Classic Poem

SCENE THE TWENTIETH.

Sievesk.

THE PRETENDER. POLISH SOLDIERS A RUSSIAN PRISONER .

THE PRETENDER .

Where is the prisoner?

POLISH SOLDIER .

Here.

THE PRETENDER

Bid him come.
Thy name?

PRISONER .

Roznoff, a Moscow nobleman.

THE PRETENDER

How long mayst thou have served?

PRISONER

Well nigh a month.

THE PRETENDER .

And art thou not ashamed, Roznoff, thy sword 'Gainst me to raise?

PRISONER

'Tis fate, and not our will.

THE PRETENDER .

At Sieversky thou foughtst?

PRISONER .

I thither came
Two weeks before the battle from Moscow.

THE PRETENDER .

And Godounoff?

PRISONER

He was alarmed and grieved
At loss of battle, and sent Shouisky
To take command of all the troops.

THE PRETENDER .

But why
To Moscow has Basmanoff been recalled?

PRISONER .

The Tsar his services has well repaid
With rank and gold, and made him Counsellor
At court.

THE PRETENDER .

His place is on the battle-field.
But how fares it at Moscow?

PRISONER .

All goes well...

THE PRETENDER .

My people long to see their Tsar?

PRISONER .

'Tis hard
To tell; of thee wise men have ceased to speak,
Nor care to have their tongue cut out, or lose
Their head. The saying old has come too true:
Each day its sorrow has. The prisons are
Chockful; and if, by chance, two men do meet
In public square... take heed! some spy is near.
The Tsar himself his leisure time devotes
To hear and probe the rumours of the town.
Once caught, men learn 'tis well to hold their peace.

THE PRETENDER

Boris his friends an envious life provides!
But pray, how are the troops disposed?

PRISONER .

Of what
Should they complain? They are well-clad, well-fed:
Of course, they are content.

THE PRETENDER

And what their force?

PRISONER .

None knows.

THE PRETENDER .

Do they to thirty thousand mount?

PRISONER .

Say, rather, fifty thousand, if not more.

THE PRETENDER .

'Tis well. And what report make men of me?

PRISONER .

With us thy mercy all most highly praise,
And grant that, if... forgive the word... a thief,
Thou art most brave.

THE PRETENDER .

And so, in truth, I'll prove
To them. My friends, we will no longer wait
Their Shouisky. Accept my greetings glad:
To morrow we will fight.

THE SOLDIERS

All hail, Dmitry!

FIRST POLISH SOLDIER .

To-morrow we shall fifty thousand fight,
Who number all but fifteen thousand men;
He has gone mad!

SECOND POLISH SOLDIER .

'Tis nothing, friend! One Pole
Five hundred Moscovites may challenge safe.

PRISONER .

Challenge, may be! but when it comes to fight;
Why, from this one the bragging Pole will run.

SECOND POLISH SOLDIER .

And if thou hadst a sword, most saucy rogue,
I would with this for ever close thy mouth.

PRISONER .

We Russians can get on without a sword:
Wouldst like a taste of this, thou brainless Pole?