Page:Anthology of Modern Slavonic Literature in Prose and Verse by Paul Selver.djvu/127

Rh cry: "Wherefore? Wherefore? Eli, eli, lama sabachthani? Wherefore hast thou forsaken me, O Lord?"

And such a thrilling "Eli, eli, lama sabachthani?" is the most potent expression which nation ever had found for its despairing grief:

Chopin's polonaise in F sharp minor.

With what could it be compared?

In the whole of Polish art, surpassingly rich as it is, I am unable to find any adequate equivalent. In power of clairvoyant impulse, inspiration now forcibly detached from all that is sensual, it is certainly on the same level as the "Improvisation" of Mickiewicz, but it rises above what is egotistic in this poem, and in artistic strength it surpasses by far the national work of the Polish painter Grottger But perhaps something akin to it might be perceived in Matejko's picture, "Rejtan."

Rejtan, flung down by frenzied torment, stretched headlong upon the threshold of the assembly-hall, is lying on his back; with his sharp nails he is dragging his shirt from his breast, and is clamouring for his heart to be torn out, that he may not survive the disgrace of Poland's partition

The same strength of grief, the same over-