Upon the bare and barren lea, And thirty handsome armored heroes File from the waters’ shining mirrors, With them the Usher from the Sea.
There glimpse a prince, and in his passing He makes the dreaded tsar his slave; Aloft, before the people massing, Across the wood, across the wave, A warlock bears a warrior brave;
[A grieving princess in a cell, And faithful wolf that serves her well];
See Baba Yaga’s mortar glide All of itself, with her astride. There droops Kashchey, on treasure bent; There’s Russian spirit… Russia’s scent!