Black are the moors before Kazan, <br />And their stagnant waters smell of blood: <br />I said in my heart, with horse and man, <br />I will swim across this shallow flood. <br /> <br />Under the feet of Argamack, <br />Like new moons were the shoes he bare, <br />Silken trappings hung on his back, <br />In a talisman on his neck, a prayer. <br /> <br />My warriors, thought I, are following me; <br />But when I looked behind, alas! <br />Not one of all the band could I see, <br />All had sunk in the black morass! <br /> <br />Where are our shallow fords? and where <br />The power of Kazan with its fourfold gates? <br />From the prison windows our maidens fair <br />Talk of us still through the iron grates. <br /> <br />We cannot hear them; for horse and man <br />Lie buried deep in the dark abyss! <br />Ah! the black day hath come down on Kazan! <br />Ah! was ever a grief like this?<br /><br />Henry Wadsworth Longfellow<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-siege-of-kazan-tartar-song-from-the-prose-version-of-chodzko/
