In the seventh age of Troyán,[85] Vsesláv cast his lot for his beloved maiden.[86] He bestrode his horse, and galloped to the city of Kíev, and with the thrust of the spear possessed himself of golden-throned Kíev. He galloped hence as a grim beast to the south of Byélgorod,[87] and disappeared in the blue mist; next morning he clanked with the battering-ram, and opened the gates of Nóvgorod; he shattered the glory of Yarosláv,[88] and raced as a wolf to the Nemíga from Dudútki.[89] On the Nemíga, ricks are stacked with heads, and they flail with tempered chains; the body is placed on the threshing-floor, and the soul is winnowed from the body. Not with grain were sown the bloody banks of the Nemíga, but with the bones of Russian sons. Prince Vsesláv sat in judgment over his people, apportioned cities to the princes, but himself raced a wolf[90] in the night, and by cockcrow reached from Kíev to Tmútorokan, and as a wolf crossed the path of great Khors.[91] When they rang the bell in the church of St. Sophia for matins, early in the morning at Pólotsk, he heard the ringing in Kíev. Though his cunning soul could pass into another body, yet he often suffered woe. Thus wise Boyán of old has justly said: “Neither the cunning, nor the agile, nor the swift bird can escape the judgment of the Lord!” Oh, the Russian land must groan as it recalls the former days and the ancient princes! It was not possible to nail Vladímir to the hills of Kíev[92]: now there are standards of Rúrik, and others of David....[93] XII Yaroslávna’s[94] voice is heard; like a cuckoo in a lonely spot she calls plaintively in the morning: “I will fly,” she says, “like a cuckoo along the Danube,[95] will wet my beaver sleeve in the river Kayála, will wipe off the Prince’s bloody wounds on his manly body!” Yaroslávna weeps in the morning at Putívl town on the wall, saying: “O wind, mighty wind! Why, master, do you blow so strong? Why do you on your light wings carry the Khan’s arrows against the warriors of my beloved one? Is it not enough for you to blow on high below the clouds, rocking the ships on the blue sea? Why, master, have you dispersed my happiness over the grass of the steppe?” Yaroslávna weeps in the morning at Putívl town on the wall, saying: “O famous Dnieper, you have pierced the rocky mountains across the country of the Pólovtses! You have rocked on your waves the boats of Svyatosláv as far as the army of Kobák.[96] Fondly bring to me, master, my sweetheart, that I may not in the morning send tears after him out to sea.” Yaroslávna weeps in the morning at Putívl town on the wall, saying: “Bright, three times bright sun, you give warmth and joy to all! Why, master, have you thrust your burning beams on the warriors of my beloved one? Why have you in the waterless plain dried up their bows, and sealed their quivers in sorrow?” XIII