First Chorus: We have sown, we have sown millet, Oï, Did-Ládo, we have sown!
Second Chorus: But we will trample it, Oï, Did-Ládo, we will trample it.
First Chorus: But wherewith will ye trample it?
Second Chorus: Horses will we turn into it.
First Chorus: But we will catch the horses.
Second Chorus: Wherewith will ye catch them?
First Chorus: With a silken rein.
Second Chorus: But we will ransom the horses.
First Chorus: Wherewith will ye ransom them?
Second Chorus: We will give a hundred rubles.
First Chorus: A thousand is not what we want.
Second Chorus: What is it then, that ye want?
First Chorus: What we want is a maiden.
Thereupon, one of the girls of the second choir goes over to the first, both sides singing together: "Our band has lost," and "Our band has gained." The game ends when all the girls have gone over to one side.
The funeral wails are also very ancient. While at the present day a very talented wailer improvises a new plaint, which her associates take up and perpetuate, the ancient forms are generally used.
From the side of the East,
The wild winds have arisen,
With the roaring thunders
And the lightnings fiery.
On my father's grave
A star hath fallen,
Hath fallen from heaven.
Split open, O dart of the thunder!
Damp Mother Earth,
Fall thou apart, O Mother Earth!
On all four sides,
Split open, O coffin planks,
Unfold, O white shroud,
Fall away, O white hands
From over the bold heart,
And become parted, O ye sweet lips.
Turn thyself, O mine own father
Into a bright, swift-winged falcon;
Fly away to the blue sea, to the Caspian Sea,
Wash off, O mine own father,
From thy white face the mold.
Come flying, O my father
To thine own home, to the lofty térem.[1]
Listen, O my father,
To our songs of sadness!
The Christmas and New-Year carols offer additional illustrations of the ancient heathen customs, and mythic or ritual poetry. The festival which was almost universally celebrated at Christmas-tide, in ancient heathen times, seems to have referred to the renewed life attributed to the sun after the winter solstice. The Christian church turned this festival, so far as possible, into a celebration of the birth of Christ. Among the Slavonians this festival was called Kolyáda; and the sun—a female deity—was supposed to array herself in holiday robes and head-dress, when the gloom of the long nights began to yield to the cheerful lights of the lengthening days, to seat herself in her chariot, and drive her steeds briskly towards summer. She, like the festival, was called Kolyáda; and in some places the people used to dress up a maiden in white and carry her about in a sledge from house to house, while the kolyádki, or carols, were sung by the train of young people who attended her, and received presents in return. One of the kolyádki runs as follows:
Kolyáda! Kolyáda!
Kolyáda has arrived!
On the Eve of the Nativity,
We went about, we sought Holy Kolyáda;
Through all the courts, in all the alleys.
We found Kolyáda in Peter's Court.
Round Peter's Court there is an iron fence,
In the midst of the Court there are three rooms;
In the first room is the bright Moon;
In the second room is the red Sun;
And in the third room are the many Stars.
A Christian turn is given to many of them, just as the Mermen bear a special Biblical name in some places, and are called "Pharaohs"; for like the seals on the coast of Iceland, they are supposed to be the remnants of Pharaoh's host, which was drowned in the Red Sea. One of the most prominent and interesting of these Christianized carols is the Sláva, or Glory Song. Extracts from it have been decoratively and most appropriately used on the artistic programmes connected with the coronation of the Emperor Nicholas II. This Glory Song is used in the following manner: The young people assemble together to deduce omens from the words that are sung, while trinkets belonging to each person present are drawn at random from a cloth-covered bowl, in which they have been deposited. This is the first song of the series:
Glory to God in Heaven, Glory!
To our Lord[2] on this earth, Glory!
May our Lord never grow old, Glory!
May his bright robes never be spoiled, Glory!
May his good steeds never be worn out, Glory!
May his trusty servants never falter, Glory!
May the right throughout Russia, Glory!
Be fairer than the bright sun, Glory!
May the Tzar's golden treasury, Glory!
Be forever full to the brim, Glory!
May the great rivers, Glory!
Bear their renown to the sea, Glory!
The little streams to the mill, Glory!
But this song we sing to the Grain, Glory!
To the Grain we sing, the Grain we honor, Glory!
For the old folks to enjoy, Glory!
For the young folks to hear, Glory![3]
Another curious old song, connected with the grain, is sung at the New-Year. Boys go about from house to house, scattering grain of different sorts, chiefly oats, and singing:
In the forest, in the pine forest,
There stood a pine-tree,
Green and shaggy.
O, Ovsén! O, Ovsén!
The Boyárs came,
Cut down the pine,
Sawed it into planks,
Built a bridge,
Covered it with cloth,
Fastened it with nails,
O, Ovsén! O, Ovsén!
Who, who will go
Along that bridge?
Ovsén will go there,
And the New-Year,
O, Ovsén! O, Ovsén!