O lark, joy of beautiful days! Fly to the blue clouds, look towards the strong city of Moscow, sing the glory of Grand Prince Dmítri Andréevich! They have risen like falcons from the Russian land against the fields of the Pólovtses. The horses neigh at the Moskvá; the drums are beaten at the Kolómna; the trumpets blare at Serpukhóv; the glory resounds over the whole Russian land. Wonderfully the standards stand at the great Don; the embroidered flags flutter in the wind; the gilded coats of mail glisten. The bells are tolled in the vyéche[108] of Nóvgorod the Great. The men of Nóvgorod stand in front of St. Sophia, and speak as follows: “We shall not get in time to the aid of Grand Prince Dmítri Ivánovich.” Then they flew together like eagles from the whole midnight country. They were not eagles that flew together, but posádniks[109] that went out with 7000 men from Nóvgorod the Great to Grand Prince Dmítri Ivánovich and to his brother Vladímir Andréevich. All the Russian princes came to the aid of Grand Prince Dmítri Ivánovich, and they spoke as follows: “Lord Grand Prince! Already do the pagan Tartars encroach upon our fields, and take away our patrimony. They stand between the Don and Dnieper, on the river Mechá.[110] But we, lord, will go beyond the swift river Don, will gain glory in all the lands, will be an object of conversation for the old men, and a memory for the young.” Thus spoke Grand Prince Dmítri Ivánovich to his brothers, the Russian princes: “My dear brothers, Russian princes! We are of the same descent, from Grand Prince Iván Danílovich.[111] So far we brothers have not been insulted either by falcon, or vulture, or white gerfalcon, or this dog, pagan Mamáy.” Nightingale! If you could only sing the glory of these two brothers, Ólgerd’s sons,[112] Andréy of Pólotsk and Dmítri of Bryansk, for they were born in Lithuania on a shield of the vanguard, swaddled under trumpets, raised under helmets, fed at the point of the spear, and given drink with the sharp sword. Spoke Andréy to his brother Dmítri: “We are two brothers, sons of Ólgerd, grandchildren of Gedemín, great-grandchildren of Skoldimér. Let us mount our swift steeds, let us drink, O brother, with our helmets the water from the swift Don, let us try our tempered swords.”