Explore "The Cossack. an Ancient Ballad. from the Malo-Russian" by George Borrow on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
O'er the field the snow is flying, / There a wounded Cossack's lying; / On a bush his head he's leaning, / And his eyes with grass is screening, / Meadow-grass so greenly shiny, / And with cloth the make of China; / Croaks the raven hoarsely o'er him, / Neighs his courser sad before him: / "Either, master, give me pay, / Or dismiss me on my way."
"Break thy bridle, O my courser, / Down the path amain be speeding, / Through the verdant forest leading; / Drink of two lakes on thy way, / Eat of mowings two the hay; / Rush the castle-portal under, / With thy hoof against it thunder, / Out shall come a Dame that moaneth, / Whom thy lord for mother owneth; / I will tell thee, my brave prancer, / When she speaks thee what to answer.
"O thou steed, than lightning faster, / Tell me where's thy youthful master!
Him in fight thou hast forsaken, / Or has cast him down, I reckon."
"Nor in fight I've him forsaken, / Nor have cast him down, I reckon, / The lone field with blood bedewing, / There the damsel Death he's wooing. "