'Tinka, maiden tender-hearted, Was dissolved in tearful fits, On that fatal night she parted From her darling, fair-haired Fritz. Warm her soldier lad she wrapt in Comforter and muffettee; Called him "general" and "captain," Though a simple private he. "On your bosom wear this plaster, 'Twill defend you from the cold; In your pipe smoke this canaster, Smuggled 'tis, my love, and old. "All the night, my love, I'll miss you." Thus she spoke; and from the door Fair-haired Sneezoff made his issue, To return, alas, no more. He it is who calmly walks his Walk beneath the silver moon; He it is who boldly cocks his Detonating musketoon. He the bland canaster puffing, As upon his round he paces, Sudden sees a ragamuffin Clambering swiftly up the glacis. "Who goes there?" exclaims the sentry; "When the sun has once gone down No one ever makes an entry Into this here fortified town!" [How the sentrie Sneezoff was surprised and slayn.] Shouted thus the watchful Sneezoff; But, ere any one replied, Wretched youth! he fired his piece off Started, staggered, groaned, and died! XV. [How the Cossacks rushed in suddenly and took the citie.] Ah, full well might the sentinel cry, "Who goes there!" But echo was frightened too much to declare. Who goes there? who goes there? Can any one swear To the number of sands sur les bords de la mer, Or the whiskers of D'Orsay Count down to a hair? As well might you tell of the sands the amount, Or number each hair in each curl of the Count, As ever proclaim the number and name Of the hundreds and thousands that up the wall came! [Of the Cossack troops,] Down, down the knaves poured with fire and with sword: There were thieves from the Danube and rogues from the Don; There were Turks and Wallacks, and shouting Cossacks; Of all nations and regions, and tongues and religions-- Jew, Christian, Idolater, Frank, Mussulman: Ah, horrible sight was Kioff that night! [And of their manner of burning, murdering, and ravishing.] The gates were all taken--no chance e'en of flight; And with torch and with axe the bloody Cossacks Went hither and thither a-hunting in packs: They slashed and they slew both Christian and Jew-- Women and children, they slaughtered them too. Some, saving their throats, plunged into the moats, Or the river--but oh, they had burned all the boats! . . . . . [How they burned the whole citie down, save the church,] But here let us pause--for I can't pursue further This scene of rack, ravishment, ruin, and murther. Too well did the cunning old Cossack succeed! His plan of attack was successful indeed! The night was his own--the town it was gone; 'Twas a heap still a-burning of timber and stone. [Whereof the bells began to ring.]