Dimitry, whom the Heavenly Tsar hath taken

Into His angel band, and I am now

A mighty wonder-worker. Go, old man.'

I woke, and pondered. What is this? Maybe

God will in very deed vouchsafe to me

Belated healing. I will go. I bent

My footsteps to the distant road. I reached

Uglich, repair unto the holy minster,

Hear mass, and, glowing with zealous soul, I weep

Sweetly, as if the blindness from mine eyes

Were flowing out in tears. And when the people

Began to leave, to my grandson I said:

'Lead me, Ivan, to the grave of the tsarevich

Dimitry.' The boy led me - and I scarce

Had shaped before the grave a silent prayer,

When sight illumed my eyeballs; I beheld

The light of God, my grandson, and the tomb."

That is the tale, Sire, which the old man told.

(General agitation. In the course of this speech Boris

several times wipes his face with his handkerchief.)

To Uglich then I sent, where it was learned

That many sufferers had found likewise

Deliverance at the grave of the tsarevich.

This is my counsel; to the Kremlin send

The sacred relics, place them in the Cathedral

Of the Archangel; clearly will the people

See then the godless villain's fraud; the might

Of the fiends will vanish as a cloud of dust.

(Silence.) PRINCE SHUISKY. What mortal, holy father, knoweth the ways

Of the All-Highest? 'Tis not for me to judge Him.

Untainted sleep and power of wonder-working

He may upon the child's remains bestow;

But vulgar rumour must dispassionately

And diligently be tested; is it for us,