In vain, alas! in vain, the gallant few!
From rank to rank your volley'd thunder flew: —
Oh! bloodiest picture in the book of Time,
Sarmatia fell, unwept, without a crime;
Found not a generous friend, a pitying foe!
Strength in her arms, nor mercy in her woe!
Dropt from her nerveless grasp the shatter'd speer,
Clos'd her bright eye, and curb'd her high career; —
Hope, for a season, bade the world farewell,
And Freedom shriek'd — as KOSCIUSKO fell!