From brows ran down, like hail, their sweat,
And fearfully their bosoms beat;
Their heads incline from side to side,
And thus they grapple, to each other tied,
Still struggling on; until the weight
Of Ermák seals his foeman’s fate.
‘The victory’s mine!’—’tis thus he cries:
‘The land before me subject lies!’”
THE YOUNG MAN
“Accomplished is the prophecy,