Chapter II

From Lyman a black cloud covers
Both the sun and heavens;
The blue sea, an angry monster,
Groans and tosses wildly,
And Dnipro’s great mouths are flooded.
“Come now, boys, and revel!
To the boats! The sea is playing--
Let us go to revel!”

So the Zaporozhtsy started,
Filled Lyman with vessels.
“Play, O sea!”--they started singing
As the waves were foaming.
Waves rose round about like mountains,
Earth and sky were hidden.
Hearts might waver, but the Kozaks
Found it what they wanted.
Now they’re sailing and they’re singing,
Storm birds keep on flying ...
And the ataman who’s leading
Takes them where he wishes.
Up and down his deck he strideth,
His great pipe neglecting;
And he looks in every quarter
For a proper mission.
His black mustache he is twisting,
Pulls his black hair fiercely,
Lifts his cap--The boats come closer.
“Let the foeman perish!
Atamans, not to Sinop,
O my daring heroes,
But to Tsargrad to the Sultan
We will go for feasting.”
“Fine, ’tis fine, O noble father!”
Comes a roar resounding.
“Thank you, sons!”
Again he covers.
The blue sea keeps foaming.
Up and down his deck he strideth
In unceasing motion,
And the ataman in silence
Gazes at the tempest.

+The Night of Taras+

This poem describes the victory of the Kozaks under Taras Tryasilo over the Polish troops of General Koniecpolski at Pereyaslav in 1630. Kozak tradition described this as one of the greatest victories of the Kozak armies and Shevchenko followed the tradition. It is striking that he contrasts more clearly than in _Pidkova_ the present acquiescence of the younger generation in their state of slavery with the valor of their ancestors who were willing to fight even against overwhelming odds. The concluding sections of the poem have been often taken to be an appeal for the renewal of open hostilities but it is hardly likely at this time with the collapse of the Polish revolt less than ten years previously that the poet went as far as this. And even General Dubelt in his attempt to read all possible evil intentions into the poems did not regard it as a direct incendiary appeal but as a poem written to drive home the evil of the present time and to rouse the people to anti-Russian thoughts, if not actions.

+The Night of Taras+

At the cross roads sits the kobzar,
Playing on his kobza;
Round about are boys and maidens,
Red as poppy flowers.
Plays the kobzar and he’s singing,
Telling in his stories
How the Poles, the Horde, the Moskals
Struggled ’gainst the Kozaks;
How the brotherhood assembled
Early on a Sunday;
How they buried a young Kozak
In a boat of green leaves;
Plays the kobzar and he’s singing,
But his smile is evil.

“Formerly we had the Hetmans,
That is gone forever;
Formerly they knew to govern,
Nevermore we’ll do it.
Yet the former Kozak glory
We are ne’er forgetting!
Ukraina, Ukraina!
My dear heart! My darling!
When I tell of your misfortune,
Then my heart starts weeping!
What has happened to the Kozaks
With their crimson tunics?
Where are vanished our old freedom,
Standards, and the Hetmans?
What has happened? Are they ashes?
Has the blue sea swallowed
All your noble, holy mountains
And your tombs so lofty?
Mountains speak not, plays the blue sea.
And the tombs are mournful,
While above the Kozak children
Heathen pagans triumph!
Play, O sea! Speak up, O mountains!
Blow, winds, o’er the meadows!
Weep, O children of the Kozaks!
Such is now your fortune!

“From Lyman a cloud is rising,
From the field, another;
Ukraina’s plunged in sadness--
Such is its misfortune!
Plunged in sadness, drenched with weeping,
Just as little children.
There is no one who can save her
And the Kozaks perish;
Lost is glory and the country;
Nowhere it is sheltered.
So the little Kozak children
Grow up unbaptized,
They must love apart from marriage;
Without priests, they’re buried;
To the Jews the faith is traded;
Churches are barred to them ...
As the crows the meadows cover,
So the Poles and Uniats
Fly around--and there is no one
Who can give good counsel.

“Nalivayko gave the signal,--
He is gone forever.
Then Pavlyuha raised his banner--
Quickly too he vanished.
Then Taras Tryasilo challenged
With his tears so bitter;
‘Oh my wretched Ukraina,
Whom the Poles have trampled.’
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Then Taras Tryasilo challenged
That the faith he’d rescue.
Gave the signal, the gray eagle,
Let the Poles know of it.
Pan Tryasilo gave the signal:
‘There’s enough of weeping!
Let us go, my noble brothers,
’Gainst the Poles to struggle!’

“More than three days and three nights too
Fought there Pan Tryasilo.
From Lyman unto Trubaylo,
Filled the field with corpses.
The poor Kozak was exhausted,
And was filled with sadness,
While the cursed Koniecpolski
Felt more happy daily,
For he gathered all the szlachta,
To produce a triumph!
But Taras called to his Kozaks,
Asked them for their counsel;
‘Otamani and my comrades,
Brothers dear, and children!
Give to me your wisest counsel,
What can we accomplish?
Now the Poles are celebrating,
For we have no leaders.
Let them banquet for their pleasure
And for their successes!
Let the cursed devils banquet,
Till the sun is setting.
Mother night will give good counsel;
Kozaks Poles can locate!’

“The sun set behind the mountains,
Then the stars appeared,
Like the clouds, then came the Kozaks
And the Poles surrounded.
When the moon reached the high heavens,
Thundered out a cannon.
Then the little Polish masters
Fled--but found no refuge!
Then the little Polish masters
Fled--to rise no more;
But at sunrise, Polish masters
Lay stretched out in masses.
Like a winding serpent crimson,
Alta bore the tidings,
That the ravens were assembling
To consume the masters;
That black ravens came together
To awake the nobles,
While the Kozaks came together
Unto God to pray.
The black ravens cawed and cried out,
Eating out the eyeballs;
But the Kozaks kept on singing
Of that wondrous battle,
Of that night that was so bloody,
That created glory
For Taras and for the Kozaks
Who the Poles had vanquished.

“O’er the river in the meadow,
Now a tomb looms blackish;
Where the Kozak blood was flowing,
Now green grass is growing;
On the tomb a raven’s sitting
And it shrieks in hunger.
When a Kozak thinks of Hetmans,
As he thinks, he’s weeping.”

The sad kobzar ceased his music,
For his hands betray him!
Round him all the boys and maidens
Strive to hide their weeping.

Formerly the Kozaks cherished
Freedom and great glory.
Glory lives but bitter slavery
Freedom has devoured.
Formerly they knew to govern.
Nevermore we’ll do it,
But that former Kozak glory
We remember always.

Down the street the kobzar wanders
With his sorrow playing!
Round about the boys are dancing
And he says on parting:
“Let it be without a sequel!
Sit upon the stove, my children.
For the inn I’ll sadly enter
And a burning drink I’ll ask for,
Ask for, drink it to the bottom,
And I’ll laugh at all those foemen.”

+Katerina+

The theme of the country girl seduced by a nobleman and deserted by him was very popular in all European literature from the time of the sentimental novels of the eighteenth century. It was carried into Russian by Karamzin in _Poor Liza_ and into Ukrainian by Kvitka in such a story as _Serdeshna Oksana_ (The Unfortunate Oksana). Shevchenko followed the tradition in this poem but he added the other idea of making the lover a foreigner. The message of the bard in the beginning specifically warns the Ukrainian girls against the Moskals and there is not a word to imply that the manners of the ordinary Russian soldiers as distinct from the officers would be any different.

The poem completes the original collection of the _Kobzar_ with a tragic story of the present. It is the only poem that definitely pins the stigma of oppression upon the Russians, although this is inherent in the other poems. When we remember the frequent identification of an orphan or a widow with Ukraine, we can see that the poet wants the readers to see in the sad fate of Katerina driven into banishment the fate of Ukraine but at the same time he is pleading the case of the seduced girls who have been driven out of their homes. The poem fittingly concludes the _Kobzar_ with its comparison of the past and the present and the survival of that past only in songs and legends.

+Katerina+

_To V. A. Zhukovsky_
_In memory of April 22, 1838_