RUSSIAN LYRICS AND COSSACK SONGS

THE SONG OF THE KAZAK

Kazak speeds ever toward the North,
    Kazak has never heart for rest,
Not on the field, nor in the wood,
  Nor when in face of danger pressed
His steed the raging stream must breast!

Kazak speeds ever toward the North,
With him a mighty power brings,
To win the honour of his land
  Kazak his life unheeding flings—­
Till fame of him eternal sings!

Kazak brought all Siberia
At foot of Russia’s throne to lie,
Kazak left glory in the Alps,
  His name the Turk can terrify,
His flag he ever carries high!

Kazak speeds ever toward the North,
Kazak has never heart for rest,
Not on the field, nor in the wood,
  Nor when in face of danger pressed
His steed the raging stream must breast!

Pushkin.

The accent in singing falls sharply on the second half—­Kazak.

CRADLE SONG OF A COSSACK MOTHER

Slumber sweet, my fairest baby,
  Slumber calmly, sleep—­
Peaceful moonbeams light thy chamber,
  In thy cradle creep;
I will tell to thee a story,
  Pure as dewdrop glow,
Close those two beloved eyelids—­
  Lullaby, By-low!

List!  The Terek o’er its pebbles
  Blusters through the vale,
On its shores the little Khirgez
  Whets his murdrous blade;
Yet thy father grey in battle—­
  Guards thee, child of woe,
Safely rest thee in thy cradle,
  Lullaby, By-low!

Grievous times will sure befall thee,
  Danger, slaughterous fire—­
Thou shalt on a charger gallop,
  Curbing at desire;
And a saddle girth all silken
  Sadly I will sew,
Slumber now my wide-eyed darling,
  Lullaby, By-low!

When I see thee, my own Being,
   As a Cossack true,
Must I only convoy give thee—­
   “Mother dear, adieu!”
Nightly in the empty chamber
   Blinding tears will flow,
Sleep my angel, sweetest dear one,
   Lullaby, By-low!

Thy return I’ll wait lamenting
   As the days go by,
Ardent for thee praying,—­fearing
   In the cards to spy. 
I shall fancy thou wilt suffer,
   As a stranger grow—­
Sleep while yet thou nought regrettest,
   Lullaby, By-low!

I will send a holy image
   ’Gainst the foe with thee,
To it kneeling, dearest Being,
   Pray with piety! 
Think of me in bloody battle,
   Dearest child of woe,
Slumber soft within thy cradle,
   Lullaby, By-low!

Lermontoff.

THE DAGGER

I love thee dagger mine, thou sure defence—­
  I love the beauty of thy glitter cold,
A brooding Georgian whetted thee for war,
  Forged for revenge thou wert by Khirgez bold.