The Sun.
London, England, 1861-06-25 00:00:00

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PRICE 4D. STAMPED, SD.

ral officers, Ministers of State, and the higher offi-
cials—all resplendent in their uniforms, glittering
with gold and silver, spangled with orders and deco-
rations. The procession was closed by a regiment
of Infantry, a battery of Artillery, and a regiment of
Lancers. How different a following was here from

that which voluntarily accompanied the victims of
the 27th of February to the grave! Then, the
earnest faces of that mighty mass of human beings,
their solemn bearing, their suppressed whispers
when need was for speech, their order, their obe-
dience to a sign or look of authority, their sombre
clothing—all bore witness to the spontaneous,
heartfelt, profound sense of national sorrow. On
Saturday the noise, the confusion, the loud talking,
the harsh tones of those in authority, the hireling
services of sentries and police, the utter absence of
all solemnity, told too truly that, with the exception
of that little band close behind the hearse, heart
sorrow, national grief, had little place there. And
then the crowd of gazers, mostly Jews and Jewesses,
whose Sabbath it was, looked on as at a pageant
in which they had no concern. Mere idle sight-
seers were they, who had come to gratify a heart-
less curiosity. Arrivad at the station, the coffin was
placed in the train, and then, the usual volleys due
to the rank of the deceased having been fired, and
the usual rounds front the artillery having signified
that the moment of departure had come, the body
was borne off, accompanied by the Prince's family
and aides-de-camp, to its final resting-place amid
the ruins and graves of Sebastopol, The requiescat
in pace.

To the honour of the deceased Prince it should
be mentioned, in confirmation of what I said in my
last letter about his honesty, that, over and above
the 50,000 roubles which the Emperor gave him at
the close of the Crimean War, he only left dispos-
able property to the value of 23,000 roubles. The
Emperor, to mark his sense of the Prince's services,
has presented 35,000 roubles to the widowed Prin-
cess, and. 5,000 roubles to each of his three
daughters.
Since the date of my last letter no event of great
political importance has occurred. In reference to
the exaggerations and mis-statements of foreign
newspapers, especially the Polish ones of Posen and
Galicia, the Marquis Wielapolski, as Minister of
Public Instruction, has called the attention of the
public, by a notice in the local journals, to the
punishments to which those render themselves liable
under the penal code " who send abroad false and
calumniating news of local affairs." And to this he
has appended a second notice, as Minister of Public
Justice, respecting the responsibilities incurred by
those employes who divulge the documents and
papers deposited in the judicial and administrative
archives.

The singing of the national hymn still continues.
Indeed, though of Roman Catholic origin, and con-
taining prayers for the dead, it has been recently
sung during Divine service in the churches of both
Lutheran and Calvinist Protestants, and (with
omissions) in the Jewish synagogues. To give you
some idea of its character, i venture to send you a
version of it in English—full of defects, I know, but
still conveying the sense of the original. It was
composed, I am told, by a Polish Bishop in the
reign of Alexander 1., when the Polish nation began
to entertain hopes of a renewed national existence
from the clemency and liberality of the Emperor,
after the events of 1815. The two last stanzas are
a recent addition. The music is plaintive and
touching :

PRAYER OP THE POLES.
0 Thou who didst o'e'r Poland oft of yore
Cause streams of glory and of power to flow ;
Who didst with Thine own shield her children guard
From woes that else had been their overthrow,—
Here at Thine altar, Lord, we raise our voice to Thee ;
Grant us our Country,—grant us Liberty !
Thou who Thyself didst grieve o'er Poland's fall,
Those who upheld her cause Thyself didst aid ;
And who, to prove her valour to the word,
Didst lend her brightness from each passing shade,—
Here at Thine altar, Lord, we raise our voice to Thee;
Grant us our Country,—grant us Liberty I
Give back to Poland all that erst was hers;
Make fruitful all her desert fields again;
Let joy and freedom flourish here once more ;
Oh 1 cease to punish ;—Lord, Thy wrath restrain.
Here at Thine altar, Lord, we raise our voice to Thee ;
Grant us our Country,—grant us Liberty
Thou who canst break the iron rod of kings
With but a touch of Thine Almighty hand,
Confound the machinations of our foes;
Some hope in our dark souls again command.
Here at Thine altar, Lord, we raise our voice to Thee;
Grant us our Country,—grant us Liberty I
Almighty I on Thy will alone depends
The fate of empires, and the lot of man,
Save us from out the bondage of our foes ;
Of Poland's sons bless Thou each deed, each plan.
Here at Thine altar, Lord, we raise our voice to Thee ;
Grant us our Country,—grant us Liberty I
Arise, 0 Lord, exert Thy sovereign might;
Cause battles, massacres, defeats to cease ;
In freedom's loving bond all people's join
Beneath the sceptre of Thine angel, Peace I
Here at Thine altar, Lord, we raise our voice to Thee ;
Grant us our Country,—grant us Liberty I
Almighty 1 by the wounds of Him who died,
Bless all departed ones for whom we grieve;
Deign but one look on us in bondage chained,
Vouchsafe our prayers to hear, our alms receive.
Here at Thine altar, Lord, we raise our voice to Thee ;
Grant us our Country,—grant us Liberty !
And now, when drowned once more in sorrow's tears,
For sons and brothers fall'n we lift our cry,
Who round their brows the martyr's thorns have twined
And traced in blood the path of Liberty,—
Here at Thine altar, Lord, we raise our voice to Thee ;
Give back our Country,—give us Liberty I