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THE

LEGEND OF ST. SOPHIA OF KIOFF.

AN EPIC POEM, IN TWENTY BOOKS.

The Poet describes the city and spelling of Kiow, Kioff, or Kiova.

I.

A THOUSAND years ago, or more,
A city filled with burghers stout,
And girt with ramparts round about,
Stood on the rocky Dnieper shore.
In armour bright, by day and night,

The sentries they paced to and fro.
Well guarded and walled was this town, and called
By different names, I'd have you to know;
For if you looks in the g’ography books,
In those dictionaries the name it varies,
And they write it off Kieff or Kioff,

II.

Kiova or Kiow.

Its buildings, public works, and ordinances, religious and civil.

Thus guarded without by wall and redoubt,
Kiova within was a place of renown,

With more advantages than in those dark ages

Were commonly known to belong to a town.
There were places and squares, and each year four fairs,
And regular aldermen and regular lord mayors;

And streets, and alleys, and a bishop's palace;

And a church with clocks for the orthodox-
With clocks and with spires, as religion desires;
And beadles to whip the bad little boys
Over their poor little corduroys,

In service-time, when they didn't make a noise;
And a chapter and dean, and a cathedral-green
With ancient trees, underneath whose shades
Wandered nice young nursery-maids.
Ding-dong, ding-dong, ding-ding-a-ring-ding,
The bells they made a merry merry ring,
From the tall tall steeple; and all the people
(Except the Jews) came and filled the pews-

Poles, Russians and Germans,

To hear the sermons

The poet shows how a certain priest dwelt at

Which HYACINTH preached to those Germans and Kioff, a godly

Poles,

For the safety of their souls.

clergyman, and one that preached rare good sermons.

III.

A worthy priest he was and a stout-
You've seldom looked on such a one;
For, though he fasted thrice in a week,
Yet nevertheless his skin was sleek;
His waist it spanned two yards about
And he weighed a score of stone.

How this priest was short and at of body;

IV.

A worthy priest for fasting and prayer
And mortification most deserving;
And as for preaching beyond compare,
He'd exert his powers for three or four hours,
With greater pith than Sydney Smith

Or the Reverend Edward Irving.

And like unto the author of "Plymley's Letters."

Of what convent he was prior, and when the convent was built.

V.

He was the prior of Saint Sophia

(A Cockney rhyme, but no better I know)-
Of St. Sophia, that Church in Kiow,

Built by missionaries I can't tell when ;
Who by their discussions converted the Russians,
And made them Christian men.

VI.

Of Saint Sophia Sainted Sophia (so the legend vows)
With special favour did regard this house;

of Kioff; and how her statue miraculously travelled thither.

And to uphold her converts' new devotion
Her statue (needing but her legs for her ship)
Walks of itself across the German Ocean;
And of a sudden perches

In this the best of churches,

Whither all Kiovites come and pay it grateful worship.

And how Kioff should have been a happy city; but that

VII.

Thus with her patron-saints and pious preachers
Recorded here in catalogue precise,

A goodly city, worthy magistrates,

You would have thought in all the Russian states
The citizens the happiest of all creatures,-
The town itself a perfect Paradise.

VIII.

Certain wicked Cossacks did besiege it,

No, alas! this well-built city
Was in a perpetual fidget;
For the Tartars, without pity,

Did remorselessly besiege it.

Tartars fierce, with sword and sabres,

Huns and Turks, and such as these, Envied much their peaceful neighbours By the blue Borysthenes.

Down they came, these ruthless Russians,
From their steppes, and woods, and fens,

For to levy contributions

On the peaceful citizens.

Winter, Summer, Spring, and Autumn,
Down they came to peaceful Kioff,
Killed the burghers when they caught 'em,
If their lives they would not buy off.

Till the city, quite confounded
By the ravages they made,
Humbly with their chief compounded,
And a yearly tribute paid.

Which (because their courage lax was)
They discharged while they were able :
Tolerated thus the tax was,

Till it grew intolerable,

And the Calmuc envoy sent,

As before to take their dues all,

Got, to his astonishment,

A unanimous refusal !

"Men of Kioff!" thus courageous

Did the stout lord-mayor harangue them,

"Wherefore pay these sneaking wages

To the hectoring Russians? hang them!

Murdering the citizens,

Until they agreed to pay a tribute yearly.

How they paid the tribute, and then suddenly refused it,

To the wonder of the Cossack envoy.

Of a mighty gallant speech

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