Cossacks, Cossacks! do not let the best flower of your army be taken from you! Already is Kookoobenko surrounded; already seven men are all that remain of the Nezamaikovskoï kooren, already they are nearly overpowered, and bloody are Kookoobenko's garments! Tarass himself, seeing his danger, hastened to his rescue. But the Cossacks were too late; a spear had already gone deep beneath his heart, before the foes who surrounded him were driven away. Slowly he drooped on the Cossacks who caught him in their arms, and his young blood streamed forth, like costly wine which careless servants bringing in a crystal flask from the cellar, and slipping at the entrance, have spilled on the ground; the precious flask is broken to pieces, the wine flows over the floor, and the master comes running and tearing his hair; he who had preserved that wine for the best occasion of his life, in order that if in his old days he ever happened to meet a comrade of his youth, he might remember with him bygone times, when different and better were the joys of men! Kookoobenko looked around him, and said, "Thank God, comrades, that I happen to die beneath your eyes! May those after us live better than we have done, and may everlasting felicity be the lot of the Christ-beloved Russian land!" And away flew the young soul. Angels raised it in their hands, and carried it to Heaven. "Sit down on my right hand, Kookoobenko," will Christ say to him, "thou didst not betray thy comrades, didst no dishonest deed, didst not forsake a man in distress, and didst preserve and defend my faith!" All were grieved by Kookoobenko's death; thinner and thinner grew the Cossacks' ranks, yet still they kept their ground. "How now, gentlemen?" cried Tarass to the remaining koorens, "is there still powder in the horns? are not the sabres grown blunt? is not the Cossack's strength tired? are not the Cossacks giving way?" "There is still powder enough, father! the sabres are still good! the Cossacks' strength fails not, nor have they given way!" And again the Cossacks rushed on, as if they had sustained no loss. Of the koorennoï atamans, three alone remained alive. Crimson streams of blood flowed in every direction, and the corpses of Cossacks and foes were piled in heaps. Tarass looked up to the sky, and behold, long lines of birds of prey were already there! A glorious feast will be theirs!