862 A. D.

The Northmen enter Russia

Rurik, Sineus and Truvor and their descendants found

great cities

RUSSIA

I

✓ Pacting

To R. N. Linscott

Darkness broods over the east,

Over the plain, the land of horses;
Darkness and wintry silence
And death.

But a blue-white light from the north
Suddenly flares up at midnight;
And in the glare, on the horizon,
A horseman rides alone.

He sits on his great white horse;
A strong white bow is in his hands;
Beneath his gold-horned helmet
Thick braids of golden hair descend.

He goes forth conquering and to conquer,
He goes forth seeking a golden crown—
From the frozen marshes of the north
To where the rivers bend south-eastward.

A brood of lions follow him,

Shaggy-haired, with broad golden manes;
Eaters of sheep,

Founders of cities.

In the depths of the steppe,

The cities contend with each other for the mastery

Upon the banks of broad golden rivers,

Facing south-westward,

The cities rise:

Kiev with its golden domes

On which there stands the Cross,

Vladimir, Ryazan, Tver,

Novgorod, Moscow.

Lord Novgorod the great

Looks to the north and east;
Moscow sits in the centre,
And dreams.

The heroes go forth every morning
To battle with each other.

At night about the wine-board
They sit, feasting.

1224 A. D.

The Tatars suddenly invade Russia

II

Out of the east

Comes the great dawn;
Red is the dawn,

Red and fearful.

From the south-east

Runs a red horse;

Foam drips from his bridle-bits,

His hoof withers the grass.

Russia pays tribute to the Khan of the Western Mongols

Whose capital

is on the Lower Volga

Dark is the man
Who rides on him,
Clad in black armor,
Lean and yellow his face.

He carries a great black sword

With which to smite the people;

He has power to take peace from the earth.
That men may kill each other.

Under the yoke

The princes pass;
They are his oxen,
He their lord.

Every day in the mills
The grain is ground;

Each day rich tribute

Goes to the Golden Horde.

Down at Sarai

Is the camp of the Khan;
Wearily travel

The oxen thither.

Down at Sarai

The great Khan sleeps,

But the claws of his falcons

Are fastened into the lion's throat.

III

Noonday within the east,

Noonday and a loud sound of bells
Pealing and crying

That the Third Rome is born.

Out of the great red gates
Of the Third Rome
Rides a man in scarlet
Mounted upon a black horse.

A golden cross is on his breast,
A pair of scales is in his hand

With which to measure and fit the earth,
With which to weigh the people's grain.

A measure of wheat for a penny,

And three measures of barley for a penny.
See that thou hurt not oil or wine,
See that the land is tilled.

But woe to thee, city of Pskov!

Woe to thee, Lord Novgorod!

The weight of the law of the Third Rome
Shall break your liberty.

Woe to thee, people of Rus,

Who set at nought the scales of law:

North, east, south, west, you shall wander,
But never find a home.

:

1603 A. D.

"The Troublous Times"

Rise of the
House of

Romanov: Peter
the Great,
1689-1725

IV

Darkness broods over the east,
Over the plain, that land of horses;
Darkness and wintry silence
And death.

Far away to the west
Hangs a great crimson fire;
It is the sunlight departing
Over the plain.

Out of the west there rides

The horseman of the twilight,
The great pale horseman

Whose name is Death.

And he carries in his hand

A lash of thongs;

And he has power to slay

With hunger.

And the eagles of the west

Pass after him;

Sea-eagles unsated

Fan with their dark wings his face.

Darkness settles faster

Upon the plain;

But the man on the gaunt grey horse

Rides on.