Tanais Gallery
Victor Vasnetsov. Sleeping Tsarevna.
1900-1926.
Oil on canvas.
214 x 452.
The Victor Vasnetsov Home-Museum, Moscow, Russia.
The Sleeping Beauty in The Wood
Charles Perrault
Once upon a time there was a king and a queen, who were very sorry that they had no children, - so sorry that it cannot be told.
At last, however, the Queen had a daughter. There was a very fine christening; and the Princess had for her godmothers all the fairies they could find in the whole kingdom (there were seven of them), so that every one of them might confer a gift upon her, as was the custom of fairies in those days. By this means the Princess had all the perfections imaginable.
After the christening was over, the company returned to the King's palace, where was prepared a great feast for the fairies. There was placed before every one of them a magnificent cover with a case of massive gold, wherein were a spoon, and a knife and fork, all of pure gold set with diamonds and rubies. But as they were all sitting down at table they saw a very old fairy come into the hall. She had not been invited, because for more than fifty years she had not been out of a certain tower, and she was believed to be either dead or enchanted.
The King ordered her a cover, but he could not give her a case of gold as the others had, because seven only had been made for the seven fairies. The old fairy fancied she was slighted, and muttered threats between her teeth. One of the young fairies who sat near heard her, and, judging that she might give the little Princess some unlucky gift, hid herself behind the curtains as soon as they left the table. She hoped that she might speak last and undo as much as she could the evil which the old fairy might do.
In the meanwhile all the fairies began to give their gifts to the
Princess. The youngest gave her for her gift that she should be the most beautiful person in the world; the next, that she should have the wit of an angel; the third, that she should be able to do everything she did gracefully; the fourth, that she should dance perfectly; the fifth, that she should sing like a nightingale; and the sixth, that she should play all kinds of musical instruments to the fullest perfection.
The old fairy's turn coming next, her head shaking more with spite than with age, she said that the Princess should pierce her hand with a spindle and die of the wound. This terrible gift made the whole company tremble, and everybody fell a-crying.
At this very instant the young fairy came from behind the curtains and said these words in a loud voice: -
"Assure yourselves, O King and Queen, that your daughter shall not die of this disaster. It is true, I have no power to undo entirely what my elder has done. The Princess shall indeed pierce her hand with a spindle; but, instead of dying, she shall only fall into a deep sleep, which shall last a hundred years, at the end of which a king's son shall come and awake her."
The King, to avoid the misfortune foretold by the old fairy, issued orders forbidding any one, on pain of death, to spin with a distaff and spindle, or to have a spindle in his house. About fifteen or sixteen years after, the King and Queen being absent at one of their country villas, the young Princess was one day running up and down the palace; she went from room to room, and at last she came into a little garret on the top of the tower, where a good old woman, alone, was spinning with her spindle. This good woman had never heard of the King's orders against spindles.
"What are you doing there, my good woman?" said the Princess.
"I am spinning, my pretty child," said the old woman, who did not know who the Princess was.
"Ha!" said the Princess, "this is very pretty; how do you do it? Give it to me. Let me see if I can do it."
She had no sooner taken it into her hand than, either because she was too quick and heedless, or because the decree of the fairy had so ordained, it ran into her hand, and she fell down in a swoon.
The good old woman, not knowing what to do, cried out for help. People came in from every quarter; they threw water upon the face of the
Princess, unlaced her, struck her on the palms of her hands, and rubbed her temples with cologne water; but nothing would bring her to herself.
Then the King, who came up at hearing the noise, remembered what the fairies had foretold. He knew very well that this must come to pass, since the fairies had foretold it, and he caused the Princess to be carried into the finest room in his palace, and to be laid upon a bed all embroidered with gold and silver. One would have taken her for a little angel, she was so beautiful; for her swooning had not dimmed the brightness of her complexion: her cheeks were carnation, and her lips coral. It is true her eyes were shut, but she was heard to breathe softly, which satisfied those about her that she was not dead.
The King gave orders that they should let her sleep quietly till the time came for her to awake. The good fairy who had saved her life by condemning her to sleep a hundred years was in the kingdom of Matakin, twelve thousand leagues off, when this accident befell the Princess; but she was instantly informed of it by a little dwarf, who had seven-leagued boots, that is, boots with which he could stride over seven leagues of ground at once. The fairy started off at once, and arrived, about an hour later, in a fiery chariot drawn by dragons.
The King handed her out of the chariot, and she approved everything he had done; but as she had very great foresight, she thought that when the
Princess should awake she might not know what to do with herself, if she was all alone in this old palace. This was what she did: she touched with her wand everything in the palace (except the King and
Queen), - governesses, maids of honor, ladies of the bedchamber, gentlemen, officers, stewards, cooks, undercooks, kitchen maids, guards with their porters, pages, and footmen; she likewise touched all the horses which were in the stables, the cart horses, the hunters and the saddle horses, the grooms, the great dogs in the outward court, and little Mopsey, too, the Princess's spaniel, which was lying on the bed.
As soon as she touched them they all fell asleep, not to awake again until their mistress did, that they might be ready to wait upon her when she wanted them. The very spits at the fire, as full as they could hold of partridges and pheasants, fell asleep, and the fire itself as well.
All this was done in a moment. Fairies are not long in doing their work.
And now the King and Queen, having kissed their dear child without waking her, went out of the palace and sent forth orders that nobody should come near it.
These orders were not necessary; for in a quarter of an hour's time there grew up all round about the park such a vast number of trees, great and small, bushes and brambles, twining one within another, that neither man nor beast could pass through; so that nothing could be seen but the very top of the towers of the palace; and that, too, only from afar off. Every one knew that this also was the work of the fairy in order that while the Princess slept she should have nothing to fear from curious people.
After a hundred years the son of the King then reigning, who was of another family from that of the sleeping Princess, was a-hunting on that side of the country, and he asked what those towers were which he saw in the middle of a great thick wood. Every one answered according as they had heard. Some said that it was an old haunted castle, others that all the witches of the country held their midnight revels there, but the common opinion was that it was an ogre's dwelling, and that he carried to it all the little children he could catch, so as to eat them up at his leisure, without any one being able to follow him, for he alone had the power to make his way through the wood.
The Prince did not know what to believe, and presently a very aged countryman spake to him thus: -
"May it please your royal Highness, more than fifty years since I heard from my father that there was then in this castle the most beautiful princess that was ever seen; that she must sleep there a hundred years, and that she should be waked by a king's son, for whom she was reserved."
The young Prince on hearing this was all on fire. He thought, without weighing the matter, that he could put an end to this rare adventure; and, pushed on by love and the desire of glory, resolved at once to look into it.
As soon as he began to get near to the wood, all the great trees, the bushes, and brambles gave way of themselves to let him pass through. He walked up to the castle which he saw at the end of a large avenue; and you can imagine he was a good deal surprised when he saw none of his people following him, because the trees closed again as soon as he had passed through them. However, he did not cease from continuing his way; a young prince in search of glory is ever valiant.
He came into a spacious outer court, and what he saw was enough to freeze him with horror. A frightful silence reigned over all; the image of death was everywhere, and there was nothing to be seen but what seemed to be the outstretched bodies of dead men and animals. He, however, very well knew, by the ruby faces and pimpled noses of the porters, that they were only asleep; and their goblets, wherein still remained some drops of wine, showed plainly that they had fallen asleep while drinking their wine.
He then crossed a court paved with marble, went up the stairs, and came into the guard chamber, where guards were standing in their ranks, with their muskets upon their shoulders, and snoring with all their might. He went through several rooms full of gentlemen and ladies, some standing and others sitting, but all were asleep. He came into a gilded chamber, where he saw upon a bed, the curtains of which were all open, the most beautiful sight ever beheld - a princess who appeared to be about fifteen or sixteen years of age, and whose bright and resplendent beauty had something divine in it. He approached with trembling and admiration, and fell down upon his knees before her.
Then, as the end of the enchantment was come, the Princess awoke, and looking on him with eyes more tender than could have been expected at first sight, said: -
"Is it you, my Prince? You have waited a long while."
The Prince, charmed with these words, and much more with the manner in which they were spoken, knew not how to show his joy and gratitude; he assured her that he loved her better than he did himself. Their discourse was not very connected, but they were the better pleased, for where there is much love there is little eloquence. He was more at a loss than she, and we need not wonder at it; she had had time to think of what to say to him; for it is evident (though history says nothing of it) that the good fairy, during so long a sleep, had given her very pleasant dreams. In short, they talked together for four hours, and then they said not half they had to say.
In the meanwhile all the palace had woke up with the Princess; every one thought upon his own business, and as they were not in love, they were ready to die of hunger. The lady of honor, being as sharp set as the other folks, grew very impatient, and told the Princess aloud that the meal was served. The Prince helped the Princess to rise. She was entirely and very magnificently dressed; but his royal Highness took care not to tell her that she was dressed like his great-grandmother, and had a high collar. She looked not a bit the less charming and beautiful for all that.
They went into the great mirrored hall, where they supped, and were served by the officers of the Princess's household. The violins and hautboys played old tunes, but they were excellent, though they had not been played for a hundred years; and after supper, without losing any time, the lord almoner married them in the chapel of the castle.
Alexander Pushkin
The Tale
of the Dead (Sleeping) Princess
and the Seven Knights
With his suite the Tsar departed.
The Tsaritsa tender-hearted
At the window sat alone,
Wishing he would hurry home.
All day every day she waited,
Gazing till her dedicated
Eyes grew weak from overstrain,
Gazing at the empty plain.
Not a sign of her beloved!
Nothing but the snow-flakes hurried
Heaping drifts upon the lea.
Earth was white as white could be.
Nine long months she sat and waited,
Kept her vigil unabated.
Then from God on Christmas Eve
She a daughter did receive.
Next day early in the morning,
Love and loyalty rewarding,
Home again from travel far
Came at last the father-Tsar.
One fond glance at him she darted,
Gasped for joy with thin lips parted
Then fell back upon her bed
And by prayer-time was dead.
Long the Tsar sat lonely, brooding.
But he, too, was only human.
Tears for one sad year he shed…
And another woman wed.
She (if one be strictly truthful)
Was a born Tsaritsa—youthful,
Slim, tall, fair to look upon,
Clever, witty — and so on.
But she was in equal measure
Stubborn, haughty, wilful, jealous.
In her dowry rich and vast
Was a little looking-glass.
It had this unique distinction:
It could speak with perfect diction.
Only with this glass would she
In a pleasant humour be.
Many times a day she'd greet it
And coquettishly entreat it:
“Tell me, pretty looking-glass,
Nothing but the truth, I ask:
Who in all the world is fairest
And has beauty of the rarest?”
And the looking-glass replied:
“You, it cannot be denied.
You in all the world are fairest
And your beauty is the rarest.”
The Tsaritsa laughed with glee,
Shrugged her shoulders merrily,
Puffed her cheeks and bat her eyelids,
Flicked her fingers coyly, slyly,
Pranced around with hand on hips,
Arrogance upon her lips.
All this time the Tsar's own daughter
Quietly, as Nature taught her,
Grew and grew, and came quite soon
Like a flower into bloom:
Raven-browed, of fair complexion,
Breathing kindness and affection.
And the choice of fiance
Lighted on Prince Yelisei.
Suit was made. The Tsar consented
And her dowry was indented:
Seven towns with wealthy store,
Mansion-houses — sevenscore.
On the night before the wedding
For a bridal party dressing
The Tsaritsa, time to pass,
Chatted with her looking-glass:
“Who in — all the world is fairest
And has beauty of the rarest?”
Then what did the glass reply?
“You are fair, I can't deny.
But the Princess is the fairest
And her beauty is the rarest.”
Up the proud Tsaritsa jumped.
On the table how she thumped,
Angrily the mirror slapping,
Slipper heel in fury tapping!
“O you loathsome looking-glass,
Telling lies as bold as brass!
By what right is she my rival?
Such young folly I shall bridle.
So she's grown up — me to spite!
Little wonder she's so white:
With her bulging mother gazing
At that snow — what's so amazing!
Now look here, explain to me
How can she the fairer be?
Scour this realm of ours and seek well,
Nowhere shall you find my equal.
Is not that the truth?” she cried.
Still the looking-glass replied:
“But the Princess is the fairest
And her beauty is the rarest.”
The Tsaritsa burst with spite,
Hurled the mirror out of sight
Underneath the nearest cupboard
And when breath she had recovered
Summoned Smudge, her chamber maid,
And to her instructions gave:
“Take the Princess to the forest,
Bind her hand and foot and forehead
To a tree! When wolves arrive
Let them eat the girl alive!"
Woman's wrath would daunt the devil!
Protest was no use whatever.
Soon the Princess left with Smudge
For the woods. So far they trudged
That the Princess guessed the reason.
Scared to death by such foul treason,
Loud she pleaded: “Spare my life!
Innocent of guilt am I!
Do not kill me, I beseech you!
And when I become Tsaritsa
I shall give you rich reward.”
Smudge, who really loved her ward,
Being loth to kill or bind her,
Let her go, remarking kindly:
“God be with you! Do not moan!”
And, this said, went back alone.
“Well?” demanded the Tsaritsa,
'Where's that pretty little creature?”
“In the forest on her own,” Smudge replied.
“And there she'll stay.
To a tree I firmly lashed her.
When a hungry beast attacks her
She'll have little time to cry
And the quicker she shall die!"
Rumour spread and caused a panic:
“What, the Tsar's own daughter vanished!"
Mournful was the Tsar that day.
But the young Prince Yelisei
Offered God a fervent prayer
And departed then and there
To seek out and homeward guide
His sweet-tempered, youthful bride.
Meanwhile his young bride kept walking
Through the forest until morning,
Vague as to her whereabouts.
Suddenly she spied a house.
Out a dog ran growling, yapping,
Then sat down, his tail tap-tapping.
At the gate there was no guard.
All was quiet in the yard.
Close at heel the good dog bounded
As the Princess slowly mounted
Stairs to gain the living floor,
Turned the ring upon the door.
Silently the door swung open
And before her eyes unfolded
A bright chamber: all around
Benches strewn with rugs she found,
Board of oak beneath the ikon
And a stove with tiles to lie on.
To the Princess it was clear
Kindly folk were dwelling here
Who would not deny her shelter.
No-one was at home, however.
So she set to, cleaned the pans,
Made the whole house spick and span,
Lit a candle in the corner,
Fed the fire to be warmer,
Climbed onto the platform bed
There to lay her sleepy head.
Dinner time. The yard resounded,
Horses stamped and men dismounted.
Thick-moustached and ruddy-skinned,
Seven lusty Knights walked in.
Said the Eldest: “How amazing!
All so neat! The fire blazing!
Somebody's been cleaning here
And is waiting somewhere near.
Who is there? Come out of hiding!
Be a friend in peace abiding!
If you're someone old and hoar,
Be our uncle evermore!
If you're young and love a scuffle,
We'll embrace you as a brother.
If a venerable dame,
Then shall 'mother' be your name.
If a maiden fair, we'll call you
Our dear sister and adore you."
So the Princess rose, came down
To the Seven Knights and bowed,
Her good wishes emphasising,
Blushing and apologising
That to their delightful home
Uninvited she had come.
Straight they saw her speech bore witness
To the presence of a Princess.
So they cleared a corner seat,
Offered her a pie with meat,
Filled a glass with wine and served it
On a tray, as she deserved it.
But the glass of heady wine
She politely did decline
And the pie she broke with caution,
Savouring a tiny portion.
Pleading she was very tired,
Soon she gracefully retired
And the Seven Knights conveyed her
To the best and brightest chamber
And, away as they did creep,
She was falling fast asleep.
Days flew by — the Princess living
All the time without misgiving
In the forest, never bored
With the Seven Knights abroad.
Darkness would the earth still cover
When at dawn the seven brothers
Would ride out to try their luck
With a long-bow, shooting duck,
Or to ply their sword in battle
And a Saracen unsaddle,
Headlong at a Tartar go,
Chop his head off at a blow,
Or give chase to a Circassian,
From the forest send him dashing.
She, as lady of the house,
Rose much later, moved about
Dusting, polishing and cooking,
Never once the Knights rebuking.
They, too, never chided her.
Days flew by like gossamer.
And in time they grew to love her.
Thereupon all seven brothers
Shortly after dawn one day
To her chamber made their way
And the Eldest Knight addressed her:
“As you know, you are our sister.
But all seven of us here
Are in love with you, my dear,
And we all desire your favours.
But that must not be, God save us!
Find some way to give us peace!
Be a wife to one at least,
To the rest remain a sister!
But you shake your head. Is this to
Say our offer you refuse?
Nothing from our stock you'll choose?"
“O my brave and bonny brothers,
Virtuous beyond all others!"
In reply the Princess said,
“God in heaven strike me dead
If my answer be not honest:
I've no choice — my hand is promised!
You're all equal in my eyes,
All so valiant and wise,
And I love you all, dear brothers!
But my heart is to another
Pledged for evermore.
One day I shall wed Prince Yelisei!"
Hushed, the brothers kept their station,
Scratched their foreheads in frustration.
“As you wish! So now we know,”
Said the Eldest with a bow.
“Pray forgive us — and I promise
You'll hear nothing further from us!”
“I'm not angry,” she replied.
“By my pledge I must abide.”
Bowing low, the seven suitors
Left her room with passions muted.
So in harmony again
Did they live and friendship reign.
The Tsaritsa was still livid
Every time she saw in vivid
Memory the Princess fair.
Long the mirror, lying there,
Was the object of her hatred;
But at last her wrath abated.
So one day it came to pass
That she took the looking-glass
Up again and sat before it,
Smiled and, as before, implored it:
“Greetings, pretty looking-glass!
Tell me all the truth, I ask:
Who in all the world is fairest
And has beauty of the rarest?”
Said the mirror in reply:
“You are fair, I can't deny.
|
But where Seven Knights go riding
In a green oak-grove residing
Humbly lives a person who
Is more beautiful than you.”
The Tsaritsa's wrath descended
On her maid: “What folly tempted
You to lie? You disobeyed!”
Smudge a full confession made….
Uttering a threat of torture,
The Tsaritsa grimly swore to
Send the Princess to her death
Or not draw another breath.
One day by her window waiting
For her brothers homeward hasting
Sat the young Princess and span.
Suddenly the dog began
Barking. Through the courtyard scurried
A poor beggar-woman, worried
By the dog she kept at bay
With her stick. “Don't go away!
Stay there, stay!” the Princess shouted,
From the window leaning outward.
“Let me call the dog to heel
And I'll offer you a meal."
And the beggar-woman answered:
“Pretty child, you take my fancy!
For that dog of yours, you see,
Could well be the death of me.
See him snarling, bristling yonder!
Come here, child!” The Princess wanted
To go out, and took a loaf.
But the dog its body wove
Round her feet, refused to let her
Step towards the woman-beggar.
When the woman, too, drew near,
Wilder than an angry bear
It attacked her. How perplexing!
“Had a bad night's sleep, I reckon!"
Said the Princess. “Catch it! There!"
And the bread flew through the air.
The poor beggar-woman caught it.
“I most humbly thank you, daughter,
God be merciful!” said she.
“In return take this from me!"
The bright apple she was holding,
Newly picked, fresh, ripe and golden,
Straight towards the Princess flew….
How the dog leapt in pursuit!
But the Princess neatly trapped it
In her palms. “Enjoy the apple
At your leisure, little pet!
Thank you for the loaf of bread…,"
Said the beggar-woman, brandished
In the air her stick and vanished….
Up the stairs the Princess ran
With the dog, which then began
Pitifully staring, whining
Just as if its heart were pining
For the gift of speech to say:
“Throw that apple far away!"
Hastily his neck she patted:
“Hey, Sokolko, what's the matter?
Lie down!” Entering once more
Her own room, she shut the door,
Sat there with her spindle humming,
Waiting for her brothers' coming.
But she could not take her gaze
From the apple where it lay
Full of fragrance, rosy, glowing,
Fresh and juicy, ripe and golden,
Sweet as honey to the lips!
She could even see the pips….
First the Princess thought of waiting
Until dinner. But temptation
Proved too strong. She grasped the bright
Apple, took a stealthy bite
And with fair cheek sweetly hollowed
A delicious morsel swallowed.
All at once her breathing stopped,
Listlessly her white arms dropped.
From her lap the rosy apple
Tumbled to the floor. The hapless
Maiden closed her swooning eyes,
Reeled and fell without a cry,
On the bench her forehead striking,
Then lay still beneath the ikon….
Now the brothers, as it chanced,
Were returning in a band
From another warlike foray.
Out to meet them in the forest
Went the dog and, running hard,
Led them straight into the yard.
Said the Knights: “An evil omen!
Grief in store!” The door they opened,
Walked into the room and gasped.
But the dog like lightning dashed
For the apple and devoured it.
Death that instant overpowered it.
For the apple was, they saw,
Filled with poison to the core.
By the dead Princess the brothers
Bent their heads in tears and uttered
Holy prayer to save her soul;
Nothing could their grief console.
From the bench they raised her, dressed her,
Wished within a grave to rest her,
Then had second thoughts. For she
Was as rosy as if sleep
Garlands of repose were wreathing
Round her — though she was not breathing.
Three whole days they waited, but
Still her eyes were tightly shut.
So that night with solemn ritual
In a coffin made of crystal
They laid out the body fair
Of the Princess and from there
To a hollow mountain bore her,
Where a tomb they fashioned for her:
Iron chains they used to fix
Her glass case to pillars six
With due caution, and erected
Iron railings to protect it.
Then the Eldest smote his breast
And the dead Princess addressed:
“Ever peaceful be your slumber!
Though your days were few in number
On this earth — spite took its toll —
Yet shall heaven have your soul.
With pure love did we regard you,
For your loved one did we guard you,
But you came not to the groom,
Only to a chill dark tomb."
That same day the bad Tsaritsa,
Waiting for good news to reach her,
Secretly the mirror took
And her usual question put:
“Who is now by far the fairest
And has beauty of the rarest?”
And the answer satisfied:
“You, it cannot be denied.
You in all the world are fairest
And your beauty is the rarest!"
In pursuit of his sweet bride
Through the country far and wide
Still Prince Yelisei goes riding,
Weeping bitterly. No tidings!
For no matter whom he asks
People either turn their backs
Or most rudely rock with laughter:
No one knows what he is after.
Now to the bright Sun in zeal
Did the bold young Prince appeal:
“Sun, dear Sun! The whole year coursing
Through the sky, in springtime thawing
From the chill earth winter snow!
You observe us all below.
Surely you'll not grudge an answer?
Tell me, did you ever chance to
See the Princess I revere?
I'm her fiance.” “My dear,"
Said the Sun with some insistence,
“I have nowhere seen your Princess,
So she's dead, we must presume,
That is, if my friend, the Moon,
Has not met her on his travels
Or seen clues you may unravel."
Through the dark night Yelisei,
Feeling anything but gay,
With a lover's perseverance
Waited for the Moon's appearance.
“Moon, O Moon, my friend!” he said,
“Gold of horn and round of head,
From the darkest shadows rising,
With your eye the world apprizing,
You whom stars with love regard
As you mount your nightly guard!
Surely you'll not grudge an answer?
Tell me, did you ever chance to
See the Princess I revere? I'm her fiance.”
“O dear!” Said the Moon in consternation,
“No, I have not seen the maiden.
On my round I only go
When it is my turn, you know.
It would seem that I was resting
When she passed.” “How very vexing!"
Cried aloud Prince Yelisei.
But the Moon went on to say:
“Wait a minute! I suggest you
Have the Wind come to the rescue.
Call him now! It's worth a try.
And cheer up a bit! Goodbye!"
Yelisei, not losing courage,
To the Wind's abode now hurried.
“Wind, O Wind! Lord of the sky,
Herding flocks of clouds on high,
Stirring up the dark-blue ocean,
Setting all the air in motion,
Unafraid of anyone
Saving God in heaven alone!
Surely you'll not grudge an answer?
Tell me, did you ever chance to
See the Princess I revere?
I'm her fiance.” “O hear!"
Said the Wind in turmoil blowing.
“Where a quiet stream is flowing
Stands a mountain high and steep
In it lies a cavern deep;
In this cave in shadows dismal
Sways a coffin made of crystal.
Hung by chains from pillars six.
Round it barren land in which
No man ever meets another.
In that tomb your bride discover!"
With a howl the Wind was gone.
Yelisei wept loud and long.
To the barren land he journeyed
Desperately, sadly yearning
Once again to see his bride.
On he rode. A mountain high
Rose before him, soaring steeply
From a land laid waste completely.
At its foot — an entrance dim.
Yelisei went quickly in.
There, he saw, in shadows dismal
Swayed a coffin made of crystal
Where the Princess lay at rest
In the deep sleep of the blest.
And the Prince in tears dissolving
Threw himself upon the coffin…
And it broke! The maiden straight
Came to life, sat up, in great
Wonder looked about and yawning
As she set her bed see-sawing
Said with pretty arms outstretched:
“Gracious me! How long I've slept!"
Down she stepped from out the coffin…
O the sighing and the sobbing!
Carrying his bride, he strode
Back to daylight. Home they rode,
Making pleasant conversation
Till they reached their destination.
Swiftly rumour spread around:
“The Princess is safe and sound!"
It so happened the Tsaritsa
In her room was idly seated
By her magic looking-glass
And to pass the time did ask:
“Who in all the world is fairest
And has beauty of the rarest?"
Said the mirror in reply:
“You are fair, I can't deny,
But the Princess is the fairest
And her beauty is the rarest!"
The Tsaritsa leapt and smashed
On the floor her looking-glass,
Rushing to the door she saw the
Fair young Princess walk towards her.
Overcome by grief and spite,
The Tsaritsa died that night.
From the grave where she was buried
To a wedding people hurried,
For the good Prince Yelisei
Wed his Princess that same day.
Never since the World's creation
Was there such a celebration;
I was there, drank mead and yet
Barely got my whiskers wet.
1833
Translated by Irina Zheleznova
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