Now the Sula no longer sweeps
A silvery stream
To the city of Pereyaslavl,
And the Dvina flows through fens
To those dread men of Polotsk,
To the yells of the pagans.
Izyaslav, son of Vasiiko, alone
Has made his sword clang,
On Lithuanian helmets,
Bringing to naught
The fame of Vseslav, his forefather;
But he himself was struck down Beneath his scarlet shields On the blood-bedewed grass With his friend who spoke thus:
"0 prince, the birds have clothed "Your warriors with their wings, "The beasts have licked up their blood!" Bryachislav, his brother, was not there, Nor the other, Vsevolod:
He alone yielded up
His pearl-white soul
From his valiant body
Through his necklace of gold !
Voices are mournful now,
And joy has waned,
The bugles wail in Gorodno...
0 you, offspring of Yaroslav, And you, grandsons of Vseslav !
Lower your banners, and sheathe Your blunted swords!
Far, far have you fled
From your forefathers' fame!
For your brawls have brought the pagans
Into the Russian land,
Into Vseslav's realm!
For your feuds have brought violence
From the Polovets land!
In the seventh age of Troyan
Vseslav cast lots
For the maid he desired.
With wiles he strengthened
His seat in the saddle,
He galloped up to the city of Kiev,
With his spear-shaft he touched
Its golden throne.
He bounded thence
Like a savage beast
At midnight, from Byelgorod
And was lost in blue mists;
In the morning he battered with bills
And burst open the gates of Novgorod,
Shattering Yaroslav's fame.
Like a wolf he sprang
From Dudutki to the Nyemiga.
On the Nyemiga River
Heads lie strewn like sheaves of corn,
The threshers thresh
With flails of steel.
On that threshing-floor
Lives are laid down,
Were sown not with good seed-They were sown with the bones Of Russia's sons!
Vseslav the prince
Judged his people,
He assigned cities to princes,
And himself would scour
Through the night like a wolf:
From Kiev speeding,
Before cockcrow he reached
Far Tmutorokan.
Like a wolf,
He would cross the path
Of Khors, the great god.
Early matins were rung for him
At St. Sophia's in Polotsk,
And he heard the chimes in Kiev.
Though he had the soul of a seer
In his valiant body,
Yet many a time
He suffered misfortune.
To him did the seer Boyan
Full of sagacity,
Speak thus long ago:
"Neither the crafty, nor the cunning,
"Nor even the crafty bird
"Shall escape the judgment of God!"
Oh, the Russian land shall moan Recalling bygone days And the princes of old:
Vladimir of old
Could not be nailed fast
To the hills of Kiev!
And now Rurik and David
Уже бо Сула не течетъ сребреными струями
къ граду Переяславлю, и Двина болотомъ течетъ
онымъ грознымъ полочаномъ
подъ кликомъ поганыхъ. Единъ же Изяславъ, сын
Васильковъ, позвони своими острыми мечи
о шеломы литовския, притрепа славу своему
Всеславу,
а самъ подъ чрълеными щиты на кровавъ травы
притрепанъ литовскими мечи исхати юна кров, а тъи
рекъ:
«Дружину твою, княже,
птицъ крилы приодъ, а звери кровь полизаша». Не
бысть ту брата Брячяслава,
ни другаго—Всеволода. Единъ же изрони жемчюжну
душу изъ храбра тъла чресъ злато ожерелие. Унылы
голоси, пониче веселие, трубы трубятъ
городеньскии.
Ярославе вси внуце и Всеславли! Уже понизите
стязи свои, вонзите свои мечи вережени.
Уже бо выскочисте изъ дъдней славъ. Вы бо своими
крамолами начясте наводити поганыя
не землю Рускую,
на жизнь Всеславлю, Которою бо бъше насилие
отъ земли Половецкыи!
На седьмомъ въцъ Трояни връже Всеславъ жребий
о дъвицю себъ любу. Тъй клюками подпръся о кони и
скочи къ граду Кыеву и дотчеся стружиемъ
злата стола киевскаго
Скочи отъ нихъ лютымъ звъремъ въ плъночи изъ
Бъла-града объсися синъ мьглъ;
утръ же вазни с три кусы,—
отвори врата Нову-граду,
разшибе славу Ярославу,
скочи влъкомъ
до Немиги съ
Дудутокъ.
На Немизъ снопы стелютъ
головами, молотятъ чепи харалужными,
не бологомъ бяхуть посъяни— посъяни костьми
рускихъ сыновъ. Всеславъ князь людемъ судяше,
княземъ грады рядяше,
а самъ въ ночь влъкомъ рыскаше:
изъ Кыева дорискаше до куръ Тмутороканя,
великому Хръсови влъкомъ путь прерыскаше. Тому
въ ПОЛОТЬСКЪ позвониша заутренюю рано
у святыя Со феи въ колоколы, а онъ въ Кыев!. звонъ
слыша. Аще и въща душа въ дръздъ, нъ часто 6ъды
страдаше
Тому въщей Боянъ
и пръвое припъвку, смысленый, рече:
«Ни хытру,
ни горазду,
ни птицю горазду
суда божиа не минути».
О, стонати Руской земли, помянувше пръвую годину
и пръвыхъ князей! Того стараго Владимира нельзя
бъ пригвоздити къ горамъ киевскимъ:
сего бо нынче сташа стязи Рюриковы.