But the epic is as remarkable for the quality of its style as it is for the historical interest of its subject-matter. It plunges, after a short introduction, _in medias res_, and the narrative is concentrated on the dramatic moments which give rise to the expression of lyrical feeling, pathos and description--such as the battle, the defeat, the ominous dream of the Grand Duke, and the lament of the wife of Igor on the walls of Putivl-- "I will fly"--she says-- "Like the cuckoo down the Don; I will wet my beaver sleeve In the river Kayala; I will wash the bleeding wounds of the Prince, The wounds of his strong body." * * * * * "O Wind, little wind, Why, Sir, Why do you blow so fiercely? Why, on your light wings Do you blow the arrows of the robbers against my husband's warriors? Is it not enough for you to blow high beneath the clouds, To rock the ships on the blue sea? Why, Sir, have you scattered my joy on the grassy plain?" Throughout the poem, Nature plays an active part in the events. When Igor is defeated, the grasses bend with pity and the trees are bowed to the earth with grief. When Igor escapes, he talks with the river Don as he fords it, and when the bandits follow him, the woodpeckers tell them the way with their tapping. The poem, which contains much lamentation over the quarrels of the Princes and the injury ensuing from them to the Russian people, ends in the major key. Igor is restored to his native soil, he goes to Kiev to give thanks in the Church, and the people acclaim the old Princes and then the young Princes with song. A transcript of the poem, made probably at the end of the fourteenth century, was first discovered in 1795 by Count Musin-Pushkin, and first published in 1800, when it made the same kind of impression as the publication of the _Songs of Ossian_. It was not, however, open to Dr. Johnson's objection--"Show me the originals"--for the fourteenth century transcript of the original then existed and was inspected and considered unmistakably genuine by Karamzin and others, but was unfortunately burnt in the fire of Moscow.[1] The poem has been translated into English, French and German, and has given rise to a whole literature of commentaries.