Epic myths and legends. Russian bogatyrs

Russian epics are a reflection of historical events retold by the people, and as a result, have undergone strong changes. Each hero and villain in them is most often a real-life person, whose life or activity was taken as the basis of a character or a collective and very important image for that time.

Heroes of epics

Ilya Muromets (Russian hero)

Glorious Russian hero and brave warrior. This is exactly how Ilya Muromets appears in the Russian epic epic. Serving faithfully to Prince Vladimir, the warrior was paralyzed from birth and sat on the stove for exactly 33 years. Brave, strong and fearless, he was cured of paralysis by the elders and gave all his heroic strength to the defense of the Russian lands from the Nightingale the Robber, the invasion of the Tatar yoke and the Pogany Idol.

The hero of epics has a real prototype - Ilya Pechersky, canonized as Ilya Muromets. In his youth, he suffered paralysis of the limbs, and died from a blow to the heart with a spear.

Dobrynya Nikitich (Russian hero)

Another hero from the famous trio of Russian heroes. He served Prince Vladimir and carried out his personal assignments. He was the closest of all the heroes to the princely family. Strong, brave, agile and fearless, he swam perfectly, knew how to play the harp, knew about 12 languages ​​and was a diplomat in solving state affairs.

The real prototype of the glorious warrior is the governor Dobrynya, who was the maternal uncle of the prince himself.

Alyosha Popovich (Russian hero)

Alyosha Popovich is the youngest of the three heroes. He is famous not so much for his strength as for his onslaught, resourcefulness and cunning. A lover of boasting about his achievements, he was instructed on the true path by senior heroes. In relation to them behaved in two ways. Supporting and protecting the glorious trio, he falsely buried Dobrynya in order to marry his wife Nastasya.

Olesha Popovich is a Rostov brave boyar, whose name is associated with the appearance of the image of the epic hero-hero.

Sadko (Novgorod hero)

Lucky gusler from Novgorod epics. For many years he earned his daily bread by playing the harp. Having received an award from the Tsar of the Sea, Sadko became rich and set off by sea with 30 ships to overseas countries. On the way, a benefactor took him to himself as a ransom. On the instructions of Nicholas the Wonderworker, the guslar managed to escape from captivity.

The prototype of the hero is Sodko Sytinets, a Novgorod merchant.

Svyatogor (hero-giant)

A giant and a hero who possessed remarkable strength. Huge and mighty, born in the mountains of Saints. As he walked, the forests trembled and the rivers overflowed. Svyatogor transferred part of his strength in the writings of the Russian epic to Ilya Muromets. Shortly thereafter, he died.

There is no real prototype of the image of Svyatogor. It is a symbol of a huge primitive power, which has never been used.

Mikula Selyaninovich (heroic plowman)

Bogatyr and peasant who plowed the land. According to the epics, he was familiar with Svyatogor and gave that bag to lift the full weight of the earth. According to legend, it was impossible to fight with the plowman, he was under the protection of Mother Raw Earth. His daughters are the wives of the heroes, Stavr and Dobrynya.

The image of Mikula is fictional. The name itself is derived from the common at that time Michael and Nicholas.

Volga Svyatoslavich (Russian hero)

Hero-bogatyr of ancient epics. He possessed not only impressive strength, but also the ability to understand the language of birds, as well as turn around any animal and wrap others in them. He went on campaigns to the Turkish and Indian lands, and after that he became their ruler.

Many scientists identify the image of Volga Svyatoslavich with Oleg the Prophet.

Nikita Kozhemyaka (Kiev hero)

Hero of Kiev epics. The brave hero who possessed huge force. Could easily tear apart a dozen folded bull skins. He tore out the skin with meat from the angry bulls rushing at him. He became famous for having defeated the snake, freeing the princess from his captivity.

The hero owes his appearance to the myths about Perun, reduced to everyday manifestations of miraculous power.

Stavr Godinovich (Chernigov boyar)

Stavr Godinovich is a boyar from Chernihiv region. Known for his good playing on the harp and strong love for his wife, whose talents he was not averse to boasting to others. In epics, the role is not the main one. More famous is his wife Vasilisa Mikulishna, who rescued her husband from imprisonment in the dungeons of Vladimir the Red Sun.

There is a mention of the real Sotsky Stavra in the annals of 1118. He was also imprisoned in the cellars of Prince Vladimir Monomakh after the riots.

Bylina. Ilya Muromets

Ilya Muromets and the Nightingale the Robber

Early, early, Ilya left Murom, and he wanted to get to the capital city of Kiev by lunchtime. His frisky horse gallops a little lower than a walking cloud, higher than a standing forest. And quickly, soon the hero drove up to the city of Chernigov. And near Chernigov there is an uncountable enemy force. There is no pedestrian or horseback access. The enemy hordes are approaching the fortress walls, they are thinking of capturing and devastating Chernigov.

Ilya drove up to the myriad rati and began to beat the rapists-invaders, like mowing grass. And with a sword, and a spear, and a heavy club4, and a heroic horse tramples enemies. And soon he nailed, trampled down that great enemy force.

The gates in the fortress wall opened, Chernigov citizens came out, bowed low to the hero and called him governor in Chernigov-grad.

- Thank you for the honor, peasants of Chernigov, but it’s not for me to sit as governor in Chernigov, - answered Ilya Muromets. - I'm in a hurry to the capital Kiev-grad. Show me the right way!

“You are our redeemer, glorious Russian hero, the straight road to Kiev-grad has become overgrown, muraved. The detour is now walked on foot and ridden on horseback. Near the Black Dirt, near the Smorodinka River, the Nightingale the Robber, Odikhmantyev's son, settled. The robber sits on twelve oaks. The villain whistles like a nightingale, screams like an animal, and from the whistling of a nightingale and from the cry of an animal grass-ant all withered, azure flowers crumble, dark forests bend to the ground, and people lie dead! Do not go that way, glorious hero!

Ilya did not listen to the Chernigovites, he went straight on the road. He drives up to the Smorodinka River and to the Black Mud.

The Nightingale the Robber noticed him and began to whistle like a nightingale, shouted like an animal, the villain hissed like a snake. The grass withered, the flowers crumbled, the trees bowed to the ground, the horse under Ilya began to stumble.

The hero got angry, swung a silk whip at the horse.

- What are you, a wolf's satiety, a bag of grass, began to stumble? Have you not heard, apparently, the whistle of a nightingale, the thorn of a snake, and the cry of an animal?

He himself grabbed a tight, explosive bow and shot at the Nightingale the Robber, wounded the right eye and right hand of the monster, and the villain fell to the ground. The bogatyr fastened the robber to the saddle pommel and drove the Nightingale across the open field past the nightingale's lair. The sons and daughters saw how they were carrying their father, tied to a saddle pommel, grabbed swords and horns, ran to rescue the Nightingale the Robber. And Ilya scattered them, scattered them and, without delay, began to continue his path.

Ilya came to the capital city of Kiev, to the wide court of the prince. And the glorious Prince Vladimir Krasno Solnyshko with the princes of his knees, with honorable boyars and mighty heroes, just sat down at the dinner table.

Ilya put his horse in the middle of the yard, he himself entered the dining room. He laid the cross in a written way, bowed on four sides in a learned way, and to the Great Prince himself in person.

Prince Vladimir began to ask:

- Where are you from, good fellow, what is your name, called by your patronymic?

- I am from the city of Murom, from the suburban village of Karacharova, Ilya Muromets.

- How long ago, good fellow, did you leave Murom?

“I left Murom early in the morning,” answered Ilya, “I wanted to be in time for mass in Kiev-grad, but I hesitated on the way, along the way. And I was driving along a straight road past the city of Chernigov, past the Smorodinka River and Black Mud.

The prince frowned, frowned, looked unkindly:

Popliteal - subordinate, subordinate.

- You, peasant peasant, are mocking us in the face! An enemy army is standing near Chernigov - an innumerable force, and there is neither a foot nor a horse there, nor a passage. And from Chernigov to Kiev, the straight road has long been overgrown, covered with murals. Near the river Smorodinka and Black Mud, the robber Nightingale, the son of Odikhmant, sits on twelve oaks, and does not let foot or horse through. Even a falcon can't fly there!

Ilya Muromets answers those words:

- Near Chernigov, the enemy army is all beaten and fought, and the Nightingale the Robber is wounded in your yard, strapped to the saddle.

Prince Vladimir jumped out from behind the table, threw a marten fur coat over one shoulder, a sable hat over one ear, and ran out onto the red porch.

I saw the Nightingale the Robber, strapped to the saddle pommel:

- Whistle, Nightingale, like a nightingale, scream, dog, like an animal, hiss, robber, like a snake!

“It’s not you, prince, who captured me, defeated me. I won, Ilya Muromets captivated me. And I will not listen to anyone but him.

“Order, Ilya Muromets,” says Prince Vladimir, “to whistle, shout, hiss at the Nightingale!”

Ilya Muromets ordered:

- Whistle, Nightingale, half a nightingale's whistle, cry half a beast's cry, hiss a snake's half-thorn!

“From the bloody wound,” the Nightingale says, “my mouth is dry. You ordered me to pour a cup of green wine for me, not a small cup - one and a half buckets, and then I will amuse Prince Vladimir.

They brought the nightingale the robber a glass of green wine. The villain took the chara with one hand, drank the chara for a single spirit.

After that he whistled in a full whistle like a nightingale, shouted in a full cry like an animal, hissed in a full spike like a snake.

Here the domes on the towers grimaced, and the knees in the towers crumbled, all the people who were in the yard lay dead. Vladimir, Prince of Stolno-Kiev, hides himself with a marten coat and crawls around.

Ilya Muromets got angry. He mounted a good horse, took the Nightingale the Robber into the open field:

- It's enough for you, villain, to destroy people! - And cut off the Nightingale's wild head.

So much the Nightingale the Robber lived in the world. That's where the story about him ended.

Ilya Muromets and Poor Idolishche

Once Ilya Muromets left far from Kiev in an open field, in a wide expanse. I shot geese, swans and gray ducks there. On the way he met the elder Ivanishche - a cross-country Kalika. Ilya asks:

— How long have you been from Kiev?

- Recently I was in Kiev. There, Prince Vladimir and Apraksia are in trouble. There were no heroes in the city, and the filthy Idolishche arrived. As tall as a haystack, eyes like bowls, a slanting sazhen in the shoulders. He sits in the prince's chambers, treats himself, shouts at the prince and princess: “Give it and bring it!” And there is no one to defend them.

“Oh, old Ivanishche,” says Ilya Muromets, “you are more stout and stronger than me, but you don’t have the courage and grip!” You take off your calico dress, we will change clothes for a while.

Ilya dressed up in a caliche dress, came to Kiev to the princely court and cried out in a loud voice:

- Give, prince, a almsman to a passer-by!

"What are you yelling at, you bastard?! Enter the dining room. I want to chat with you! shouted the filthy Idolish through the window.

In the shoulders oblique sazhen - broad shoulders.

Nishchekhlibina is a contemptuous appeal to a beggar.

The hero entered the room, stood at the lintel. The prince and princess did not recognize him.

And Idolishche, lounging, sits at the table, grinning:

- Have you seen, Kalika, the hero Ilyushka of Muromets? What is his height, stature? Do you eat and drink a lot?

- Ilya Muromets is just like me in height and stature. He eats a loaf of bread a day. Green wine, standing beer drinks a cup a day, and that's what happens.

- What kind of hero is he? Idolishche laughed, grinned. - Here I am a hero - at a time I eat a fried three-year-old bull, I drink a barrel of green wine. When I meet Ileyka, the Russian hero, I will put him in the palm of my hand, slap the other, and there will be dirt and water left from him!

To that boast, the cross-eyed Kalika answers:

- Our priest also had a gluttonous pig. She ate and drank a lot until she vomited.

Those speeches did not fall in love with Idolisch. He threw a yard-long * damask knife, and Ilya Muromets was evasive, evaded the knife.

The knife stuck into the doorway, the doorway flew out with a crash in the canopy. Here Ilya Muromets, in lapotochki and in a calico dress, grabbed the filthy Idolish, raised him above his head and threw the braggart-rapist on the brick floor.

So much Idolishche has been alive. And the glory of the mighty Russian hero is sung century after century.

Ilya Muromets and Kalin Tsar

Prince Vladimir started a feast of honors and did not call Ilya of Muromets. The hero took offense at the prince; he went out into the street, pulled on his tight bow, began to shoot at the church's silver domes, at the gilded crosses, and shouted to the peasants of Kiev:

- Collect gilded and silver church domes, bring them to the circle - to the drinking house. Let's start our own feast-dining for all the peasants of Kiev!

Prince Vladimir of Stolno-Kiev was angry, ordered to put Ilya Muromets in a deep cellar for three years.

And Vladimir's daughter ordered to make the keys to the cellar and, secretly from the prince, ordered to feed and water the glorious hero, sent him soft feather beds, downy pillows.

How much, how little time has passed, a messenger rode to Kiev from Tsar Kalin.

He waved the doors wide open, without asking he ran into the prince's tower, threw a messenger letter to Vladimir. And in the letter it is written: “I order you, Prince Vladimir, to quickly and quickly clear the streets of the Streltsy and the large courtyards of the princes and instruct all the streets and alleys of foamy beer, standing mead and green wine, so that my army would have something to eat in Kiev. If you don't follow orders, blame yourself. I will shake Russia with fire, I will destroy Kiev-city and put you and the princess to death. I give you three days."

Prince Vladimir read the letter, grieved, saddened.

He walks around the upper room, sheds burning tears, wipes himself with a silk handkerchief:

- Oh, why did I put Ilya Muromets in a deep cellar and ordered that cellar to be covered with yellow sand! Go, is our defender not alive now? And there are no other heroes in Kiev now. And there is no one to stand up for the faith, for the Russian land, no one to stand up for the capital city, to defend me with the princess and my daughter!

“Father-prince of Stolno-Kiev, they didn’t order me to be executed, let me say a word,” Vladimir’s daughter said. - Our Ilya Muromets is alive and well. I secretly gave water to you, fed him, cared for him. Forgive me, self-willed daughter!

“You are clever, you are intelligent,” Prince Vladimir praised his daughter.

He grabbed the key to the cellar and ran after Ilya Muromets himself. He brought him to the white-stone chambers, hugged, kissed the hero, treated him with sugar dishes, gave him sweet overseas wines, spoke these words:

- Don't be angry, Ilya Muromets! Let what was between us, bylyom grow. We've been hit by misfortune. The dog Kalin-Tsar approached the capital city of Kiev, led countless hordes. It threatens to ruin Russia, to roll with fire, to ruin Kiev-city, to captivate all the people of Kiev, and now there are no heroes. Everyone is standing at the outposts and has gone on patrols. I have all my hope for you alone, glorious hero Ilya Muromets!

Once Ilya Muromets cool off, treat himself at the princely table. He quickly went to his yard. First of all, he visited his prophetic horse. The horse, well-fed, smooth, well-groomed, neighed happily when he saw the owner.

Ilya Muromets said to his parobka:

- Thank you for grooming the horse, taking care of it!

And he began to saddle the horse. First imposed

a sweatshirt, and on the sweatshirt he put felt, on the felt a Cherkassy unsupported saddle. He tightened twelve silk girths with damask studs, with red gold buckles, not for beauty, for pleasing, for the sake of a heroic fortress: silk girths stretch, do not tear, damask steel bends, does not break, and red gold buckles do not rust. Ilya himself was equipped with heroic battle armor. He had a damask mace with him, a long spear, girded a battle sword, grabbed a road shalyga and drove out into an open field. He sees that the Basurman forces near Kiev are many. From the cry of a man and from the neighing of a horse, the human heart desponds. Wherever you look, nowhere can you see the end-edge of the force-hordes of the enemy.

Ilya Muromets drove off, climbed a high hill, he looked towards the east and saw, far, far away in an open field, white-linen tents. He directed there, urged the horse, saying: “It is clear that our Russian heroes are standing there, they do not know about misfortune, trouble.”

And soon he drove up to the white-linen tents, went into the tent of the greatest hero Samson Samoylovich, his godfather. And the heroes at that time dined.

Ilya Muromets spoke:

“Bread and salt, Holy Russian heroes!”

Samson Samoylovich answered:

- And come on, perhaps, our glorious hero Ilya Muromets! Sit down with us to dine, taste the bread and salt!

Here the heroes got up on frisky legs, greeted Ilya Muromets, hugged him, kissed him three times, invited him to the table.

Thank you, brothers of the cross. I didn’t come to dine, but I brought joyless, sad news, ”Ilya Muromets said. - There is an uncountable army near Kiev. The dog Kalin-Tsar is threatening to take our capital city and burn it down, cut down all the Kiev peasants, steal their wives and daughters in full, ruin the churches, bring Prince Vladimir and Princess Apraksia to an evil death. And I came to call you to fight with the enemies!

The heroes answered those speeches:

- We will not, Ilya Muromets, saddle horses, we will not go to fight, fight for Prince Vladimir and Princess Apraksia. They have many close princes and boyars. Grand Duke Stolno-Kiev gives them water and feeds them and favors them, but we have nothing from Vladimir and Apraksia Korolevichnaya. Do not persuade us, Ilya Muromets!

Ilya Muromets did not like those speeches. He mounted his good horse and rode up to the hordes of the enemy. He began to trample on the strength of enemies with a horse, stab with a spear, chop with a sword and beat with a roadside shalyga. Beats, strikes tirelessly. And the heroic horse under him spoke in human language:

- Do not beat you, Ilya Muromets, enemy forces. Tsar Kalin has mighty heroes and daring meadows, and deep digs have been dug in the open field. As soon as we sit down in the digs, I will jump out of the first dig and I will jump out of the other dig and I will carry you out, Ilya, and I will even jump out of the third dig, but I won’t be able to carry you out.

Ilya did not like those speeches. He raised a silk whip, began to beat the horse on steep hips, saying:

- Oh, you treacherous dog, wolf meat, grass bag! I feed, sing you, take care of you, and you want to destroy me!

And then the horse with Ilya sank into the first dig. From there, the faithful horse jumped out, carried the hero on himself. And again the hero began to beat the enemy force, like mowing grass. And another time the horse with Ilya sank into a deep dig. And from this tunnel a frisky horse carried the hero.

Beats Ilya Muromets basurman, sentences:

- Do not go yourself and order your children-grandchildren to go to fight in Great Russia forever and ever.

At that time, they sank with the horse into the third deep dig. His faithful horse jumped out of the tunnel, but Ilya Muromets could not bear it. Enemies ran to catch the horse, but the faithful horse did not give up, he galloped far into the open field. Then dozens of heroes, hundreds of warriors attacked Ilya Muromets in a dig, tied him up, handcuffed him, and brought him to the tent to Tsar Kalin. Kalin-Tsar met him kindly and friendly, ordered to untie-unchain the hero:

- Sit down, Ilya Muromets, with me, Tsar Kalin, at a single table, eat whatever your heart desires, drink my honey drinks. I will give you precious clothes, I will give you, as necessary, a golden treasury. Do not serve Prince Vladimir, but serve me, Tsar Kalin, and you will be my neighbor boyar prince!

Ilya Muromets looked at Tsar Kalin, grinned unkindly and said:

“I won’t sit at the same table with you, I won’t eat your dishes, I won’t drink your honey drinks, I don’t need precious clothes, I don’t need countless golden treasuries. I will not serve you - the dog Tsar Kalin! And henceforth I will faithfully defend, defend Great Russia, stand for the capital city of Kiev, for my people and for Prince Vladimir. And I’ll tell you more: you’re stupid, the dog Kalin-tsar, if you think in Russia to find traitors-defectors!

He swung open the carpet-curtain door and jumped out of the tent. And there the guards, the royal guards, fell on Ilya Muromets in a cloud: some with fetters, some with ropes, they get along to tie the unarmed.

Yes, it was not there! The mighty hero tensed up, tensed up: he scattered, scattered the infidels and slipped through the enemy force-army into an open field, into a wide expanse.

He whistled with a heroic whistle, and, out of nowhere, his faithful horse came running with armor and equipment.

Ilya Muromets rode out on a high hill, pulled a tight bow and sent a red-hot arrow, saying himself: “You fly, red-hot arrow, into the white tent, fall, arrow, on the white chest of my godfather, slip and make a small scratch. He will understand: it can be bad for me alone in battle. An arrow hit Samson's tent. Samson the hero woke up, jumped up on frisky legs and shouted in a loud voice:

“Get up, mighty Russian heroes!” A red-hot arrow flew from the godson - bad news: he needed help in the battle with the Saracens. In vain, he would not have sent an arrow. You saddle, without delay, good horses, and we will go to fight not for the sake of Prince Vladimir, but for the sake of the Russian people, to the rescue of the glorious Ilya Muromets!

Soon twelve heroes jumped to the rescue, and Ilya Muromets with them in the thirteenth. They pounced on the hordes of the enemy, nailed down, trampled down all the innumerable force with their horses, took Tsar Kalin himself in full, brought them to the chambers of Prince Vladimir. And Kalin the king spoke:

“Do not execute me, Prince Vladimir of Stolno-Kiev, I will pay tribute to you and order my children, grandchildren and great-grandchildren not to go to Russia with a sword forever, but to live in peace with you. In that we will sign the letter.

Here the old-fashioned epic ended.

Nikitich

Dobrynya and the Serpent

Dobrynya grew up to full age. Heroic grips awakened in him. Dobrynya Nikitich began to ride on a good horse in an open field and trample kites with a frisky horse.

His dear mother, the honest widow Afimya Alexandrovna, said to him:

“My child, Dobrynushka, you don’t need to swim in the Pochai River. Pochai is an angry river, it is angry, ferocious. The first jet in the river cuts like fire, sparks fall from the other jet, and smoke pours from the third jet. And you don’t need to go to the distant mountain Sorochinskaya and go there to snake holes-caves.

Young Dobrynya Nikitich did not listen to his mother. He went out of the white-stone chambers into a wide, spacious yard, went into a standing stable, led out the heroic horse and began to saddle: first he put on a sweatshirt, and on the sweatshirt he put felt, and on the felt a Cherkasy saddle, decorated with silks, gold, tightened twelve silk girths. The buckles at the girths are pure gold, and the pegs at the buckles are damask, not for the sake of beauty, but for the sake of strength: after all, silk does not tear, damask steel does not bend, red gold does not rust, the hero sits on a horse, does not age.

Then he attached a quiver with arrows to the saddle, took a tight heroic bow, took a heavy club and a long spear. The young man called in a loud voice, ordered him to be escorted.

It was visible how he mounted a horse, but not how he rode away from the yard, only a dusty smoke curled like a pillar behind the hero.

Dobrynya traveled with a steamer across an open field. They did not meet any geese, or swans, or gray ducks.

Then the hero drove up to the Pochai River. The horse near Dobrynya was exhausted, and he himself became wise under the baking sun. I wanted a good fellow to swim. He dismounted from his horse, took off his traveling clothes, ordered the couple to drag the horse and feed it with silk grass-ant, and he himself, in one thin linen shirt, swam far from the shore.

He swims and completely forgot that his mother was punishing ... And at that time, just from the eastern side, a dashing misfortune rolled up: the Serpent-Mountainous Mountain with three heads, twelve trunks flew in, eclipsed the sun with filthy wings. He saw an unarmed man in the river, rushed down, grinned:

- You are now, Dobrynya, in my hands. If I want, I’ll burn you with fire, if I want, I’ll take you full of life, I’ll take you to the Sorochinsky mountains, into deep holes into snakes!

It throws sparks, scorches with fire, catches the good fellow with its trunks.

And Dobrynya is agile, evasive, dodged the snake's trunks and dived deep into the depths, and emerged right at the very shore. He jumped onto the yellow sand, and the Serpent flies behind him. The good fellow is looking for heroic armor, than he should fight with the Serpent-monster, and did not find either a couple, or a horse, or military equipment. The couple of the Serpent-Gorynishcha was frightened, he ran away and drove away the horse with armor.

Dobrynya sees: things are not right, and he has no time to think and guess ... He noticed on the sand a hat-cap of Greek soil, and quickly filled his hat with yellow sand and threw that three-pound cap at the opponent. The Serpent fell on the damp ground. The hero jumped up to the Serpent on his white chest, he wants to kill him. Then the filthy monster pleaded:

- Young Dobrynushka Nikitich! Don't beat me, don't execute me, let me go alive, unharmed. We will write notes between ourselves with you: do not fight forever, do not fight. I will not fly to Russia, ruin villages with villages, I will not take people full. And you, my elder brother, do not go to the Sorochinsky mountains, do not trample the little serpents with a frisky horse.

Young Dobrynya, he is gullible: he listened to flattering speeches, let the Serpent go free, on all four sides, he quickly found a couple with his horse, with equipment. After that he returned home and bowed low to his mother:

- Empress Mother! Bless me for the heroic military service.

Mother blessed him, and Dobrynya went to the capital city of Kiev. He arrived at the prince's court, tied his horse to a chiseled pillar, to that gilded ring, he himself entered the white-stone chambers, laid the cross in the written way, and bowed in the learned way: he bowed low on all four sides, and to the prince and princess in person . Kindly Prince Vladimir met the guest and asked:

“You are a burly, burly good fellow, whose clans, from what cities?” And how to call you by name, call you by your native land?

- I am from the glorious city of Ryazan, the son of Nikita Romanovich and Afimya Alexandrovna - Dobrynya, the son of Nikitich. I came to you, prince, to the military service.

And at that time, Prince Vladimir's tables were pulled apart, the princes, boyars and mighty Russian heroes were feasting. Prince Vladimir Dobrynya Nikitich sat at the table in a place of honor between Ilya Muromets and Danube Ivanovich, brought him a glass of green wine, not a small glass - one and a half buckets. Dobrynya took chara with one hand, drank chara for a single spirit.

And Prince Vladimir, meanwhile, walked around the dining room, proverbially the sovereign pronounces:

- Oh, you goy, mighty Russian heroes, I do not live in joy today, in sorrow. Lost my beloved niece, young Zabava Putyatichna. She walked with her mothers, with the nannies in the green garden, and at that time the Zmeinishche-Gorynishche flew over Kiev, he grabbed Zabava Putyatichna, soared above the standing forest and carried him to the Sorochinsky mountains, into deep snake caves. Would there be one of you, children: you, the princes of your knees, you, the boyars of your neighbor, and you, the mighty Russian heroes, who would go to the Sorochinsky mountains, rescued from the full of snakes, rescued the beautiful Zabavushka Putyatichna and thus consoled me and Princess Apraksia? !

All the princes and boyars are silent in silence.

The larger one is buried for the middle one, the middle one for the smaller one, and there is no answer from the smaller one.

It was here that Dobrynya Nikitich came to mind: “But the Serpent violated the commandment: do not fly to Russia, do not take people in full - if he took it away, captivated Zabava Putyatichna.” He left the table, bowed to Prince Vladimir and said these words:

- Sunny Vladimir, Prince of Stolno-Kiev, you throw this service on me. After all, the Serpent Gorynych recognized me as a brother and swore not to fly to the Russian land for a century and not to take it in full, but he violated that oath-commandment. I have to go to the Sorochinsky mountains, to rescue Zabava Putyatichna.

The prince brightened his face and said:

- You consoled us, good fellow!

And Dobrynya bowed low on all four sides, and to the prince and princess in person, then he went out into the wide courtyard, mounted his horse and rode to Ryazan-city.

There, he asked his mother for blessings to go to the Sorochinsky mountains, to rescue Russian captives from the full of snakes.

Mother Afimya Alexandrovna said:

- Go, dear child, and my blessing will be with you!

Then she gave a whip of seven silks, gave an embroidered white-linen shawl and spoke to her son these words:

- When you fight with the Serpent, your right hand will get tired, grow mad, the white light in your eyes will be lost, you wipe yourself with a handkerchief and wipe the horse, it will remove all fatigue as if by hand, and the strength of you and the horse will triple, and wave the seven-silk whip over the Serpent - he will bow to the damp earth. Here you tear-cut all the snake's trunks - all the snake's strength will be depleted.

Dobrynya bowed low to his mother, the honest widow Afimya Alexandrovna, then mounted a good horse and rode to the Sorochinsky mountains.

And the filthy Serpent-Gorynishche smelled Dobrynya for half a field, swooped in, began to shoot with fire and fight, fight. They fight for an hour or so. The greyhound horse was exhausted, began to stumble, and Dobrynya's right hand waved, the light faded in his eyes. Here the hero remembered his mother's order. He himself wiped himself with an embroidered white-linen handkerchief and wiped his horse. His faithful horse began to jump three times faster than before. And Dobrynya lost all his fatigue, his strength tripled. He seized the time, waved a seven-silk whip over the Serpent, and the Serpent's strength was exhausted: he crouched down to the damp earth.

Dobrynya tore-chopped the snake's trunks, and in the end cut off all three heads of the filthy monster, chopped them with a sword, trampled all the snakes with his horse and went into the deep holes of the snake, cut and broke strong constipation, let out a lot of people from the crowd, let everyone go free .

He brought Zabava Putyatichna into the world, put him on a horse and brought him to the capital city of Kiev.

He brought him to the princely chambers, there he bowed in a written way: on all four sides, and to the prince and princess in person, he started a speech in a learned way:

- By your command, prince, I went to the Sorochinskiye mountains, ruined and fought the snake's lair. He killed the Snake-Gorynishch himself and all the little serpents, released the darkness-darkness into the will of the people, and rescued your beloved niece, the young Zabava Putyatichna.

Prince Vladimir was glad, happy, he hugged Dobrynya Nikitich tightly, kissed him on the lips of sugar, put him in a place of honor.

To celebrate, the prince of honors started a feast-table for all the boyar princes, for all the mighty glorified heroes.

And everyone at that feast got drunk, ate, glorified the heroism and prowess of the hero Dobrynya Nikitich.

Dobrynya, Ambassador of Prince Vladimir

The prince's table-feasting goes on half-feast, the guests sit half-drunk. One Prince Vladimir of Stolno-Kiev is sad, unhappy. He walks around the dining room, the sovereign pronounces verbatim: “I have lost the care-sadness of my beloved niece Zabava Putyatichna and now another misfortune-adversity has happened: Khan Bakhtiyar Bakhtiyarovich demands a great tribute for twelve years, in which deeds-records were written between us. The khan threatens to go to war, if I don’t give tribute. So it is necessary to send ambassadors to Bakhtiyar Bakhtiyarovich, to take tribute-outputs: twelve swans, twelve gyrfalcons and a letter of guilt, but a tribute in itself. So I’m thinking, whom should I send as ambassadors?

Here all the guests at the tables fell silent. The big one is buried for the middle one, the middle one is buried for the smaller one, and there is no answer from the smaller one. Then the nearest boyar rose:

- You let me, prince, say a word.

“Speak, boyar, we will listen,” Prince Vladimir answered him.

And the boyar began to say:

“To go to the Khan’s land is no small service, and it’s better to send someone like Dobrynya Nikitich and Vasily Kazimirovich, and send Ivan Dubrovich as assistants. They know how to walk in ambassadors, and they know how to conduct a conversation with the khan.

And then Vladimir, Prince of Stolno-Kiev, poured three charms of green wine, not small charms - into one and a half buckets, diluted the wine with standing honey.

He offered the first enchantment to Dobrynya Nikitich, the second charade to Vasily Kazimirovich, and the third charade to Ivan Dubrovich.

All three heroes got up on frisky feet, took the spell with one hand, drank for a single spirit, bowed low to the prince, and all three said:

- We will celebrate your service, prince, we will go to the land of the Khan, we will give your letter of guilt, twelve swans as a gift, twelve gyrfalcons and tributes for twelve years to Bakhtiyar Bakhtiyarovich.

Prince Vladimir gave the ambassadors a letter of guilt and ordered Bakhtiyar Bakhtiyarovich to give twelve swans, twelve gyrfalcons as a gift, and then poured a box of pure silver, another box of red gold, and a third box of pitched pearls: tribute to the khan for twelve years.

With that, the ambassadors mounted good horses and rode to the Khan's land. During the day they ride on the red sun, at night they ride on the bright moon. Day after day, like rain, week after week, like a river runs, and good fellows move forward.

And so they arrived in the Khan's land, in a wide courtyard to Bakhtiyar Bakhtiyarovich.

Dismounted from good horses. Young Dobrynya Nikitich waved at the heel of the door, and they entered the white stone chambers of the khan. There, the cross was laid in the written way, and bows were made in a learned way, they bowed low on all four sides, especially to the khan himself.

Khan began to ask the good fellows:

“Where are you from, burly good fellows?” What cities are you from, what kind of family are you and what is your name?

The good fellows kept the answer:

- We came from the city from Kiev, from the glorious from the prince from Vladimir. They brought you tributes for twelve years.

Here they gave the khan a confession letter, gave twelve swans as a gift, twelve gyrfalcons. Then they brought a box of pure silver, another box of red gold, and a third box of pearls. After that, Bakhtiyar Bakhtiyarovich sat the ambassadors at an oak table, fed, regaled, watered and began to ask:

On the heel - wide open, wide, in full swing.

- Do you have in Holy Russia at the glorious PRINCE Vladimir who plays chess, in expensive gilded tavlei? Does anyone play checkers and chess?

Dobrynya Nikitich spoke in response:

- I can play chess with you, khan, in expensive gilded tavlei.

They brought chessboards, and Dobrynya and the Khan began to step over from cell to cell. Dobrynya stepped once and another stepped, and on the third khana he closed the passage.

Bakhtiyar Bakhtiyarovich says:

- Oh, you are much better, good fellow, to play checkers-tavlei. Before you, with whom I played, I beat everyone. Under another game, I put a pledge: two boxes of pure silver, two boxes of red gold, and two boxes of slatted pearls.

Dobrynya Nikitich answered him:

“My business is traveling, there is no countless gold treasury with me, there is neither pure silver nor red gold, there is no scat pearl. Unless I bet my wild head.

Here the khan stepped once - he didn’t step, another time he stepped - he stepped over, and the third time Dobrynya closed the move for him, he won Bakhtiyarov’s pledge: two boxes of pure silver, two boxes of red gold and two boxes of slatted pearls.

The Khan got excited, got excited, he set a great pledge: to pay tribute-outputs to Prince Vladimir for twelve years and a half. And for the third time, Dobrynya won the bail. The loss is great, the khan lost and was offended. He says these words:

- Glorious heroes, ambassadors of Vladimir! How many of you are willing to shoot from a bow in order to pass a red-hot arrow along the point along a knife edge, so that the arrow splits in half and the arrow hits the silver ring and both halves of the arrow were equal in weight.

And twelve hefty heroes brought the best khan's bow.

Young Dobrynya Nikitich takes that tight, torn bow, began to put on a red-hot arrow, Dobrynya began to pull the bowstring, the bowstring broke like a rotten thread, and the bow broke and crumbled. Young Dobrynushka spoke:

- Oh, you, Bakhtiyar Bakhtiyarovich, that wretched ray, worthless!

And he said to Ivan Dubrovich:

- You go, my cross brother, to the wide courtyard, bring my travel bow, which is attached to the right stirrup.

Ivan Dubrovich unfastened the bow from the right one from the stirrup and carried that bow into the white-stone chamber. And voiced hussels were attached to the bow - not for beauty, but for the sake of valiant fun. And now Ivanushka is carrying a bow, playing on the guselts. All the infidels listened, they didn’t have such a diva for centuries ...

Dobrynya takes his tight bow, stands opposite the silver ring, and three times he shot at the edge of the knife, doubled the arrow of the kalyon in two and hit the silver ring three times.

Bakhtiyar Bakhtiyarovich started shooting here. The first time he fired - he didn't shoot, the second time he shot - he shot and the third time he shot, but he didn't hit the ring.

This Khan did not come to love, did not like it. And he conceived something bad: to lime, to solve the ambassadors of Kiev, all three heroes. And he spoke softly:

- Won't any of you, glorious heroes, ambassadors of Vladimirov, wish to fight and have fun with our fighters, to taste their strength?

Before Vasily Kazimirovich and Ivan Dubrovich had time to utter a word, like a young Dobrynushka epancha; took off, straightened his mighty shoulders and went out into the wide courtyard. There he was met by a hero-fighter. The growth of the hero is terrible, in the shoulders a slanting fathom, the head is like a beer cauldron, and behind that hero there are many fighters. They began to walk around the yard, they began to push the young Dobrynushka. And Dobrynya pushed them away, kicked them and threw them away from him. Then the terrible hero grabbed Dobrynya by the white hands, but they fought for a short time, measured their strength - Dobrynya was strong, grasping ... He threw and threw the hero on the damp ground, only the rumble went, the earth trembled. At first the fighters were horrified, they hurried, and then all in a crowd they attacked Dobrynya, and the fight-fun here was replaced by a fight-fight. With a cry and with weapons, they fell on Dobrynya.

And Dobrynya was unarmed, scattered the first hundred, crucified, and behind those a whole thousand.

He snatched out the cart axle and began to regale his enemies with that axle. Ivan Dubrovich jumped out of the chambers to help him, and the two of them began to beat and beat the enemies together. Where the heroes pass, there is a street, and if they turn to the side, there is an alley.

Enemies lie lying down, they don't yell.

The Khan's arms and legs shook as he saw this massacre. Somehow he crawled out, went out into the wide courtyard and begged, began to beg:

- Glorious Russian heroes! You leave my fighters, do not destroy them! And I will give Prince Vladimir a letter of guilt, I will order my grandchildren and great-grandchildren not to fight with the Russians, not to fight, and I will pay tribute-outputs forever and ever!

He invited ambassadors-bogatyrs to the white-stone chambers, treated them with sugar dishes and honey honey. After that, Bakhtiyar Bakhtiyarovich wrote a letter of guilt to Prince Vladimir: for all eternity, do not go to war in Russia, do not fight with the Russians, do not fight and pay tribute-exits forever and ever. Then he poured a cartload of pure silver, another cartloader poured red gold, and a third cartloaded heaped pearls and sent twelve swans, twelve gyrfalcons as a gift to Vladimir and accompanied the ambassadors with great honor. He himself went out into the wide courtyard and bowed low after the heroes.

And the mighty Russian heroes - Dobrynya Nikitich, Vasily Kazimirovich and Ivan Dubrovich mounted good horses and drove off from the court of Bakhtiyar Bakhtiyarovich, and after them they drove three wagons with countless treasury and with gifts to Prince Vladimir. Day after day, like rain, week after week, like a river runs, and the heroes-ambassadors move forward. They ride from morning until evening, red sun until sunset. When the frisky horses grow emaciated and the good fellows themselves become tired, tired, put up white-linen tents, feed the horses, rest themselves, eat and drink, and again while away the road. They travel across wide fields, cross fast rivers - and now they have arrived in the capital city of Kiev.

They drove into the prince’s spacious courtyard and dismounted here from good horses, then Dobrynya Nikitich, Vasily Kazimirovich and Ivanushka Dubrovich entered the prince’s chambers, they laid the cross in a scholarly way, they bowed in a written manner: they bowed low on all four sides, and to Prince Vladimir from the princess in person, and they said these words:

- Oh, you are a goy, Prince Vladimir of Stolno-Kiev! We visited the Khan's Horde, your service was celebrated there. Khan Bakhtiyar ordered you to bow. - And then they gave the Khan's letter of guilt to Prince Vladimir.

Prince Vladimir sat down on an oak bench and read that letter. Then he jumped up on frisky legs, began to pace around the ward, began stroking his fair-haired curls, began waving his right hand and exclaimed brightly joyfully:

- Oh, glorious Russian heroes! After all, in the letter of the Khan, Bakhtiyar Bakhtiyarovich asks for peace for all eternity, and it is also written there: will he pay tribute-exits to us century after century. That's how glorious you celebrated my embassy there!

Here Dobrynya Nikitich, Vasily Kazimirovich, and Ivan Dubrovich gave Prince Bakhtiyarov a gift: twelve swans, twelve gyrfalcons, and a great tribute—a load of pure silver, a load of red gold, and a load of pearls.

And Prince Vladimir, in the joy of honors, started a feast in honor of Dobrynya Nikitich, Vasily Kazimirovich and Ivan Dubrovich.

And on that Dobrynya Nikitich they sing glory.

Alesha Popovich

Alyosha

In the glorious city of Rostov, near the cathedral priest, Fr. Levonty, a single child grew up to comfort and delight his parents - the beloved son Alyoshenka.

The guy grew up, matured not by the day, but by the hour, as if the dough on the dough was rising, poured with strength-fortress.

He began to run outside, play games with the guys. In all childish fun-pranks, he was the ringleader-ataman: brave, cheerful, desperate - a violent, daring little head!

Sometimes the neighbors complained: “I won’t keep you in pranks, I don’t know! Take it easy, take care of your son!”

And the parents doted on their son’s soul and in response they said this: “You can’t do anything with daring-strictness, but he will grow up, he will mature, and all pranks and pranks will be removed as if by hand!”

This is how Alyosha Popovich Jr. grew up. And he got older. He rode a fast horse, and learned to wield a sword. And then he came to the parent, bowed at the feet of his father and began to ask for forgiveness-blessing:

- Bless me, parent-father, to go to the capital city of Kiev, to serve Prince Vladimir, to stand at the outposts of the heroic, to defend our land from enemies.

“My mother and I did not expect that you would leave us, that there would be no one to rest our old age, but it is apparently written in the family: you work in military affairs. That is a good deed, but for good deeds accept our parental blessing, for bad deeds we do not bless you!

Then Alyosha went to the wide yard, went into the standing stable, led out the heroic horse and began to saddle the horse. First, he put on sweatshirts, put felts on the sweatshirts, and a Cherkassy saddle on the felts, tightly tightened the silk girths, fastened the gold buckles, and the buckles had damask studs. Everything is not for the sake of beauty-bass, but for the sake of the heroic fortress: after all, silk does not tear, damask steel does not bend, red gold does not rust, the hero sits on a horse, does not age.

He put on chainmail armor, fastened pearl buttons. In addition, he put on a damask breastplate on himself, took all the armor of the heroic. In the cuff, a tight bow, bursting, and twelve red-hot arrows, he took both a heroic club and a long-sized spear, girded himself with a treasure-sword, and did not forget to take a sharp dagger-zhalishche. Yevdokimushka, a young man, shouted in a loud voice:

"Don't fall behind, follow me!" And they only saw the daring of the good fellow, how he sat on a horse, but did not see how he rolled away from the yard. Only a dusty smoke rose.

How long, how short, the journey continued, how much, how little time the road lasted, and Alyosha Popovich arrived with his steamer Yevdokimushka in the capital city of Kiev. They stopped by not by the road, not by the gates, but galloped through the city walls, past the coal tower to the wide princely courtyard. Here Alyosha jumped off the horse’s goods, he entered the princes’ chambers, laid the cross in the written way, and bowed in the learned way: he bowed low to all four sides, and to Prince Vladimir and Princess Apraksin in person.

At that time, Prince Vladimir had a feast in honor, and he ordered his youths, faithful servants, to seat Alyosha at the stove post.

Alyosha Popovich and Tugarin

The glorious Russian heroes at that time in Kiev were not like the rays of an elk. The princes gathered for the feast, the princes met with the boyars, and everyone is sitting gloomy, joyless, their wild heads hung, their eyes sunk into the oak floor ...

At that time, at that time, with a noise-rumble of the door on the heel, Tugarin the dog was swinging and entered the dining room. The growth of Tugarin is terrible, his head is like a beer cauldron, his eyes are like bowls, in his shoulders there is an oblique fathom. Tugarin did not pray to images, he did not greet the princes, the boyars. And Prince Vladimir and Apraksia bowed low to him, took him by the arms, put him at the table in a large corner on an oak bench, gilded, covered with an expensive fluffy carpet. Russell - Tugarin fell apart in a place of honor, sits, grins with his whole wide mouth, mocks at the princes, boyars, mocks at Prince Vladimir. Endovami drinks green wine, washed down with standing mead.

They brought swan geese and gray ducks baked, boiled, fried to the tables. Tugarin laid a loaf of bread on his cheek, swallowed a white swan at once ...

Alyosha looked from behind the baking post at Tugarin the impudent man and said:

- My parent, a Rostov priest, had a gluttonous cow: he drank swill from a whole tub until the gluttonous cow was torn to pieces!

Those speeches did not come to Tugarin in love, they seemed offensive. He threw a sharp knife-dagger at Alyosha. But Alyosha - he was evasive - on the fly grabbed a sharp knife-dagger with his hand, and he himself sits unharmed. And he spoke these words:

- We will go, Tugarin, with you in the open field and try the strength of the heroic.

And so they sat on good horses and rode into an open field, into a wide expanse. They fought there, fought until the evening, the sun was red until sunset, no one was hurt. Tugarin had a horse on wings of fire. Soared, Tugarin rose on a winged horse under the shells and is getting on with the time to seize the time to hit and fall with a gyrfalcon from above. Alyosha began to ask, to say:

- Rise, roll, dark cloud! You spill, cloud, with frequent rain, flood, extinguish Tugarin's horse's wings of fire!

And out of nowhere, a dark cloud came. A cloud poured down with frequent rain, flooded and extinguished the fiery wings, and Tugarin descended on a horse from the skies to the damp earth.

Here Alyoshenka Popovich, Jr., shouted in a loud voice, as if he played a trumpet:

“Look back, bastard!” After all, Russian mighty heroes are standing there. They came to help me!

Tugarin looked around, and at that time, at that time, Alyoshenka jumped up to him - he was quick-witted and dexterous - waved his heroic sword and cut off Tugarin's violent head. On that duel with Tugarin ended.

Fight with the Basurman army near Kiev

Alyosha turned the prophetic horse and went to Kiev-grad. He overtakes, he catches up with a small squad - Russian tops.

Friends ask:

“Where are you heading, burly good fellow, and what is your name, called by your fatherland?”

The hero answers the combatants:

— I am Alyosha Popovich. He fought and fought in an open field with the puffed-up Tugarin, cut off his wild head, and that's the food to the capital city of Kiev.

Alyosha rides with combatants, and they see: near the city of Kiev, the Basurman army stands.

Surrounded, overlaid with city walls from all four sides. And so much power of that unfaithful force has been caught up that from the cry of the infidel, from the neighing of a horse, and from the creak of a cart, the noise is as if thunder rumbles, and the human heart desponds. Near the army, a Basurman rider-hero rides around the open field, yells in a loud voice, boasts:

- We will wipe Kiev-city from the face of the earth, we will burn all the houses and God's churches with fire, we will roll the brand, we will cut down all the townspeople, we will take the boyars and Prince Vladimir in full and force us to walk in the Horde in shepherds, milk the mares!

When they saw the innumerable power of the Basurmans, and heard the boastful speeches of the praising rider Alyosha, fellow vigilantes held back their zealous horses, frowned, hesitated.

And Alyosha Popovich was hot-assertive. Where it is impossible to take by force, he swooped down there. He shouted in a loud voice:

- You are a goy, good squad! Two deaths cannot happen, but one cannot be avoided. It’s better for us to lay down our heads in battle than for the glorious city of Kiev to experience shame! We will attack an uncountable army, we will free the great Kiev city from misfortune, and our merit will not be forgotten, it will pass, a loud glory will sweep about us: the old Cossack Ilya Muromets, son of Ivanovich, will hear about us. For our courage, he will bow to us - either not honor, not glory!

Alyosha Popovich, Jr., with his brave retinue, attacked the enemy hordes. They beat the infidels like they mow grass: sometimes with a sword, sometimes with a spear, sometimes with a heavy battle club. Alyosha Popovich took out the most important hero-praiser with a sharp sword and cut and broke him in two. Then horror-fear attacked the enemies. The opponents could not resist, fled wherever their eyes looked. And the road to the capital city of Kiev was cleared.

Epics - a poetic heroic epic of Ancient Russia, reflecting the events historical life Russian people. The ancient name of epics in the Russian north is "old". The modern name of the genre - epics - was introduced in the first half of the 19th century by the folklorist I. Sakharov on the basis of the well-known expression from "The Tale of Igor's Campaign" - "epics of this time."

The time for adding epics is determined in different ways. Some scientists believe that this is an early genre that has developed back in the days of Kievan Rus(10-11 centuries), others are a late genre that arose in the Middle Ages, during the creation and strengthening of the Moscow centralized state. The epic genre reached its peak in the 17th and 18th centuries, and by the 20th century it was falling into oblivion.

Epics, according to V.P. Anikin, are “heroic songs that arose as an expression of the historical consciousness of the people in the East Slavic era and developed in the conditions of Ancient Russia ...”

Epics reproduce the ideals of social justice, glorify Russian heroes as defenders of the people. They expressed public moral and aesthetic ideals, reflecting historical reality in images. In epics, the vital basis is connected with fiction. They have a solemnly pathetic tone, their style corresponds to the purpose of glorifying extraordinary people and majestic events of history.

The well-known folklorist P.N. Rybnikov recalled the high emotional impact of epics on listeners. For the first time he heard a live performance of the epic twelve kilometers from Petrozavodsk, on the island of Shui-Navolok. After a difficult voyage on the spring, stormy Lake Onega, having settled down for the night by the fire, Rybnikov imperceptibly fell asleep ...

“I was awakened,” he recalled, “ strange noises: before that I had heard a lot of songs and spiritual verses, but I had never heard such a tune. Lively, whimsical and cheerful, sometimes it became faster, sometimes it broke off and in its own way resembled something ancient, forgotten by our generation. For a long time I did not want to wake up and listen to the individual words of the song: it was so joyful to remain in the grip of a completely new impression. Through my drowsiness, I saw that several peasants were sitting three paces from me, and a gray-haired old man with a bushy white beard, quick eyes and a good-natured expression on his face was singing. Squatting down by the dying fire, he turned now to one neighbor, then to another, and sang his song, interrupting it sometimes with a smile. The singer finished and began to sing another song; then I made out that the epic was being sung about Sadka the merchant, a rich guest. Of course, I was immediately on my feet, persuaded the peasant to repeat what he had sung, and wrote it down from his words. My new acquaintance Leonty Bogdanovich from the village of Seredki, Kizhi volost, promised me to tell a lot of epics ... Later I heard a lot of rare epics, I remember the ancient excellent tunes; their singers sang with excellent voice and masterful diction, and to tell the truth, I have never felt such a fresh impression.

The main characters of epics are heroes. They embody the ideal of a courageous person devoted to his homeland and people. The hero fights alone against hordes of enemy forces. Among the epics, a group of the most ancient stands out. These are the so-called epics about the "senior" heroes, whose heroes are the personification of the unknown forces of nature, associated with mythology. Such are Svyatogor and Volkhv Vseslavievich, the Danube and Mikhailo Potrysk.

In the second period of its history, the ancient heroes were replaced by the heroes of the new time - Ilya Muromets, Dobrynya Nikitich and Alyosha Popovich. These are the heroes of the so-called Kiev cycle of epics. Cyclization refers to the unification of epics around individual characters and places of action. This is how the Kiev cycle of epics associated with the city of Kiev developed.

Most epics depict the world of Kievan Rus. Heroes go to Kiev to serve Prince Vladimir, they protect him from enemy hordes. The content of these epics is predominantly heroic, military in nature.

Another major center ancient Russian state was Novgorod. Epics of the Novgorod cycle - everyday, short stories (Novella - a small prose narrative genre of literature). The heroes of these epics were merchants, princes, peasants, guslars (Sadko, Volga, Mikula, Vasily Buslaev, Blud Khotenovich).

The world depicted in epics is the whole Russian land. So, Ilya Muromets from the outpost of the heroic sees high mountains, green meadows, dark forests. The epic world is “bright” and “sunny”, but it is threatened by enemy forces: dark clouds, fog, thunderstorm are approaching, the sun and stars are fading from countless enemy hordes. This is a world of opposition between good and evil, light and dark forces. In it, the heroes struggle with the manifestation of evil, violence. Without this struggle, the epic world is impossible.

Each hero has a certain dominant character trait. Ilya Muromets personifies strength, this is the most powerful Russian hero after Svyatogor. Dobrynya is also a strong and brave warrior, a snake fighter, but also a hero-diplomat. Prince Vladimir sends him on special diplomatic missions. Alyosha Popovich personifies ingenuity and cunning. “He won’t take it by force, so by cunning,” epics say about him.

Monumental images of heroes and grandiose accomplishments are the fruit of artistic generalization, the embodiment in one person of the abilities and strength of a people or social group, an exaggeration of what really exists, that is, hyperbolization (Hyperbole is an artistic technique based on the exaggeration of certain properties of an object to create an artistic image) and idealization (Idealization is the elevation of the qualities of an object or person to an absolute). The poetic language of epics is solemnly melodious and rhythmically organized, and its special artistic means- comparisons, metaphors, epithets - reproduce pictures and images epicly sublime, grandiose, and when depicting enemies, terrible, ugly.

In different epics, motifs and images, plot elements, identical scenes, lines and groups of lines are repeated. So through all the epics of the Kiev cycle pass the images of Prince Vladimir, the city of Kiev, heroes.

Epics, like other works folk art, do not have fixed text. Passed from mouth to mouth, they changed, varied. Each epic had infinite set options.

In epics, fabulous miracles are performed: the reincarnation of characters, the resurrection of the dead, werewolves. They contain mythological images of enemies and fantastic elements, but fantasy is different than in a fairy tale. It is based on folk-historical ideas.

The well-known folklorist of the 19th century A.F. Gilferding wrote: “When a person doubts that a hero could wear a club of forty pounds or one put a whole army on the spot, epic poetry killed in it. And many signs convinced me that the North Russian peasant who sings epics, and the vast majority of those who listen to him, unconditionally believe in the truth of the miracles that are depicted in the epics. Bylina preserved historical memory. Miracles were perceived as history in the life of the people.

There are many historically reliable signs in the epics: a description of the details, ancient weapons of warriors (sword, shield, spear, helmet, chain mail). They glorify Kiev-grad, Chernihiv, Murom, Galich. Others are called ancient Russian cities. Events are unfolding in ancient Novgorod as well. They include the names of some historical figures: Prince Vladimir Svyatoslavich, Vladimir Vsevolodovich Monomakh. These princes were united in popular imagination into one collective image Prince Vladimir - "red sun".

In epics there is a lot of fantasy, fiction. But fiction is poetic truth. The epics reflected the historical conditions of the life of the Slavic people: the aggressive campaigns of the Pechenegs, Polovtsy in Russia. The ruin of villages, full of women and children, plunder of wealth.

Later, in the 13th-14th centuries, Russia was under the yoke of the Mongol-Tatars, which is also reflected in the epics. During the years of testing people, he instilled love for his native land. It is no coincidence that the epic is a heroic folk song about the feat of the defenders of the Russian land.

But epics depict not only the heroic deeds of heroes, enemy invasions, battles, but also everyday human life in its social manifestations and historical conditions. This is reflected in the cycle of Novgorod epics. In them, the heroes are noticeably different among the epic heroes of the Russian epic. Epics about Sadko and Vasily Buslaev are not just new original themes and plots, but also new epic images, new types of heroes that other epic cycles do not know. The Novgorod bogatyrs differ from the bogatyrs of the heroic cycle primarily in that they do not perform feats of arms. This is explained by the fact that Novgorod escaped the Horde invasion, the hordes of Batu did not reach the city. However, Novgorodians could not only rebel (V. Buslaev) and play the harp (Sadko), but fight and win brilliant victories over the conquerors from the west.

Vasily Buslaev appears as the Novgorod hero. Two epics are dedicated to him. One of them speaks of the political struggle in Novgorod, in which he takes part. Vaska Buslaev rebels against the townspeople, comes to feasts and starts quarrels with “rich merchants”, “mtuzhiks (men) of Novgorod”, enters into a duel with the “old man” Pilgrim, a representative of the church. With his retinue, he "fights, fights day to evening." The townspeople "submitted and reconciled" and pledged to pay "three thousand every year." Thus, the epic depicts a clash between the rich Novgorod posad, eminent peasants and those citizens who defended the independence of the city.

The rebelliousness of the hero is manifested even in his death. In the epic “How Vaska Buslaev went to pray,” he violates prohibitions even at the Holy Sepulcher in Jerusalem, bathing naked in the Jordan River. There he dies, remaining a sinner. V. G. Belinsky wrote that "Vasily's death comes directly from his character, daring and violent, which seems to be asking for trouble and death."

One of the most poetic and fabulous epics of the Novgorod cycle is the epic "Sadko". V. G. Belinsky defined the epic “as one of the pearls of Russian folk poetry, a poetic “apotheosis” of Novgorod. Sadko is a poor harpman who became rich thanks to the skillful playing of the harp and the patronage of the Sea King. As a hero, he expresses infinite strength and infinite prowess. Sadko loves his land, his city, his family. Therefore, he refuses the untold riches offered to him and returns home.

So, epics are poetic, artistic works. They have a lot of unexpected, surprising, incredible. However, they are basically true, they convey the people's understanding of history, the people's idea of ​​duty, honor, and justice. At the same time, they are skillfully built, their language is peculiar.

Features of the epic as a genre:

Epics created tonic (it is also called epic), folk verse . In works created by tonic verse, in poetic lines there may be different amount syllables, but there should be a relatively equal number of stresses. In an epic verse, the first stress, as a rule, falls on the third syllable from the beginning, and the last stress on the third syllable from the end.

Epics are typical combination of real , which have a clear historical meaning and are conditioned by the reality of images (the image of Kiev, the capital prince Vladimir) with fantastic images (Serpent Gorynych, Nightingale the Robber). But the leading ones in epics are images generated by historical reality.

Often epic starts with a chant . In its content, it is not related to what is presented in the epic, but represents an independent picture that precedes the main epic story. Exodus - this is the ending of the epic, brief conclusion, summing up, or a joke (“there is an old thing, then an act”, “that’s where the old thing ended”).

Bylina usually starts from the beginning , which determines the place and time of action. Following him is given exposition , in which the hero of the work stands out most often using the contrast technique.

The image of the hero is at the center of the whole story. The epic greatness of the image of the epic hero is created by revealing his noble feelings and experiences, the qualities of the hero are revealed in his actions.

triple or trinity in epics is one of the main methods of depiction (three heroes stand at the heroic outpost, the hero makes three trips - “Three trips of Ilya”, Sadko three times the Novgorod merchants are not invited to the feast, he also casts lots three times, etc. ). All these elements (trinity of persons, threefold action, verbal repetitions) are present in all epics.

They play a big role hyperbole , used to describe the hero and his feat. The description of the enemies is hyperbolic (Tugarin, the Nightingale the Robber), and the description of the strength of the warrior-hero is also exaggerated. There are fantastic elements in this.

In the main narrative part, epics are widely used methods of parallelism, stepwise narrowing of images, antitheses .

The text of the epic is divided into permanent and transitional places. Transitional places are parts of the text created or improvised by the narrators during performance; permanent places - stable, slightly changeable, repeated in various epics (heroic battle, hero's trips, horse saddle, etc.). Narrators usually learn with more or less accuracy and repeat them in the course of action. The narrator speaks freely in transitional places, changing the text, partially improvising it. The combination of constant and transitional places in the singing of epics is one of the genre features of the Old Russian epic.

Dobrynya

I’ll take a sonorous, yarovchatye harp and set the harp in the old fashion, I’ll start an old-fashioned, old-fashioned story about the deeds of the Slavic Russian hero Dobrynya Nikitich. To the blue sea for silence, and kind people for obedience.

In a glorious city, in Ryazan, there lived an honest husband Nikita Romanovich with his faithful wife Afimya Alexandrovna. And to the delight of his father and mother, their only son grew up, young Dobrynya Nikitich.

Here Nikita Romanovich lived for ninety years, lived and got on, but passed away.

Afimya Alexandrovna was a widow, Dobrynya was an orphan of six years. And at the age of seven, Afimya Alexandrovna sent her son to learn to read and write. And soon, soon, his diploma in science went: Dobrynya learned to read books smartly and wield an eagle feather more quickly.

And for twelve years he played the harp. He played the harp, composed songs.

The honest widow Afimya Alexandrovna looks at her son and is overjoyed. Dobrynya grows broad in the shoulders, thin in the waist, black sable eyebrows, sharp-sighted falcon eyes, fair-haired curls curl in rings, crumble, his face is white and blush, exactly poppy color, and he has no equal in strength and grip, and he himself is affectionate, courteous.

Dobrynya and the snake

And now Dobrynya grew up to full age. Heroic grips awakened in him. Dobrynya Nikitich began to ride on a good horse in an open field and trample kites with a frisky horse.

His dear mother, the honest widow Afimya Alexandrovna, said to him:

“My child, Dobrynushka, you don’t need to swim in the Pochai River. Pochai is an angry river, it is angry, ferocious. The first jet in the river cuts like fire, sparks fall from the other jet, and smoke pours from the third jet. And you don’t need to go to the distant mountain Sorochinskaya and go there to snake holes-caves.

Young Dobrynya Nikitich did not listen to his mother. He went out of the white-stone chambers into a wide, spacious courtyard, went into a standing stable, led out the heroic horse and began to saddle: first he put on a sweatshirt, and on the sweatshirt he put felt, and on the felt - a Cherkasy saddle, decorated with silks, gold, tightened twelve silk girths . The buckles at the girths are pure gold, and the pegs at the buckles are damask1, not for the sake of bass-beauty2, but for the sake of strength: after all, silk does not tear, damask steel does not bend, red gold does not rust, the hero sits on a horse, does not age.

Then he attached a quiver with arrows to the saddle, took a tight heroic bow, took a heavy club and a long spear. The young man called in a loud voice, ordered him to be escorted.

It was visible how he mounted a horse, but not how he rode away from the yard, only a dusty smoke1 curled a pillar behind the hero.

Dobrynya traveled with a steamer across an open field. They did not meet any geese, or swans, or gray ducks. Then the hero drove up to the Pochai River. The horse near Dobrynya was exhausted, and he himself became wise under the baking sun. I wanted a good fellow to swim. He dismounted from his horse, took off his traveling clothes, ordered the couple to drag the horse and feed it with silk grass-ant, and he himself, in one thin linen shirt, swam far from the shore.

He swims and completely forgot that mother was punishing ... And at that time, just from the eastern side, a dashing misfortune rolled up: the Serpent-Gorynishche flew in with three heads, twelve trunks, eclipsed the sun with filthy wings. He saw an unarmed man in the river, rushed down, grinned:

“You are in my hands now, Dobrynya. If I want, I'll burn you with fire, if I want, I'll take you alive, I'll take you to the Sorochinsky mountains, into deep holes into snakes!

The Snake-Gorynyshche pours sparks, burns with fire, manages to grab the good fellow with its trunks.

And Dobrynya was agile, evasive, he dodged the snake's trunks and dived deep into the depths, and emerged right at the shore. He jumped onto the yellow sand, and the Serpent flies behind him.

The good fellow is looking for heroic armor, than he can fight with the Serpent-monster, and he did not find either a couple, or a horse, or military equipment.

The little fellow of the Serpent-Gorynishcha was frightened, he ran away and drove away the horse with armor.

Dobrynya sees: things are not right, and he has no time to think and guess ... He noticed on the sand a cap-hat of Greek soil, and quickly, soon filled his hat with yellow sand and threw that three-pound cap at the opponent. The Serpent fell on the damp ground. The hero jumped up to the Serpent on his white chest, he wants to kill him. Then the filthy monster pleaded:

- Young Dobrynushka Nikitich! Don't beat me, don't execute me, let me go alive, unharmed. We will write notes between ourselves with you: do not fight forever, do not fight. I will not fly to Russia, ruin villages with villages, I will not take people full of people. And you, my elder brother, do not go to the Sorochinsky mountains, do not trample the little serpents with a frisky horse.

Young Dobrynya, he is gullible: he listened to flattering speeches, let the Serpent go free, on all four sides, he quickly, soon found a couple with his horse, with equipment. After that he returned home and bowed low to his mother:

- Empress Mother! Bless me for the heroic military service.

Mother blessed him, and Dobrynya went to the capital city of Kiev. He arrived at the prince's court, tied his horse to a chiseled pillar, to that gilded ring, he himself entered the white-stone chambers, laid the cross in the written way, and bowed in the learned way: he bowed low on all four sides, and to the prince and princess in person . Kindly Prince Vladimir met the guest and asked:

“You are a burly, burly good fellow, whose clans, from what cities?” And how to call you by name, to call you according to your homeland?

- I am from the glorious city of Ryazan, the son of Nikita Romanovich and Afimya Alexandrovna - Dobrynya, the son of Nikitich. I came to you, prince, to the military service.

And at that time, Prince Vladimir's tables were pulled apart, the princes, boyars and mighty Russian heroes were feasting. Vladimir, Prince Dobrynya Nikitich, sat at the table in a place of honor between Ilya Muromets and Alyosha Popovich, brought him a glass of green wine, not a small glass of wine - one and a half buckets. Dobrynya took chara with one hand, drank chara for a single spirit.

And Prince Vladimir, meanwhile, walked around the dining room, proverbially the sovereign pronounces:

- Oh, you goy, mighty Russian heroes, I do not live in joy today, in sorrow. Lost my beloved niece, young Zabava Putyatichna. She walked with her mothers, with the nannies in the green garden, and at that time the Zmeinishche-Gorynishche flew over Kiev, he grabbed Zabava Putyatichna, soared above the standing forest and carried it to the Sorochinsky mountains, into deep snake caves. If only one of you, children, would be found: you, the princes of your knees, you, the boyars of your neighbor, and you, the mighty Russian heroes, who would go to the Sorochinsky mountains, rescued from the full of snakes, rescued the beautiful Zabavushka Putyatichna, and thereby consoled me and Princess Apraksia!

All the princes and boyars are silent in silence. The larger one is buried for the middle one, the middle one for the smaller one, and there is no answer from the smaller one. This is where Dobrynya Nikitich came to mind: “But the Serpent violated the commandment: don’t fly to Russia, don’t take people in full, if you took it away, captivated Zabava Putyatichna.” He left the table, bowed to Prince Vladimir and said these words:

- Sunny Vladimir, Prince of Stolno-Kiev, you throw this service on me. After all, the Serpent Gorynych recognized me as a brother and swore not to fly to the Russian land for a century and not to take it in full, but he violated that oath-commandment. I have to go to the Sorochinsky mountains, to rescue Zabava Putyatichna.

The prince brightened his face and said:

- You consoled us, good fellow!

And Dobrynya bowed low on all four sides, and to the prince and princess in person, then he went out into the wide courtyard, mounted his horse and rode to Ryazan-city.

There, he asked his mother for blessings to go to the Sorochinsky mountains, to rescue Russian captives from the full of snakes.

Mother Afimya Alexandrovna said:

- Go, dear child, and my blessing will be with you!

Then she gave a whip of seven silks, gave an embroidered white-linen shawl and spoke to her son these words:

- When you fight with the Serpent, your right hand will get tired, it will grow mad, the white light in your eyes will be lost, you wipe yourself with a handkerchief and dry your horse. It will remove all your fatigue as if by hand, and the strength of you and the horse will triple, and wave a seven-silk whip over the Serpent - he will bow to the damp earth. Here you tear-cut all the snake's trunks - all the snake's strength will be depleted.

Dobrynya bowed low to his mother, the honest widow Afimya Alexandrovna, then mounted a good horse and rode to the Sorochinsky mountains.

And the filthy Serpent-Gorynishche smelled Dobrynya halfway across, flew in, began to shoot with fire and fight and fight.

They fight for an hour or so. The greyhound horse was exhausted, began to stumble, and Dobrynya's right hand waved, the light faded in his eyes.

Here the hero remembered his mother's order. He himself wiped himself with an embroidered white-linen handkerchief and wiped his horse. His faithful horse began to jump three times faster than before. And Dobrynya lost all his fatigue, his strength tripled. He seized the time, waved a seven-silk whip over the Serpent, and the Serpent's strength was exhausted: he crouched down to the damp earth.

Dobrynya tore-chopped the snake trunks, and in the end he cut off all the heads of the filthy monster, chopped them with a sword, trampled all the snakes with his horse and went into the deep holes of the snake, cut and broke the strong constipation, let out a lot of people from the crowd, let everyone go free.

He brought Zabava Putyatichna into the world, put him on a horse and brought him to the capital city of Kiev. He brought him to the princely chambers, there he bowed in a written way: on all four sides, and to the prince and princess in person, he started a speech in a learned way:

- By your command, prince, I went to the Sorochinskiye mountains, ruined and fought the snake's lair. He killed the Snake-Gorynishch himself and all the little serpents, set the dark people free and rescued your beloved niece, the young Zabava Putyatichna.

Prince Vladimir was glad, happy, he hugged Dobrynya Nikitich tightly, kissed him on the sugar lips, seated him in a place of honor, he himself spoke these words:

- For your great service, I favor you with a city with suburbs!

To celebrate, the prince of honors started feasting on all the boyar princes, on all mighty glorified heroes.

And everyone at that feast got drunk, ate, glorified the heroism and prowess of the hero Dobrynya Nikitich.

Alyosha Popovich Jr.

In the glorious city of Rostov, at the cathedral priest of Father Levonty, a single child grew up to comfort and delight his parents - the beloved son Alyoshenka.

The guy grew up, matured not by the day, but by the hour, as if the dough on the dough was rising, poured with strength-fortress. He began to run outside, play games with the guys. In all childish fun-pranks, he was the ringleader-ataman: brave, cheerful, desperate - a violent, daring little head!

Sometimes the neighbors complained:

“I won’t keep you in pranks, I don’t know!” Take it easy, take care of your son!

And the parents of the soul doted on their son and in response they said this:

“You can’t do anything with daring-strictness, but when he grows up, he matures, and all pranks and pranks will be removed as if by hand!”

This is how Alyosha Popovich Jr. grew up. And he got older. He rode a fast horse, and learned to wield a sword. And then he came to the parent, bowed at the feet of his father and began to ask for forgiveness-blessing:

- Bless me, parent-father, to go to the capital city of Kiev, to serve Prince Vladimir, to stand at the outposts of the heroic, to defend our land from enemies.

“My mother and I did not expect that you would leave us, that there would be no one to rest our old age, but it is apparently written in the family: you work in military affairs. That is a good deed, and we bless you for good deeds!

Then Alyosha went to the wide yard, went into the standing stable, led out the heroic horse and began to saddle the horse.

First, he put on sweatshirts, put felts on the sweatshirts, and on the felts a Cherkasy saddle, tightened the silk girths tightly, fastened the gold buckles, and the buckles had damask studs. Everything is not for the sake of beauty-bass, but for the sake of the heroic fortress: after all, silk does not rub, damask steel does not bend, red gold does not rust, the hero sits on a horse, does not age.

He put on chainmail armor, fastened pearl buttons. In addition, he put on a damask breastplate on himself, took all the armor of the heroic. In the cuff, a tight bow, bursting, and twelve red-hot arrows, he took both a heroic club and a long-sized spear, girded himself with a treasure-sword, and did not forget to take a sharp knife-dagger. The boy shouted in a shrill voice:

“Keep up, Evdoki fly, follow me right behind me!”

And they only saw the daring of the good fellow, how he sat on a horse, but did not see how he rolled away from the yard. Only a dusty smoke rose.

How long, how short, the journey continued, how much, how little time the road lasted, and Alyosha Popovich arrived with his steamer Yevdokimushka in the capital city of Kiev. They stopped by not by the road, not by the gates, but galloped through the city walls, past the coal tower to the wide princely courtyard. Here Alyosha jumped off the horse’s goods, he entered the princes’ chambers, laid the cross in the written way, and bowed in the learned way: he bowed low to all four sides, and to Prince Vladimir and Princess Apraksin in person.

At that time, Prince Vladimir had a feast in honor, and he ordered his faithful servants to seat Alyosha at the stove post.

Alyosha Popovich and Tugarin

There were no glorious Russian heroes at that time in Kiev.

The princes have gathered for the feast, the princes have come together with the boyars, and everyone is sitting gloomily, their riotous heads have hung, their eyes have sunk into the oak floor ...

At that time, at that time, with a noise, a roar of the door on the heel, Tugarin the dog was swinging and entering the dining room.

The growth of Tugarin is terrible, his head is like a beer cauldron, his eyes are like bowls, in his shoulders there is an oblique fathom. Tugarin did not pray to images, he did not greet the princes, the boyars. And Prince Vladimir and Apraksia bowed low to him, took him by the arms, put him at the table in a large corner, on an oak bench, gilded, covered with an expensive fluffy carpet. Russell-sprawled in a place of honor Tugarin, sits, grins with his whole wide mouth, mocks at the princes, boyars, scoffs at Prince Vladimir. Endovami drinks green wine, washed down with standing mead.

They brought swan geese and gray ducks baked, boiled, fried to the tables. Tugarin put a loaf of bread on his cheek, swallowed a white swan at once ...

Alyosha looked from behind the baking post at Tugarin the impudent man, and said:

- My parent had a gluttonous cow: he drank swill from a whole tub until it burst!

Those speeches did not come to Tugarin in love, they seemed offensive. He threw a sharp knife-dagger at Alyosha. But Alyosha - he was evasive - on the fly grabbed a sharp knife-dagger with his hand, and he himself sits unharmed. And he spoke these words:

- We will go, Tugarin, with you in the open field and try the strength of the heroic.

And so they sat on good horses and rode into an open field, into a wide expanse. They fought there, fought until the evening, the sun was red until sunset, no one was hurt. Tugarin had a horse on wings of fire. Soared, Tugarin rose under the shells on a winged horse, and he manages to seize the time to hit Alyosha with a gyrfalcon from above and fall. Alyosha began to ask, to say:

- Rise, roll, dark cloud! You spill, cloud, with frequent rain, flood, extinguish Tugarin's horse's wings of fire!

And, out of nowhere, caused a dark cloud. A cloud poured down with frequent rain, flooded and extinguished the fiery wings, and Tugarin descended on a horse from the skies to the damp earth.

Here Alyoshenka Popovich, Jr., shouted in his stentorian voice, as if playing a trumpet:

“Look back, bastard!” After all, Russian mighty heroes are standing there. They came to help me!

Tugarin looked around, and at that time, at that time, Alyoshenka jumped up to him - he was quick-witted and dexterous - waved his heroic sword and cut off Tugarin's head with a buoy.

On that duel with Tugarin ended.

Fight with the Basurman army near Kiev

Alyosha turned the prophetic horse and went to Kiev-grad. He catches up, he catches up with a small squad - Russian vershniki1. Friends ask:

“Where are you heading, burly good fellow, and what is your name, called by your fatherland?”

The hero answers the combatants:

— I am Alyosha Popovich. He fought and fought in the open field with the praiser2 Tugarin, cut off his violent head, and now I’m going to the capital city of Kiev.

Alyosha rides with combatants, and they see: near the city of Kiev, the Basurman army stands. Surrounded, overlaid with city walls from all four sides.

And so much power of that unfaithful one has been caught up that from the cry of the infidel, from the neighing of the horse and from the creak from the cart, there is a noise, as if a basurman rider-bogatyr is driving around the open field with thunder, yelling in a loud voice, boasting:

“We will wipe Kiev-city from the face of the earth, we will burn all the houses and God’s churches with fire, we will roll the brand, we will cut down all the townspeople, we will take the boyars and Prince Vladimir in full and force us to walk in the horde in shepherds, milk the mares!

As Alyosha's companions saw the innumerable strength of the Basurmans, they heard the boastful speeches of the riders-praisers, restrained their zealous horses, became gloomy, hesitated. And Alyosha Popovich was hot-assertive. Where it is impossible to take by force, he swooped down there. He shouted in a loud voice:

- You are a goy-thou, good squad! Two deaths cannot happen, but one cannot be avoided. It’s better for us to lay down our heads in battle than for the glorious capital city of Kiev to experience shame! We will attack an uncountable army, we will free the great Kiev city from misfortune, and our merit will not be forgotten, it will pass, a loud glory will sweep about us: the old Cossack Ilya Muromets, son of Ivanovich, will hear about us. For our bravery, he will bow to us - whether not honor, not glory to us!

Alyosha Popovich, Jr., with his brave retinue, attacked countless enemy hordes. They beat the infidels like they mow grass: sometimes with a sword, sometimes with a spear, sometimes with a heavy battle club. Alyosha Popovich took out the most important hero-praiser with a sharp sword and cut it - broke it in two. Then horror-fear attacked the enemies. The opponents could not resist, fled wherever their eyes looked. And the road to the capital city of Kiev was cleared.

Prince Vladimir found out about the victory and, with joy, started a feast, but did not invite Alyosha Popovich to the feast. Alyosha was offended by Prince Vladimir, turned his faithful horse and went to Rostov-grad, to his parent.

Alyosha, Ilya and Dobrynya

Alyosha is staying with his parent, at the cathedral priest Levonty of Rostov, and at that time the glory-rumor rolls like a river overflows in a flood. They know in Kiev and Chernigov, there is a rumor in Lithuania, they say in the Horde that they are blowing a trumpet in Novgorod, how Alyosha Popovich, Jr. ...

Glory flew to the heroic outpost. The old Cossack Ilya Muromets also heard about this and said this:

- You can see the falcon in flight, and the good fellow - on the trip. Today Alyosha Popovich Jr. was born among us, and the heroes in Russia will not be transferred forever and ever!

Here Ilya got on a good horse, on his shaggy bouffant, and rode along the straight road to the capital city of Kiev.

At the princely court, the hero dismounted from his horse, he himself entered the white-stone chambers. Here he bowed in a learned way: on all four sides he bowed from the waist, and to the prince and princess in person:

“Hello, Prince Vladimir, for many years with your princess and Apraksia!” Congratulations on great victory. Although there were no heroes in Kiev at that time, but the innumerable Basurman army-force was defeated, fought, the capital city was rescued from misfortune, adversity, paved the way to Kiev and cleansed Russia of enemies. And that is the whole merit of Alyosha Popovich - he was young for years, but he took it with courage and dexterity. And you, Prince Vladimir, did not notice, did not honor him, did not invite the princes to your chambers and thereby offended not only Alyosha Popovich, but all Russian heroes. You listen to me, the old one: start a feast - honor the feast for all the glorious mighty Russian heroes, invite the young Alyosha Popovich to the feast, and in front of all of us give honor to the good fellow for services to Kiev, so that he will not be offended by you and would continue to carry military service.

Prince Vladimir Krasno Solnyshko answers:

“I will start a feast, and I will invite Alyosha to the feast, and I will honor him. Who will be sent as ambassadors, invited to the feast? Unless you send us Dobrynya Nikitich. He has been an ambassador and served in the embassy, ​​he is learned and courteous, he knows how to behave, he knows what and how to say.

Dobrynya came to Rostov-city. He bowed low to Alyosha Popovich, he himself said these words:

“Let’s go, daring good fellow, to the capital city of Kiev, to the affectionate Prince Vladimir, eat bread and salt, drink beer with honey, there the prince will welcome you.”

Alyosha Popovich Jr. answers:

- I was recently in Kiev, they didn’t invite me to visit, they didn’t treat me, and there’s no need for me to go there again.

Dobrynya bowed low in the second bow:

“Do not hold grudges-wormholes in yourself, but sit on a horse, and let’s go to a feast of honors, where Prince Vladimir will honor you, reward you with expensive gifts. The glorious Russian heroes also bowed to you and called you to the feast: the old Cossack Ilya Muromets called you first, and Vasily Kazimirovich called you, called Danube Ivanovich, called Potanyushka Lame and I, Dobrynya, call you honor by honor. Do not be angry with the prince at Vladimir, but let's go to a cheerful conversation, to a feast of honors.

“If Prince Vladimir had called, I wouldn’t have stood up and wouldn’t have gone, but as Ilya Muromets himself and the glorious mighty heroes are calling, then it’s an honor for me,” said Alyosha Popovich, Jr., and sat on a good horse with his good squad, they went to the capital city of Kiev. They stopped by not by the road, not by the gates, but the policemen galloped through the walls to the one to the prince's court. In the middle of the courtyard they jumped off zealous horses.

The old Cossack Ilya Muromets with Prince Vladimir and Princess Apraksia went out onto the red porch, met the guest with honor and honor, led them under the arms to the dining room, to a large place, they put Alyosha Popovich in a red corner, next to Ilya Muromets and Dobrynya Nikitich.

And Prince Vladimir walks around the ward in the dining room and orders:

- Youths, faithful servants, pour a cup of green wine and dilute it with standing honey, not a small bowl - a bucket and a half, bring a cup to Alyosha Popovich, bring a cup to Ilya Muromets to a friend, and serve Dobrynushka Nikitich a third cup.

The heroes rose on frisky legs, drank spells for a single spirit and fraternized among themselves: they called the elder brother Ilya Muromets, the middle brother Dobrynya Nikitich, and the younger brother they named Alyosha Popovich. They hugged three times and kissed three times.

Here Prince Vladimir and Princess Apraksia began to honor Alyoshenka, to favor: they unsubscribed, granted a city with suburbs, awarded a large village with suburbs.

- Hold the gold treasury as needed, we give you precious clothes!

Young Alyosha got up, got up on his feet and exclaimed:

- I was not the only one who fought the Basurman army - an innumerable force. Vigilantes fought and fought with me. Here they are rewarded and favored, but I don’t need a city with suburbs, I don’t need a large village with suburbs and I don’t need precious clothes. Thank you for the bread and salt and for the honors. And you, Prince Vladimir of Stolno-Kiev, let me, with the cross brothers Ilya Muromets and Dobrynya Nikitich, walk without duty, have fun in Kiev, so that the ringing-ringing can be heard in Rostov and Chernigov, and then we will go to the heroic outpost to stand , we will defend the Russian land from enemies!

Russian epics are a storehouse of folk heroic tales about heroes. These works are able to seriously interest the child in the history of the Russian people.

Read Russian epics about heroes

What are epics

Bylina in Russian folklore is a genre that tells about the heroic deeds of heroes who defended their homeland-Russia from various villains and misfortunes. An interesting feature of folk song legends is that historical truth and fantastic fiction are fascinatingly intertwined in them: the fabulous monster Zmey-Gorynych meets the real-life Vladimir the Red Sun, descriptions of life, weapons, traditions of ancient eras coexist with magical transformations. Children are interested in reading epics, as this is a great way to feel the atmosphere of the heroic past. ancient Russia, touch the roots, but do not get bored like over a textbook.

From an artistic point of view, epics are distinguished by high poetry, richness in the use of folklore metaphors, epithets, hyperbole, and personifications. A special rhythm fascinates the reader, captures him in an endless circle of words, so even a young reader can easily "swallow" a large work.

Children should definitely be offered to read epics, since folk tales bring up love for their native land and interest in its history. They say that good always triumphs over the greatest evil, and that honor, courage and heroism, even in Everyday life must tirelessly resist meanness, greed and cruelty.

Heroes of epics

The main characters of Russian folk epics are, of course, heroes of various stripes. Mighty and wise, kind and stern, they are all distinguished by lofty patriotism, readiness to come to the aid of their homeland whenever needed. There are even female heroines among them, brave Poles, capable of both making a worthy couple for men and becoming an invincible opponent. An important unifying image is Prince Vladimir the Red Sun. His figure symbolizes the wisdom of a statesman who is able to rule the country, guide it along the path of prosperity. Heroes cannot do without villains, and there are also enough of them in epics: the heroes are opposed by the greedy Tugarin, the cruel Nightingale the Robber, enemy troops from different parts, even the fantastic dragon - Serpent Gorynych.

Senior and junior heroes

Russian epics are a complex epic system where historical and mythological motifs are intertwined, characters wander from work to work, and the plots themselves are divided into versions that existed in different periods and in different regions. But there is an important core that holds together all this impressive discord: the division of heroes into older and younger ones. Both groups are quite extensive, but the most famous heroes There are three Russ in each of them.

• Mikula Selyanovich (Selyaninovich) is the most powerful hero. A peasant by birth, he takes from native land its power, so its supply is truly inexhaustible.
• Svyatogor is a senior giant hero who rarely descends from his native mountain ranges.
• Volga Svyatoslavovich is a unique hero-sorcerer, able to defeat enemies without the help of weapons and physical strength. His main skill - to turn into different animals - helps to defeat any opponent.

About the younger heroes, who are the heroes of the Kiev cycle of legends, at least once heard even those who have not yet read Russian epics.

• Ilya Muromets - having slept on the stove for thirty years and three years, this hero bravely defended the borders of Russia and accomplished many feats both alone and shoulder to shoulder with faithful comrades.
• Dobrynya Nikitich is wise and reasonable, the most restrained of the three heroes. He is sometimes distinguished by a certain softness of character, which balances the harsh temper of the great Muromets.
• Alyosha Popovich - known not so much for strength as for ingenuity, cunning, the ability to calculate events in advance. It was thanks to these qualities that not the most physically strong hero defeated many enemies.