Patriarch monologue — Boris Godunov: a drama in verse

The Blessed One, The All-Highest, hath instilled into thy soul, Great lord, the spirit of kindness and meek patience; Thou wishest not perdition for the sinner, Thou wilt wait quietly, until delusion Shall pass away; for pass away it will, And truth's eternal sun will dawn on all. Thy faithful bedesman, one in worldly matters No prudent judge, ventures today to offer His voice to thee. This offspring of the devil, This unfrocked monk, has known how to appear Dimitry to the people. Shamelessly He clothed himself with the name of the tsarevich As with a stolen vestment. It only needs To tear it off--and he'll be put to shame By his own nakedness. The means thereto God hath Himself supplied. Know, sire, six years Since then have fled; 'twas in that very year When to the seat of sovereignty the Lord Anointed thee--there came to me one evening A simple shepherd, a venerable old man, Who told me a strange secret. "In my young days," He said, "I lost my sight, and thenceforth knew not Nor day, nor night, till my old age; in vain I plied myself with herbs and secret spells; In vain did I resort in adoration To the great wonder-workers in the cloister; Bathed my dark eyes in vain with healing water From out the holy wells. The Lord vouchsafed not Healing to me. Then lost I hope at last, And grew accustomed to my darkness. Even Slumber showed not to me things visible, Only of sounds I dreamed. Once in deep sleep I hear a childish voice; it speaks to me: `Arise, grandfather, go to Uglich town, To the Cathedral of Transfiguration; There pray over my grave. The Lord is gracious-- And I shall pardon thee.' `But who art thou?' I asked the childish voice. `I am the tsarevich Dimitry, whom the Heavenly Tsar hath taken Into His angel band, and I am now A mighty wonder-worker. Go, old man.' I woke, and pondered. What is this? Maybe God will in very deed vouchsafe to me Belated healing. I will go. I bent My footsteps to the distant road. I reached Uglich, repair unto the holy minster, Hear mass, and, glowing with zealous soul, I weep Sweetly, as if the blindness from mine eyes Were flowing out in tears. And when the people Began to leave, to my grandson I said: `Lead me, Ivan, to the grave of the tsarevich Dimitry.' The boy led me--and I scarce Had shaped before the grave a silent prayer, When sight illumed my eyeballs; I beheld The light of God, my grandson, and the tomb." That is the tale, Sire, which the old man told.