To Kosciusko

Thro' the burthen'd air (As pauses the tir'd Cossac's barb'rous yell Of Triumph) on the chill and midnight gale Rises with frantic burst or sadder swell The dirge of murder'd Hope!

thro' the list'ning air, For the 1828 edition and later printings of the poem, the final lines read:[2] That ever on a Patriot's furrowed cheek Fit channel found; and she had drained the bowl In the mere wilfulness, and sick despair of soul!

Hunt, like Coleridge, saw Kosciusko as a hero, admiring his character during the Polish rebellion and, as the subtitle suggests, his having "never fought either for Buonaparte or the allies".

[5] Hunt's version reads: 'Tis like thy patient valour thus to keep, Great Kosciusko, to the rural shade, While Freedom's ill-found amulet still is made Pretence for old aggression, and a heap Of selfish mockeries.

Keats's version reads:[6] Good Kosciusko, thy great name alone Is a full harvest whence to reap high feeling: It comes upon us like the glorious pealing Of the wide spheres-an everlasting tone.

And now it tells me, that in the worlds unknown, The names of heroes, burst from clouds concealing, And changed to harmonies, for ever stealing Through cloudless blue, and round each silver throne.

[7] Hunt and Keats viewed Kosciusko as a political ideal that was connected to King Alfred, a figure twho was believed to have established English constitutional liberty.