Alexander Pushkin
The Tale of Tsar Saltan, of His Son, the Glorious and Mighty Knight Prince Guidon Saltonovich, and of the Fair Swan-Princess
Translated: Louis Zellikoff
https://www.marxists.org/subject/art/literature/children/texts/pushkin/tsar.html
Three fair maidens, late one night,
Sat and spun by candlelight.
"Were our tsar to marry me,"
Said the eldest of the three,
"I would cook and I would bake-
Oh, what royal feasts I'd make."
Said the second of the three:
"Were our tsar to marry me,
I would weave a cloth of gold
Fair and wondrous to behold."
But the youngest of the three
Murmured: "If he married me-
I would give our tsar an heir
Handsome, brave, beyond compare."
At these words their chamber door
Gently creaked- and lo, before
These three maidens' very eyes
Stood their tsar, to their surprise.
He had listened by their gate
Whither he'd been led by fate,
And the words that he heard last
Made his heart with love beat fast.
"Greetings, maiden fair," said he-
"My tsaritsa you shall be,
And, ere next September's done,
See that you bear me a son.
As for you, fair sisters two,
Leave your home without ado;
Leave your home and follow me
And my bride that is to be.
Royal weaver, YOU I'll make,
YOU as royal cook I'll take."
Then the tsar strode forth, and they
Palacewards all made their way.
There, he lost no time nor tarried
That same evening he was married;
Tsar Saltan and his young bride
At the feast sat side by side.
Then the guests, with solemn air,
Led the newly wedded pair
To their iv'ry couch, snow-white,
Where they left them for the night.
Bitterly, the weaver sighed,
And the cook in passion cried,
Full of jealousy and hate
Of their sister's happy fate.
But, by love and duty fired,
She conceived, ere night expired,
In her royal husband's arms.
These were days of war's alarms.
Ere he rode forth for the strife,
Tsar Saltan embraced his wife,
Bidding her to take good care
Of herself and coming heir;
While he battled on the field,
Forcing countless foes to yield,
God gave unto her an heir-
Lusty, large of limb, and fair.
Like a mother eagle, she
Guarded him most jealously;
Sent the news of God's glad gift
To the tsar, by rider swift.
But the royal cook, and weaver,
And their mother, sly deceiver,
Sought to ruin her, so they
Had him kidnapped on the way,
Sent another in his stead.
Word for word, his message read:
"Your tsaritsa, sire, last night
Was delivered of a fright-
Neither son nor daughter, nor
Have we seen its like before."
At these words, the royal sire
Raved and raged in furious ire,
"Hang that messenger!" roared he,
"Hang him on the nearest tree!"
But, relenting, spared him, and
Sent him back with this command:
"From all hasty steps refrain
Till the tsar comes home again."
Back the messenger rode fast,
Reached the city gates at last.
But the royal cook, and weaver,
With their mother, sly deceiver,
Made him drunk; and in his sleep
Stole the message from his keep
And, before he could recover,
They replaced it by another.
So, with feet unsteady, he
Reached the court with this decree:
"Have the queen and have her spawn
Drowned in secret ere the dawn."
Grieving for their monarch's heir,
For the mother young and fair,
Solemnly the tsar's boyards
Told the queen of this ukaz,
Of the cruel doom which fate
So unkindly had in wait.
This unpleasant duty done,
Put the queen and put her son
In a cask, and sealed it fast;
Tarred it well, and then they cast
Cask and burden in the sea-
Such, forsooth, the tsar's decree.
Stars gleam in the dark blue sky,
Dark blue billows heave and sigh.
Storm clouds o'er the blue sky creep,
While the cask rides o'erthe deep.
Like a widowed bride distressed,
Sobbed the queen and beat her breast,
While the babe to manhood grew
As the hours swiftly flew.
Morning dawned, the queen still waited
But her son the billows hailed:
"O, you wanton waves so blue –
Free to come and go are you,
Dashing when and where you please,
Wearing rocks away with ease –
You, who flood the mountains high,
You, who ships raise to the sky-
Hear my prayer, o waves, and spare us-
Safely onto dry land bear us."
So the waves, without ado,
Bore the cask and prisoners two
Gently to a sandy shore,
Then, receding, splashed no more.
Son and mother, safe and sound,
Feel that they're on solid ground.
From their cask, though, who will take them?
Surely God will not forsake them?
Murmuring: "I wonder how
We could break our prison now?"
Up the son stood on his toes,
Stretched himself, and said: "Here goes!"-
Thrust his head against the lid,
Burst it out-and forth he slid.
Son and mother, free again,
Saw a hillock on a plain;
On its crest, an oak tree grew;
Round them flowed the ocean blue.
Quoth the son: "Some food and drink
Wouldn't come amiss, I think."
From the oak, a branch he rent
And a sturdy bow he bent.
With the silken cord that hung
Round his neck, the bow he strung.
From a slender reed and light,
Shaped an arrow, true in flight.
Then explored the isle for game,
Till he to the sea-shore came.
Just as he approached the beach,
Our young hunter heard a screech…;
Of distress at sea it told.
He looked round him, and, behold,
Saw a swan in evil plight;
Circling over it-a kite,
Talons spread, and bloodstained beak
Poised, prepared her death to wreak,
While the helpless bird was splashing,
With her wings the waters lashing.
But his shaft, with baneful note,
Struck the kite full in the throat.
Bleeding, in the sea it fell,
Screeching like a soul in hell.
He, with lowered bow, looked on
As, with beak and wings, the swan,
Dealing ruthless blow on blow
On the cruel kite, her foe,
Sped its death, till finally
Lifeless it sank in the sea.
Then, in Russian accents, she
Murmured plain as plain could be:
"O, tsarevich, champion peerless,
My deliverer so fearless-
Grieve not that because of me
Your good shaft is in the sea:
That you'll have to fast three morrows-
This is but the least of sorrows.
Your kind deed I will repay-
I will serve you too, one day;
'Tis no swan that you set free,
But a maiden charmed, you see;
'Twas a wizard, not a kite,
That you slew, O noble knight;
I shall ne'er forget your deed-
I'll be with you in your need.
Now go back and take your rest-
All will turn out for the best."
Then the swan-bird flew from view
While, perforce, the luckless two,
Famished, laid them down to sleep,
Praying God their souls to keep.
Driving slumber from his eyes
As the sun rose in the skies,
Our tsarevich, much amazed,
At a spacious city gazed,
Girdled by a wide and tall,
Strong-embattled snow-white wall.
Churches golden-domed stood there,
Holy cloisters, mansions fair.
"Mother mine, awaken!" cried he-
"Oh!" she gasped; he said: "I see
Things have only just begun-
My white swan is having tun,"
Citywards their steps they bent,
Through the city gates they went.
Belfries thundered overhead
Loud enough to wake the dead.
Round them poured a mighty throng,
Choir boys praised the Lord in song;
Nobles, splendidly arrayed,
Came in coaches, gold inlaid.
All the people cheered them madly,
As their prince acclaimed him gladly,
With his mother's blessing, he,
Acquiescing graciously,
That same day began to reign
In his newly-found domain,
Sat in state upon the throne
And was crowned as Prince Guidon.
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