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In his descriptions of external nature-of the Lithuanian forests

or of the scene around Soplicowo on the moonlight night just

before the foray-Mickiewicz shows a genius for throwing a glamour

of poetic beauty over the face of common things such as has never

been surpassed. Finally, the whole poem is perfect in its

proportions; from its homely beginning, with pictures of rural

simplicity and old-fashioned hospitality, it swells into rustic

grandeur in the panorama of the hunt, and at last reaches the

most poignant tragedy in the scene about the death-bed of Jacek

Soplica: then, lest the impression should be one of total

sadness, the narrative concludes with the magnificent epilogue of

the last two books, full of hopes of rescue for Poland, full of

gaiety and courage. A large epic calm pervades the whole.