The Night of Taras
By the road the Kobzar sat
And on his kobza played.
Around him youths and maidens
Like poppy flowers arrayed.
So the Kobzar played and sang
Of many an old old story;
Of wars with Russian, Pole and Tartar
And the ancient Cossack glory.
He sang of the wars of Taras brave,
Of battle fought in the morning early,
Of the fallen Cossack’s grass-grown grave
Till smiles and tears did mingle fairly.
“Once on a time the Hetmans ruled,
It comes not back again;
In olden days we masters were
This never comes again.
These glories of old Cossack lore
Shall be forgotten nevermore.
Ukraine, Ukraine!
Mother mine. Mother mine!
When I remember thee
How mournful should I be.
What has come of our Cossacks bold
With coats of velvet red?
What of freedom by fate foretold,
And banners the Hetmans led?
Whither is it gone?
In flames it went:
O’er hills and tombs,
The floods were sent.
The hills are wrapt
in silence grim,
On boundless sea
waves ever play;
The tombs gleam forth
with sadness dim;
O’er all the land
the foe holds sway.
Play on, oh sea,
Hills silent be:
Dance, mighty wind,
O’er all the land.
Weep, Cossack youth,
Your fate withstand.
Now who shall our adviser be?
Then out spake Naleweiko,
A Cossack bold was he,
After him Paulioha
Like falcon swift did flee.
Out spake Taras Traselo
With bitter words and true,
“That they trampled on Ukraina
For sure the Poles shall rue.”
Out spake Taras Traselo,
Out spake the eagle grey.
Rescue for the faith he wrought,
Well indeed the Poles he taught.
“Let’s make an end of our woe.
An end come now to your woe,
Arise, my gentle comrades, all
Upon the Poles with blows we’ll fall.”
Three days of war
did the land deliver.
From the Delta’s shore
to Trubail’s river.
The fields are covered
with dead, in course,
But weary now
is the Cossack force.
Now the dirty Polish ruler
Was feeling very jolly,
Gathered all his lords together,
For a time of feast and folly.
Taras did his Cossacks gather
To have a little talk together.
“Captains and comrades,
My children and brothers,
What are we now to do?
Our hated foes are feasting,
I want advice from you.”
“Let them feast away,
It’s fine for their health.
When the sun descends,
Old night her counsel lends;
The Cossacks’ll catch them,
and all of their wealth.”
The sun reclined beyond the hill
The stars shone out in silence still,
Around the Poles the Cossack host
Was gathering like a cloud;
So soon the moon stood in the sky
When roared the cannon loud.
Woke up the Polish lordlings,
To run they found no place.
Woke up the Polish lordlings,
The foe they could not face.
The sun beheld the Polish lordlings,
In heaps all o’er the place.
With red serpent on the water,
River Alta brings the word—
That black vultures after slaughter
May feast on many a Polish lord.
And now the vultures hasten
The mighty dead to waken.
Together the Cossacks gather
Praise to God to offer.
While black vultures scream,
O’er the corpses fight.
Then the Cossacks sing
A hymn to the night;
That night of famous story
Full of blood and glory.
That night that put the Poles to sleep
The while on them their foes did creep.
Beyond the stream
in open field
A burial mound
gleams darkly:
Where the Cossack blood was shed
There grows the grass full greenly.
On the tomb a raven sits:
With hunger sore he’s screaming.
Waiting near a Cossack weeps:
Of days of old he’s dreaming.
The Kobzar ceased in sadness
His hands would no longer play:
Around him youths and maidens
Were wiping the tears away.
By the path the Kobzar makes his way,
To get rid of his grief he starts to play.
And now the youngsters are dancing gay,
And then he opes his lips to say:
“Skip off, my children,
To some nice warm corner,
Of griefs enough;
I’ll no longer be mourner.
To
