee. I behold thy beauty now In full adornment, and I sing of it Because I long for thee. O holy Virgin! Thou, who defendest Czenstochowa...
Page x - the Pole smile with manly pride when the inhabitant of the banks of the Tiber or Seine calls his language rude ; let him hear with keen satisfaction and the dignity of a judge the stranger who painfully struggles with the Polish pronunciation, like a sybarite trying to lift an old Roman coat of armour, or when he strives to articulate the language of men with the weak accent of a child.
Page 265 - Who dares this pair of boots displace, " Must meet Bombastes face to face.
Page x - Roman coat of armour, or when he strives to articulate the language of men with the weak accent of children. So long as courage is not lost in our nation, while our manners have not become degraded, let us not disavow this manly roughness of our language. It has its harmony, its melody, but it is the murmur of an oak of three hundred years, and not the plaintive and feeble cry of a reed, swayed by every wind.
Page 195 - So now I think my time is near. I trust it is. I know The blessed music went that way my soul will have to go.
Page 2 - Gate,52 who shieldest The castled town of Nowogrodek with Its faithful people: as by miracle Thou didst restore me as a child to health, "When by a weeping mother, I, confided To thy protection, raised my half-dead eye, And to the threshold of thy sanctuary Could go at once on foot to offer thanks To God for life returned: do thou likewise Restore us thus by miracle unto The bosom of our Fatherland! Meanwhile Bear thou my soul, consumed by longing, to Those wooded hills, unto those meadows green...

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