And like the sun his holy visage shone. Ah, such a Tsar we never had before! We must have angered God, we must have sinned GRIGORI. I long have wished to ask, oh, holy father Thou wert, I know, at Uglitch at the time. PIMEN. Oh, I remember well: God made me see I sudden heard the bell, loud rang th' alarm: I hasten thither. Men hurry to the palace gates; All the city there and I saw the murdered boy: The Tsarilsa, his mother, in a swoon O'er him had fallen; his nurse was weeping loud "There! there's the villain!" rang the general howl, The fleeing murderers fierce the mob pursued, And seized the friends who fain had sheltered them; The criminals confessed, and named Borís. GRIGORI. How old was then the murdered Tsarevitch? PIMEN. His years were seven; he would have been to-day – (Ten years have passed away since then, nay, more, Twelve years have passed) — he would have been thy age, And on the throne! but God saw otherwise. DIMITRI AND MARINA. (From "Boris Godunof.") MARINA. Dimitri! Is it you? THE PRETEnder. Sweet, witching voice! Is 't thou at last? Behold I thee indeed How slowly dragged the hours of weary day! MARINA. The hours for me sped fast, the time was dear: For I believe thou lov'st me well. But list! Take hold of life, and not with childish blindness, A silent, uncomplaining concubine, — The helpmeet of the Tsar of Muscovy! THE PRETENDER. Oh, let me for a single hour forget The labors and the dangers of my fate! Forget thou, also, that in me thou seest The tsarévitch! Marina, see in me The lover of thy choice, whom thou canst fill With rapture by a single glance of love. Oh, heed the supplication of my love, And let me tell thee all that fills my heart! MARINA. There is no time, prince! While thou loiterest here. Cool grows the zealous ardor of thy men, Each hour the danger and the toil for thee Already doubtful rumors fly abroad; Already change treads close on heel of change. And Godunóf hastes on the ripening plan. THE PRETENDER. And who is Godunóf? Has this Borís Within his grasp thy love, my only joy? Nay, nay, now look I with indifference Upon his throne, upon his royal power. Thy love without that what were life to me, The gleam of glory and the Russian realm ? Thou, thou wert worth to me the crown of Tsar! MARINA. For shame! Let not thy soul forget Thy rank must lift thee far above all joy, Not to a youth, seething with mad desires, Did I in solemn mood bestow my hand; But to the heir of Moscow's splendid throne, The Tsar's son, saved for us by destiny. THE PRETENDER. Torture me not, Marina, loveliest! Confess not that it was my rank, not me, That thou didst choose. Marina, thou know'st not What! if oh, terrible suspicion! Say, If blind fate had denied me royal birth,- Answer me! MARINA. Dimitri, thou couldst not be else than he ! I could not love another! THE PRETENDER. "T is enough! I do not wish to share a dead man's love, And has not ever risen from the tomb! And easily deceived the fickle Poles ! To this, thou proud Marina, what say'st thou ? Why art thou silent? MARINA. Oh, the shame! the pain! THE BLACK SHAWL. LIKE a madman I gaze on a raven-black shawl: Remorse, fear, and anguish, this heart knows them all When believing and fond, in the springtime of youth, But it set, that fair day, in a hurricane night. One day I had bidden young guests, a gay crew, "With guests thou art feasting," he whisperingly said, I cursed him and gave him good guerdon of gold, "Ho! my charger- my charger!"- We mount, we depart, And soft pity whispered in vain at my heart. On the Greek maiden's threshold in frenzy I stood; I was faint, and the sun seemed as darkened with blood. By the maiden's low window I listen, and there I beheld an Armenian caressing the fair. The light darkened round me; then flashed my good blade- On the corse of a minion in fury I danced, I remember the prayers and the red-bursting stream Like a madman I gaze on the raven-black shawl: CAUCASUS. BENEATH me the peaks of the Caucasus lie; My gaze from the snow-bordered cliff I am bending; Floats movelessly on in a line with mine eye. I see the young torrent's first leaps toward the ocean, Beneath me the clouds in their silentness go, The cataracts through them in thunder down-dashing, Far beneath them bare peaks in the sunny ray flashing; Weak moss and dry shrubs I can mark yet below, Dark thickets still lower; green meadows are blooming Where the throstle is singing and reindeer are roaming. Here man, too, has nested his hut, and the flocks On the long grassy slopes in their quiet are feeding, Like a fierce young wild beast, how he bellows and raves, In vain, thou wild river! dumb cliffs are around thee, YA PEREZHIL SVOÏ ZHELANYA. I'VE overlived aspirings, My fancies I disdain; "Neath cruel storms of Fate With my crown of bay, Thus, struck by latter cold While howls the wintry wind, VOL. XVII.-13 |