Horns, tympans, gusli, tambourines

And trumpets sound. The Prince, grief- worn,

His grey head 'gainst his child's feet leans

With silent tears. Beside him, torn

By mute remorse, dismay, self-pity,

Farlaf stands trembling, white of face,

His brashness gone without a trace.

Soon darkness fell, but in- the city

None closed an eye, and all throughout

The night discussed, grouped near their houses,

How it could all have come about,

Some husbands lingering without

And quite forgetting their young spouses,

But when the twin-horned moon on high

Met dawn, its bright rays slowly paling,

There rose throughout a hue and cry,

A din, a clang of arms, a wailing.

A new alarm! And, shaken, all

Come scrambling up the city wall.

A mist the river cloaks. Beyond it

They see white tents, the glint of shields,

Dust raised by horsemen in the field

And moving carts: they are surrounded;

Up on the hilltops campfires flame...

To such scenes Kiev is no stranger;

It's clear the city is in danger,

The Pechenegs attack again!

While this went on, the Finn, a seer

And ruler of the spirits, waited,

Withdrawn from all the world, to hear

Of happenings anticipated,

Foreseen by him.... Calm, tranquil he:

What is ordained is bound to be.