Sviatopolk was thus again left so helpless as to invite attack.  Yaroslaf with eagerness availed himself of the opportunity.  Raising a new army, he marched upon Kief, retook the city and drove his brother again into exile.  The energetic yet miserable man fled to the banks of the Volga, where he formed a large army of the ferocious Petchenegues, exciting their cupidity with promises of boundless pillage.  With these wolfish legions, he commenced his march back again upon his own country.  The terrible encounter took place on the banks of the Alta.  Russian historians describe the conflict as one of the most fierce in which men have ever engaged.  The two armies precipitated themselves upon each other with the utmost fury, breast to breast, swords, javelins and clubs clashing against brazen shields.  The Novgorodians had taken a solemn oath that they would conquer or die.  Three times the combatants from sheer exhaustion ceased the strife.  Three times the deadly combat was renewed with redoubled ardor.  The sky was illumined with the first rays of the morning when the battle commenced.  The evening twilight was already darkening the field before the victory was decided.  The hordes of the wretched Sviatopolk were then driven in rabble rout from the field, leaving the ground covered with the slain.  The defeat was so awful that Sviatopolk was plunged into utter despair.  Half dead with terror, tortured by remorse, and pursued by the frown of Heaven, he fled into the deserts of Bohemia, where he miserably perished, an object of universal execration.  In the annals of Russia the surname of miserable is ever affixed to this infamous prince.

Yaroslaf, thus crowned by victory, received the undisputed title of sovereign of Russia.  It was now the year 1020.  For several years Yaroslaf reigned in prosperity.  There were occasional risings of barbaric tribes, which, by force of arms, he speedily quelled.  Much time and treasure were devoted to the embellishment of the capital; churches were erected; the city was surrounded by brick walls; institutions of learning were encouraged, and, most important of all, the Bible was translated into the Russian language.  It is recorded that the king devoutly read the Scriptures himself, both morning and evening, and took great interest in copying the sacred books with his own hands.

The closing years of life this illustrious prince passed in repose and in the exercises of piety, while he still continued, with unintermitted zeal, to watch over the welfare of the state.  Nearly all the pastors of the churches were Greeks from Constantinople, and Yaroslaf, apprehensive that the Greeks might acquire too much influence in the empire, made great efforts to raise up Russian ecclesiastics, and to place them in the most important posts.  At length the last hours of the monarch arrived, and it was evident that death was near.  He assembled his children around his bed, four sons and five daughters, and thus affectingly addressed them: