Which shed its glare into the night,
As beacons radiate their light.
Reclining by his brother's side,
Abstracted and preoccupied,
The Russian, rubicund and hale,
Was importuned to tell his tale,
And slightly coughing from the smoke,
Forthwith in faultless diction spoke:
"My brother's story you have heard,
The same should mine be, word for word,