IX. THE DREAM OF PRINCE SVIATOSLAV OF KIEV

Sviatoslav had a troubled dream in Kiev, on the hills:

"Early this night I was clothed in a black shroud upon a bed of yew. They ladled out for me a blue wine mixed with sorrow. From the empty quivers of the infidel strangers there poured large pearls into my lap. They comforted me. And the beams of my gold-roofed palace were already without girding. During the entire night, since evening, the gray-blue ravens were croaking. And at the foothills of the city of Plesensk appeared a sledge, and this sledge was racing to the blue sea."

And the boyars told the prince:

"O Prince, sorrow has seized your mind. There were two falcons who flew From their father's golden throne, either to conquer the city of Tmutorakan or to drink the water of the river Don with their helmets. But their wings were clipped by the sabers of the infidels, and they themselves were put in irons. It became dark on the third day. The two suns were eclipsed. Two purple columns faded into the sea. Two young moons-Oleg and Sviatoslav became enveloped in darkness. On the river Kaiala darkness overcame the light, and the Kumans, like a brood of panthers, spread across the Russian land. And great violence came from the nomads. Already shame has eclipsed glory. Already violence has defeated freedom. Already the Div has descended to earth. And now beautiful Gothic maidens have begun their song on the shore of the blue sea. They jingle Russian gold. They sing of the foreboding time. They glorify the revenge of Sharokan. And we, the army, are without joy."

And then great Sviatoslav let fall his golden words mixed with tears, saying:

"Oh, my young cousins, lgor and Vsevolod, too early did you begin to disturb the Kuman lands with your swords, seeking glory, but you won it without honour, for you spilled the blood of the infidels without winning glory for yourselves. Your valiant hearts are forged of Frankish steel and are tempered in valour. What have you done to my silver-grey hairs? No longer do I behold my powerful and wealthy, and well-girded brother, Iaroslav of Chernigov, nor his lords. With his Moguts and Tatrans, with his Shelbirs and Topchaks, with his Revugas and Olbers. They used to defeat the regiments (of the infidels), and without shields, only with their knives and ancestors' war cries. But you said:

'Let us be valiant. Let us assume the glory of the past. Let us divide amongst ourselves the glory of tomorrow.'

What is there to wonder, brethren, when an old man feels like a young one? When a falcon moults, he chases birds high and away and does not permit harm to come to his nest. But there is great misfortune, and the Russian princes are no help to me."