33
And he sprung upon the son of Kublay—
What a fearful, what a bloody struggle!
couching spear 'gainst spear—then eager thrusting,
Each, as if to crush in dust the other.
Then Jaroslaw on his valiant war-horse,
Bath'd in blood, turn'd on the son of Kublay,
And with dextrous push, his lance he planted
In his shoulder till it reached his haunches,
Lifeless on the grass he fell—his quiver
Made a hollow sound which told his story:
Then dismay'd they fled, the savage tatars,
Threw away their long-long pikes, and hurried—
Hurried where they might, in search of safety;
Hurried where the sun just starts at morning.
So was Hana freed from tatar-terrors.Biehase ielen pohorach.
A stag o'er forest, field, and hill,
Wander'd at his capricious will,
Now up, now down the mountain side,
And shook his branching antlers wide,
C 5
