With special hate on Muscovites.—
Oh! what delight it was to slay!
I would the king had seen the fray:
Like prostrate harvests lay the dead.
It almost seemed I also bled.—
I bore dispatches from the war,
My honor stands in pledge therefor.
Waste not a moment more,—away!”
She heard his ravings with dismay,
While swooning sank her hero then