V.
All the week at the wedding cake
Young women in crowds both mix and bake.
The old man is in wondrous glee,
With all the young women dances he.
At sweeping the yard
He labors hard.
All passers-by on foot and horseback
He hales to the court where is no lack
Of good home-brew.
All comers he asks to the marriage
And yet ’tis true
He runs around so
You’d not guess from his carriage
Though his joy is such a wonderful gift,
His old legs are ’most too heavy to lift.
Everywhere is disorder and laughter
Within the house and in the yard.
From store-room keg upon keg follows after,
Workers’ voices everywhere heard.
They bake, they boil,
At sweeping toil,
Tables and floors they wash them all.
And where is the Servant
who cares not for wage?
To Kiev she is gone
on pilgrimage.
[[55]]
Yes, Anna went. The old man pled,
Mark almost wept for her to stay,
As mother sit, to see him wed.
Her call of duty elsewhere lay.
“No, Mark, such honor must I not take
To sit while you your homage make
To parents dear.
My mind is clear.
A servant must not thy mother be
Lest wealthy guests may laugh at thee.
Now may God’s mercy with thee stay,
To the saints at Kiev I go to pray.
But yet again shall I return
Unto your house, if you do not spurn
My strength and toil.”
With pure heart
she blessed her Mark
And weeping, passed
beyond the gate.
Then the wedding blossomed out;
Work for musicians and the joyous rout
Of dancing feet;
While mead so sweet
Of fermented honey with spices dashed
Over the benches and tables splashed,
Meanwhile the Servant limps along
Hastening on the weary road to Kiev.
To the city come, she does not rest, [[56]]
Hires to a woman of the town;
For wages carries water.
You see she money, money needs
For prayers to Holy Barbara.
She water carries, never tarries,
And mighty store of pennies saves,
Then in the Lavra’s awesome caves
She seeks the blessed wealth she craves.
From St. John she buys a magic cap,
For Mark she bears it;
And when he wears it,
For never a headache need he give e’er a rap.
And then St. Barbara gives her a ring,
To her new daughter back to bring.
’Fore all the saints
she makes prostrations,
Then home returns
having paid her oblations.
She has come back.
Fair Kate with Mark makes haste to meet her,
Far beyond the gate they greet her,
Then into the house they bring her,
Draw her to the table there
Quickly spread with choicest fare.
Her news of Kiev they now request,
While Kate arranges her couch for rest.
[[57]]
“Why do they love me,
Why this respect?
Dear God above me,
Do they suspect?
Nay, that’s not so,
’Tis just goodness, I know.”
And still the Servant her secret kept,
Yet from the hurt of her penance wept.
[[58]]