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Matters have reached a point / Where we’re deprived of all hope for hope. / Peasantry incited by Muscovite spirits / has started to rebel and riot overtly: / They’re sharpening knives and loading guns, / Reforging and gearing up spears; / They’re claiming arrogantly in our vicinity / That they’ll sift out tares from wheat.1 / Confessions of detainees prove / That the peasantry has determined a rendezvous / To slaughter us on the very day of Easter. / Oh, for God’s sake, why is there no rescue for us / From you? You keep promising it, / but in effect bring none.2

‘Rabid Ruthenian’: L’homme sauvage of the Late Eighteenth-Century Polish-Lithuanian Semiosphere