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Mikołaj Hussowski (c. 1480–1533)
A POEM ON BISON
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But his friends watch out so that this battle
Would not last too long and distract the beast.
With great skill the young men pierce the bison's heart,
So that they finish the chore with one blow,
They blow their horns, mock indolent companions,
The beast lies defeated, though it took great strength.
Dead lies the most dangerous inhabitant
Of the northern woods. Another awaits me
In the forest depth. When free, I will hunt him,
So get ready, aurochs, if you're bold enough!
For now, I'll leave him alone, for I'm perturbed
By terrible wars that Mars starts in the world.
The holiest Christian faith is wavering now,
It's weakened in the field and in the homeland,
It tears itself apart with its own swords,
It becomes the foe's butt of sneers and vile spoils.
It appeals only to the Lord's assistance,
Although our sin deprives us of any hope.
What do monarchs do? Did they go to sleep?
Ah! Never did they care less for peacefulness
And never were they less active! So what now?
Today one points the sword at the other's breast,
They dip deadly weapons in their brothers' blood,
Their warring spirit took a liking to it.
The same numbers of troops die on both sides,
It seems they do not need men under their rule.
They play with our blood in unrestrained crime,
A public enemy has been mocking us
Saying that those whose duty is to stand guard,
Are the robbers of their own herds today.
Their souls are inflamed with such fierce passion,
Their hardened hearts are possessed by such fury
They don't see at all what danger threatens us,
How the republic falls into decay.
Where in the world is this sword that wouldn't be stained
With our blood? Yet one sword is much more ruthless!
It is the Turk that slaughters many people,
Seizes ports, fills entrenchments with soldiers,
Demolishes temples, castles, and cities,
Aiming to wipe us out from the earth surface.
As he wades in the old men's and children's blood,
Spilled so lightly, he will go on unchecked;
When he tears out infants from grieved mothers' wombs,
He will find nothing, though content, but tears.
He has no fear of being stopped by weapons:
We are a wretched and blind mob for him.
While the kings, seeing what's left in their power,
Destroy it completely, tearing it apart,
They do it so none of them would be left,
Capable of protecting the Christian faith,
Which looking toward the celestial powers,
Knows no more, if it can show any trust.
Virgin, Mother of God,
23
when I wished to write
Your name, my hand began to tremble with fright.
Nor can I fathom, bewildered in my soul,
If it's better: to fall silent or speak up?
Stand mute when You are worthy of the world's praise
And all men in one voice should call to you?
To speak up, when neither human mind nor tongue
Is able to know the most worthy words?
But trusting your goodness, greater than all things
That exist below heaven, o, take a look!
I come with trembling heart, beg Your forgiveness
And throw myself, Mary, at Your holy feet.
In this poor, soiled cloak, still poorer interior,
I utter tremulous prayers with my pale lips,
Not because I am worthy to say a word,
But I know only You could save us from ruin,
For God, taking pity on the human lot,
Put You high there as if the redemptive light,
And as the bird protects featherless fledglings,
So You, pure Virgin, look after humankind.
Like a mother stretching her arms to her child,
So You raise up those fallen into the dust.
Great Majesty of the virginal flower!
Deign to join your prayers with my requests today.
Look at the fierce wars, at the blood-stained fields,
Look how the sword's right claims power to rule
Over those, who joined in the faith of Your Son,
Should live in brotherly peace forever.
I implore You, bring our princes to reason,
Let them recognize they betrayed their duty!
For each one, letting the reins of the world loose,
Is a guardian in name, in essence a wolf.
Meanwhile, so that we could catch our breath, hold back
The ferocious foe, restrain his anger,
So he would not enslave poor people,
Nor put in fetters the defenseless nations!
O, conduct Adrian the Sixth
24
along his ways,
So when called he'd deign to abandon delay
And quickly come to us ahead of sea storms
And curb the terrible fury of swords,
Show to the unwise men where the foe lies
And who should be deposed by the force of law.
Let the one who had gained his office by law,
Not purchase, rule his people by the same law,
Command their army, serve as their archpriest,
As dread of present days is demanding now.
Translated by Michael J. Mikos
Mikolaj Hussowski, born in a poor family in Hussow, was the author of panegyrical works and of
A Poem on Bison
(1523). This poem is a detailed descriptions of the bison, its life and habits. Written in Latin for Pope Leo X, an avid hunter, it stems from Hussowski's experience in hunting and observing bison, and contains no literary comparisons with ancient legendary creatures.
Notes:
23
The poet expresses in the form of a prayer the main political goal of the Polish State, namely the desire for peace among Christian rulers in order to present a common front against the danger of Turkish invasion, looming at the beginning of the sixteenth century.
24
Pope Adrian VI (1459-1523), the only Dutch pope, served from 1522 to 1523. This reference helped scholars date the poem.
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