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But they raised them straightway, for the master was playing

stronger and higher notes; he changed his measure, and proclaimed

something quite different from what had preceded. Once more he

looked down and measured the strings with his eye; he joined his

hands and smote with the two hammers in unison: the blow was so

artistic, so powerful, that the strings rang like brazen

trumpets, and from the trumpets a well-known song floated to the

heavens, a triumphal march, "Poland has not yet perished; march,

Dombrowski, to Poland!"-And all clapped their hands, and all

shouted in chorus, "March, Dombrowski!"