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Prologue



Amidst the beautiful garden;

The lilacs and lilies,

Stood a bright and breezy maiden,

Humming with the cool breeze:

In her silken voice a song,

Melodic, tuneful and long....



"Cynthia", came a firm and stern call;

In came blooming filly,

Her father's rosy cheerful doll,

And she hugged her daddy!

A man in formal attire,

With hard flashy looks like fire.



This lovely daughter never knew

What her kind daddy was;

Had been nineteen years since she grew,

Away from yonder cross.

The worldly wars and bloodshed,

So many guileless men dead.



At length one day she came to know,

Aghast found her daddy;

To her it was a furious blow,

She was so shocked to see,

He was in Austrian army,

An epitome of cruelty.



Colonel Gilbert was widely known,

For his wrath and anger.

All the victories he had shown,

In a way improper;

And his own daughter whereas,

Was such a sinless pure lass.



She felt smothered with helplessness;

Of Poland the slave state,

All the grievances to redress,

She decided her fate.

So, hating that specious man,

From Austria away she ran.



Ran like light with little color;

Dawn broke, wind shook the trees,

Satiated with grief, a buffer:

To Poland with the breeze-

For she hated victory,

Over man's captivity.



Part 1



Riding as fast as lightening,

In glittering arms clad,

His horse seemed to be having wings.

A naked sword he had:

In his right hand, and in left,

A shield by him again swept.



Stern looking with fire in his eye,

Blackly hued like raven,

Under the cerulean sky;

Burning with rage in sun.

This was brave young Patrico,

Fighting with many a foe.



In war cavalrymen were slain,

Those supporting Poland,

By Austrian forces inhumane,

Who merged their blood with sand.

Clouds of dust flew on the earth,

While fought the warriors stalwart.



All the sanguinary people-

Had angry irate eyes.

In the sanguinary battle,

No one heard the earth's cries.

Land went crimson sky went lead,

So many soldiers lay dead.



Colonel Gilbert was quite austere,

But gallant Patrico,

Fought with courage and boldness sheer:

Hence, was the true hero,

But before this victory,

He had something else to see.



Unawares an attack caused him,

By a sword of someone,

Which made his arm with blood to swim:

Swiftly his horse did run.

Rudely he killed the rebel,

Dead, from his stallion he fell.



Patrico fought like a tiger,

He fought all day all night;

His eyes were strenuous and eager,

He fought with all his might.

While leaving the woeful force,

Did something that was much worse.



Houses were fired of all people,

A havoc was created:

When orders of heartless colonel,

Were accelerated.

People ran from place to place,

To save their lives and their space.



On the houses of countryside,

The fire cast a red glow;

Ribbons of sable smoke did rise,

It left the country slow-

With burnt houses burnt people,

While alive persons did yell.



Till dawn the warriors had all gone,

Leaving the rotten land,

The sadly weeping sky of dawn,

And the dejected sand.

Heavens looked dolefully at:

Ugly battlefield bloodclad....



Part 2



Patrico rode back to the camp,

With pain of wound in arm;

He saw the pleasantly lit lamp,

The flowers with lot of charm,

And all that he had wanted-

He was so much inchanted.



All this had been done by his new,

Nurse from an unkown lan:

About whom knew only a few,

She came to help Poland.

Shyly she stood and when asked,

Told her name "Cynthia" at last.



Patrico did walk towards her,

And then smiled thankfully;

Not lips but his heart did whisper,

As fair as snow was she;

He looked into her eyes and,

Gently held her lovely hand.



She slowly led him to his bed

His bleeding wound was dressed,

And then she kissed on his forehead.

And advised him to rest.

A soft cushion she did keep,

And soon he was fast asleep....



She started devoting each hour,

For those good brave soldiers-

Of the land caught in toils of war,

Captivated since years.

Those soldiers she used to cure,

With her hands so fair and pure.



Patrico used to tell her of

Austrian war, the Colonel,

Huge army, and the battle tough,

And threat to the people.

"You shall win", she used to say;

And smoothed his tensions away.



She loved him for his bravery,

Handsomeness and valour;

And his great love for his country.

Comforted him with her

Lovely words and soothing voice,

So he may win and rejoice.



One morning for a walk she went,

And reached the countryside.

Without  bread, without a cent-

Many people had died.

Their vanity she could see,

And ther sordid poverty.



Their relatives had lost their lives,

In the war for freedom;

Leaving their poor children and wives,

With a life troublesome.

But one lady was not weak-

Had not a tear on her cheek.



She had lost her husband and som,

And was sad for those two,

But she said that she was the one,

Who thought it better to,

Die happily than living

A life as ugly as a sin....



Part 3



Colonel Gilbert had been looking,

All these days for Cynthia;

Where the hell could she be hiding,

Used to wonder with fear.

One of his aides an evening,

Inside his camp came panting.



He had brought the news about her,

Said he, to his sorrow-

"Cynthia has come to Poland, sir;

And she loves Patrico-

He, your greatest enemy,

For this he must pay dearly".



Colonel wrote a letter which he,

Posted to his daughter;

Asking her to come back or she,

Will lose her brave lover....

This letter when Cynthia viewed,

Nothing could the girl conclude.



Meanwhile the Polish soldiers planned,

To blast the Austrian caves,

Kill the Colonel and save their land-

Get what everyone craves.

Doing this job of risky kind,

Patrico made up his mind.



He searched for Cynthia that evening,

But nowhere could he spot;

At last found her quitely standing,

Lost in some serious thought.

He smiled and then he went near

And made his decision clear.



All the time he spoke she kept quiet;

Nothing else she could do,

But just wait for that fateful night

When his death she might view.

She felt miserable, weak,

And a tear rolled down her cheek.



"Come on, Cynthia; I'll win, I say,

I'm a hero", said he,

"Do not discourage me today",

He went to get ready.

"He is right; he is a hero",

Thought Cynthia, "Yes! He must go",



"Like that lady I met that day,

Who lost her spouse and son;

I must send him where he may,

Accomplish his mission-

I'll lose my dad and lover",

Saying this, she wiped off her tear.



He came in to bid her goodbye,

She could not speak or smile;

For she knew he was going to die-

She looked at him awhile.

His face was bright, the road dim,

And death waited to grab him.



He went off and she shut her eyes,

Heard a boom from outside-

The crowds came out with joyous cries;

Her heart cried and throat dried;

But she had, she said with pride,

Saved Poland, as she had tried.