Boris Godunov

Book Excerptinding stairs a turret, from whose heightMoscow appeared an anthill, where the peopleSeethed in the squares below and pointed at meWith laughter. Shame and terror came upon me--And falling headlong, I awoke. Three timesI dreamed the selfsame dream. Is it not strange?PIMEN. 'Tis the young blood at play; humble thyselfBy prayer and fasting, and thy slumber's visionsWill all be filled with lightness. HithertoIf I, unwillingly by drowsinessWeakened, make not at night long orisons, My old-man's sleep is neither calm nor sinless;Now riotous feasts appear, now camps of war, Scuffles of battle, fatuous diversionsOf youthful years.GREGORY. How joyfully didst thouLive out thy youth The fortress of KazanThou fought'st beneath, with Shuisky didst repulseThe army of Litva. Thou hast seen the court, And splendour of Ivan. Ah Happy thou Whilst I, from boyhood up, a wretched monk, Wander from cell to cell Why unto meWas it not given to play the game of war, To revel at the table of a tsar?Then, like to thee, would I in my old ageHave gladly from the noisy world withdrawn, To vow myself a dedicated monk, And in the quiet cloister end my days.PIMEN. Complain not, brother, that the sinful worldThou early didst forsake, that few temptationsThe All-Highest sent to thee. Believe my words;The glory of the world, its luxury, Woman's seductive love, seen from afar, Enslave our souls. Long have I lived, have takenDelight in many things, but never knewTrue bliss until that season when the LordGuided me to the cloister. Think, my son, On the great tsars; who loftier than they?God only. Who dares thwart them? None. What then?Often the golden crown became to themA burden; for a cowl they bartered it.The tsar Ivan sought in monastic toilTranquility; his palace, filled erewhileWith haughty minions, grew to all appe