(excerpt from A.S. Pushkin's poem "Poltava")

Fragment of the Lomonosov mosaic.

".. The east is burning with a new dawn.

Already on the plain, over the hills

Cannons roar. Smoke crimson

Rising in circles to the sky

Against the morning rays.

The regiments closed their ranks.

Arrows scattered in the bushes.

Cannonballs roll, bullets whistle;

Cold bayonets hung.

Sons of beloved victory,

Through the fire of the trenches, the Swedes are torn;

Agitated, the cavalry flies;

The infantry follows her

And with its heavy firmness

Her desire strengthens.

And the battlefield is fatal

Thundering, burning here and there,

But obviously fighting happiness

Serve already begins to us.

repulsed squads,

Interfering, they fall to dust.

Rosen leaves through the gorges;

Surrenders to the ardent Schlipenbach.

We are pushing the Swedes army after army;

The glory of their banners darkens,

And god fight with grace

Our every step is captured.

Then something over inspired

Peter's sonorous voice rang out:

"For business, with God!" From the tent

Surrounded by a crowd of favorites,

Peter comes out. His eyes

Shine. His face is terrible.

The movements are fast. He is beautiful,

He's all like God's thunderstorm.

Goes. They bring him a horse.

Zealous and humble faithful horse.

Feeling the fatal fire

Trembling. Eyes askance

And rushes in the dust of battle,

Proud of the mighty rider.

It's close to noon. The fire is burning.

Like a plowman, the battle rests.

In some places the Cossacks are prancing.

Leveling shelves are being built.

Fighting music is silent.

On the hills of the gun, subdued

Stopped their hungry roar.

And behold - announcing the plain

Hurrah rang out in the distance:

The regiments saw Peter.

And he rushed in front of the shelves,

Powerful and joyful, like a fight.

He devoured the field with his eyes.

A crowd followed him

These chicks of Petrov's nest -

In the changes of the lot of the earth,

In the writings of statehood and war

His comrades, sons:

And noble Sheremetev,

And Bruce, and Bour, and Repnin,

And, happiness minion rootless,

Semi-ruler.

And in front of the blue rows

Their militant squads,

Carried by faithful servants,

In a rocking chair, pale, motionless,

Suffering from a wound, Karl appeared.

The leaders of the hero followed him.

He quietly sank into thought.

Confused look depicted

Unusual excitement.

It seemed that Karla was bringing

The desired battle in perplexity ...

Suddenly with a weak wave of the hand

He moved regiments against the Russians.

And with them the royal squads

Converged in the smoke among the plains:

And the battle broke out, the Poltava battle!

In the fire, under the red-hot hail,

Reflected by a living wall,

Above the fallen system fresh system

The bayonets close. heavy cloud

Squads of flying cavalry,

Reins, sabers sounding,

Knocking down, cut from the shoulder.

Throwing piles of bodies on a pile,

Cast iron balls everywhere

Between them they jump, smash,

They dig the ashes and hiss in the blood.

Swede, Russian - stabs, cuts, cuts.

Drum beat, clicks, rattle,

The thunder of cannons, the clatter, the neighing, the groan,

And death and hell on all sides.

In the midst of fear and anxiety

To the battle with the gaze of inspiration

The calm leaders look

Military movements are watching

Foresee death and victory

And they talk in silence.

But near the Moscow Tsar

Who is this warrior under gray hair?

Two supported by the Cossacks,

With heartfelt jealousy,

He's an experienced hero's eye

Looks at the excitement of the battle.

He will not jump on a horse,

Wither, an orphan in exile,

And the Cossacks call Paley

Do not fly from all sides!

But why did his eyes sparkle,

And with anger, as if in the darkness of the night,

Is the old forehead covered?

What could anger him?

Or he, through the swearing smoke, saw

Enemy Mazepa, and at this moment

I hated my summers

Disarmed old man?

Mazepa, immersed in thought,

Looked at the battle, surrounded

A crowd of rebellious Cossacks,

Relatives, foremen and Serdyukov.

Suddenly a shot. The old man turned.

In Voinarovsky's hands

The musket barrel was still smoking.

Struck in a few steps

The young Cossack was lying in blood,

And the horse, covered in foam and dust,

Feeling the will, wildly rushed,

Hiding in the fiery distance.

The Cossack strove for the hetman

Through the battle with a saber in hand

With insane fury in his eyes.

The old man drove up and turned

To him with a question. But the Cossack

Already died. Extinct ghost

He also threatened the enemy of Russia;

The dead face was gloomy,

And the tender name of Mary

A little more tongue babbled.

But the moment of victory is near, near.

Hooray! we break; bend the Swedes.

O glorious hour! oh glorious sight!

More pressure - and the enemy runs.

And then the cavalry set off,

Swords are blunted by murder,

And the whole steppe was covered with the fallen,

Like a swarm of black locusts.

Peter is feasting. And proud and clear

And his eyes are full of glory.

And his royal feast is beautiful.

At the cries of his troops,

In his tent he treats

Their leaders, the leaders of others,

And caresses the glorious captives,

And for their teachers

Raises the health cup.

The east is burning like a new dawn.

Already on the plain, over the hills

Cannons roar. Smoke crimson

Rising in circles to the sky

Against the morning rays.

The regiments closed their ranks.

Arrows scattered in the bushes.

Cannonballs roll, bullets whistle;

Cold bayonets hung.

Sons of beloved victory,

Through the fire of the trenches, the Swedes are torn;

Agitated, the cavalry flies;

The infantry follows her

And with its heavy firmness

Her desire strengthens.

And the battlefield is fatal

Thundering, burning here and there;

But obviously fighting happiness

Serve already begins to us.

repulsed squads,

Interfering, they fall to dust.

Rosen leaves through the gorges;

Passionate Schlipenbach surrenders.

We are pushing the Swedes army after army;

The glory of their banners darkens,

And god fight with grace

Our every step is captured.

Then something over inspired

Peter's sonorous voice rang out:

"For the cause, with God!" From the tent

Surrounded by a crowd of favorites,

Peter comes out. His eyes Shine.

His face is terrible. The movements are fast.

He is beautiful,

He's all like God's thunderstorm.

Goes. They bring him a horse.

Zealous and humble faithful horse.

Sensing the fatal fire, Trembling.

Eyes askance

And rushes in the dust of battle,

Proud of the mighty rider.

It's close to noon. The fire is burning.

Like a plowman, the battle rests.

In some places the Cossacks are prancing.

Equalizing, shelves are being built.

Fighting music is silent.

On the hills of the gun, subdued,

Stopped their hungry roar.

And now, announcing the plain,

Hurrah rang out in the distance:

The regiments saw Peter.

And he rushed in front of the shelves,

Powerful and joyful, like a fight.

He devoured the field with his eyes.

A crowd followed him

These chicks of Petrov's nest -

In the changes of the lot of the earth,

In the writings of statehood and war

His comrades, sons:

And noble Sheremetev,

And Bruce, and Bour, and Repnin,

And, happiness minion rootless,

Semi-ruler.

And in front of the blue rows

Their militant squads,

Carried by faithful servants,

In a rocking chair, pale, motionless,

Suffering from a wound, Karl appeared.

The leaders of the hero followed him.

He quietly sank into thought.

Confused look depicted

Unusual excitement.

It seemed that Karla was bringing

The desired battle in perplexity ...

Suddenly with a weak wave of the hand

He moved regiments against the Russians.

And with them the royal squads

Converged in the smoke among the plains:

And the battle broke out, the Poltava battle!

In the fire, under the red-hot hail,

Reflected by a living wall,

Above the fallen system fresh system

The bayonets close. heavy cloud

Squads of flying cavalry,

Reins, sabers sounding,

Knocking down, they are cut on the shoulder.

Throwing piles of bodies on a pile,

Cast iron balls everywhere

Between them they jump, smash,

They dig the ashes and hiss in the blood.

Swede, Russian - stabs, cuts, cuts.

Drum beat, clicks, rattle,

The thunder of cannons, the clatter, the neighing, the groan,

And death and hell on all sides.

But the moment of victory is near, near.

Hooray! we break; bend the Swedes.

O glorious hour! oh glorious sight!

More pressure - and the enemy runs:

And then the cavalry set off,

Swords are blunted by murder,

And the whole steppe was covered with the fallen,

Like a swarm of black locusts.

Peter is feasting. And proud and clear

And his eyes are full of glory.

And his royal feast is beautiful.

At the cries of his troops,

In his tent he treats

Leaders of your own, leaders of others,

And caresses the glorious captives,

And for their teachers

Raises the health cup.

".. The east is burning with a new dawn.

Already on the plain, over the hills

Cannons roar. Smoke crimson

Rising in circles to the sky

Against the morning rays.

Cannonballs roll, bullets whistle;

Cold bayonets hung.

Sons of beloved victory,

Through the fire of the trenches, the Swedes are torn;

Agitated, the cavalry flies;

The infantry follows her

And with its heavy firmness

Her desire strengthens.

And the battlefield is fatal

Thundering, burning here and there,

But obviously fighting happiness

Serve already begins to us.

repulsed squads,

Interfering, they fall to dust.

We are pushing the Swedes army after army;

The glory of their banners darkens,

And god fight with grace

Our every step is captured.

Then something over inspired

Peter's sonorous voice rang out:

"For business, with God!" From the tent

Surrounded by a crowd of favorites,

And, happiness minion rootless,

And before blue rows

Their militant squads,

Carried by faithful servants,

In a rocking chair, pale, motionless,

The leaders of the hero followed him.

He quietly sank into thought.

Confused look depicted

Unusual excitement.

It seemed that Karla was bringing

The desired battle in perplexity ...

Suddenly with a weak wave of the hand

He moved regiments against the Russians.

And with them the royal squads

Converged in the smoke among the plains:

And the battle broke out, the Poltava battle!

In the fire, under the red-hot hail,

Reflected by a living wall,

Above the fallen system fresh system

The bayonets close. heavy cloud

Squads of flying cavalry,

Reins, sabers sounding,

Knocking down, cut from the shoulder.

Throwing piles of bodies on a pile,

Cast iron balls everywhere

Between them they jump, smash,

They dig the ashes and hiss in the blood.

Swede, Russian - stabs, cuts, cuts.

Drum beat, clicks, rattle,

The thunder of cannons, the clatter, the neighing, the groan,

And death and hell on all sides.

In the midst of fear and anxiety

To the battle with the gaze of inspiration

The calm leaders look

Military movements are watching

Foresee death and victory

And they talk in silence.

But near the Moscow Tsar

Who is this warrior under gray hair?

Two supported by the Cossacks,

With heartfelt jealousy,

He's an experienced hero's eye

Looks at the excitement of the battle.

He will not jump on a horse,

Wither, an orphan in exile,

Do not fly from all sides!

But why did his eyes sparkle,

And with anger, as if in the darkness of the night,

Is the old forehead covered?

What could anger him?

Or he, through the swearing smoke, saw

The musket barrel was still smoking.

Struck in a few steps

The young Cossack was lying in blood,

And the horse, covered in foam and dust,

Feeling the will, wildly rushed,

Hiding in the fiery distance.

The Cossack strove for the hetman

Through the battle with a saber in hand

With insane fury in his eyes.

The old man drove up and turned

To him with a question. But the Cossack

Already died. Extinct ghost

He also threatened the enemy of Russia;

The dead face was gloomy,

And the tender name of Mary

A little more tongue babbled.

But the moment of victory is near, near.

Hooray! we break; bend the Swedes.

O glorious hour! oh glorious sight!

More pressure - and the enemy runs.

And then the cavalry set off,

Swords are blunted by murder,

And the whole steppe was covered with the fallen,

Like a swarm of black locusts.

Peter is feasting. And proud and clear

And his eyes are full of glory.

And his royal feast is beautiful.

At the cries of his troops,

In his tent he treats

Their leaders, the leaders of others,

And caresses the glorious captives,

And for their teachers

Raises the health cup.

But where is the first invited guest?

Where is the first, formidable our teacher,

Whose long-term anger

Humbled the Poltava winner?

And where is Mazepa? where is the villain?

Where did Judas flee in fear?

Why is the king not among the guests?

Why is the traitor not on the block?

On horseback, in the wilderness of the naked steppes,

The king and the hetman are both running.

They're running. Fate bound them.

Danger close and malice

Give strength to the king.

He is a heavy wound

Forgot. bowed his head,

He jumps, we drive Russians,

And faithful servants crowd

A little can follow him .. "

Poltava battle - the largest Northern war between Russian and Swedish troops. The Russian army was commanded by Tsar Peter 1, and the Swedish army was commanded by Charles 12. The battle began in the early morning of June 27, 1709, near the city of Poltava (Ukraine). The battle lasted almost the whole day, the picture of the battle changed several times, but in the end the Swedish army fled. In 1828, A. S. Pushkin wrote the poem "Poltava", a fragment of which we propose to read.

And he rushed in front of the shelves,
Powerful and joyful, like a fight.
He devoured the field with his eyes.
A crowd followed him
These chicks of Petrov's nest -
In the changes of the lot of the earth,
In the writings of statehood and war
His comrades, sons:

And noble Sheremetev,
And Bruce, and Bour, and Repnin,
And, happiness minion rootless,
Semi-ruler.

And in front of the blue rows
Their militant squads,
Carried by faithful servants,
In a rocking chair, pale, motionless,
Suffering from a wound, Karl appeared.
The leaders of the hero followed him.
He quietly sank into thought.
Confused look depicted
Unusual excitement.
It seemed that Karla was bringing
The desired battle in bewilderment ...
Suddenly with a weak wave of the hand
He moved regiments against the Russians.

And with them the royal squads
Converged in the smoke among the plains:
And the battle broke out, the Poltava battle!
In the fire, under the red-hot hail,
Reflected by a living wall,
Above the fallen system fresh system
The bayonets close. heavy cloud
Squads of flying cavalry,
Reins, sabers sounding,
Knocking down, cut from the shoulder.
Throwing piles of bodies on a pile,
Cast iron balls everywhere
Between them they jump, smash,
They dig the ashes and hiss in the blood.
Swede, Russian - stabs, cuts, cuts.
Drum beat, clicks, rattle,
The thunder of cannons, the clatter, the neighing, the groan,
And death and hell on all sides.

But the moment of victory is near, near.
Hooray! we break; bend the Swedes.
O glorious hour! oh glorious sight!
More pressure - and the enemy runs.
And then the cavalry set off,
Swords are blunted by murder,
And the whole steppe was covered with the fallen,
Like a swarm of black locusts.

Peter is feasting. And proud and clear
And his eyes are full of glory.
And his royal feast is beautiful.
At the cries of his troops,
In his tent he treats
Their leaders, the leaders of others,
And caresses the glorious captives,
And for their teachers
Raises the health cup.

Ukrainian night

Quiet Ukrainian night.
The sky is transparent. The stars are shining.
Overcome your slumber
Doesn't want air. A little tremble
Silver poplar leaves.
The moon is calm from above
Above the White Church shines
And lush hetman gardens
And the old castle illuminates.
And quiet, quiet all around;
But in the castle there is whispering and confusion.
In one of the towers, under the window,
In deep, heavy contemplation,
Chained, Kochubey sits
And gloomily looks at the sky.

The east is burning like a new dawn
Already on the plain, over the hills
Cannons roar. Smoke crimson
Rising in circles to the sky
Against the morning rays.
The regiments closed their ranks.
Arrows scattered in the bushes.
Cannonballs roll, bullets whistle;
Cold bayonets hung.
Sons of beloved victory,
Through the fire of the trenches, the Swedes are torn;
Agitated, the cavalry flies;
The infantry follows her
And with its heavy firmness
Her desire strengthens.
And the battlefield is fatal
Thundering, burning here and there,
But obviously fighting happiness
Serve already begins to us.

-
Battle of Poltava June 27, 1709 Engraving by N. Larnessen after the original by P.D. Martin Jr. Paris. 1725 GIM

repulsed squads,
Interfering, they fall to dust.
Rosen leaves through the gorges;
Surrenders to the ardent Schlipenbach.
We are pushing the Swedes army after army;
The glory of their banners darkens,
And god fight with grace
Our every step is captured.
Then something over inspired
Peter's sonorous voice rang out:

"For business, with God!" From the tent
Surrounded by a crowd of favorites,
Peter comes out. His eyes
Shine. His face is terrible.
The movements are fast. He is beautiful,
He's all like God's thunderstorm.
Goes. They bring him a horse.
Zealous and humble faithful horse.
Feeling the fatal fire
Trembling. Eyes askance
And rushes in the dust of battle,
Proud of the mighty rider.

-
A. Belli. Portrait of Peter I.
Copy from an original by Godfrey Neller. England 1698

-
Peter in the Battle of Poltava. Russian Museum

It's close to noon. The fire is burning.
Like a plowman, the battle rests.
In some places the Cossacks are prancing.
Leveling shelves are being built.
Fighting music is silent.
On the hills, the guns humbled
Stopped their hungry roar.
And behold - announcing the plain
Hurrah rang out in the distance:
The regiments saw Peter.
And he rushed in front of the shelves,
Powerful and joyful as a fight.
He devoured the field with his eyes.
A crowd followed him
These chicks of Petrov's nest -
In the changes of the lot of the earth
In the writings of statehood and war
His comrades, sons;
And noble Sheremetev,
And Bruce, and Bour, and Repnin,
And, happiness minion rootless
Semi-ruler.

And in front of the blue rows
Their militant squads,
Carried by faithful servants,
In a rocking chair, pale, motionless,
Suffering from a wound, Karl appeared.
The leaders of the hero followed him.
He quietly plunged into thought
Confused look depicted
Unusual excitement.
It seemed that Karla was bringing
The desired battle in perplexity ...
Suddenly with a weak wave of the hand
He moved regiments against the Russians.
And with them the royal squads
Converged in the smoke among the plains:

And the battle broke out, the Poltava battle!
In the fire, under the red-hot hail,
Reflected by a living wall,
Above the fallen system fresh system
The bayonets close. heavy cloud
Squads of flying cavalry,
Reins, sabers sounding,
Knocking down, cut from the shoulder.
Throwing piles of bodies on a pile,
Cast iron balls everywhere
Between them they jump, smash,
They dig the ashes and hiss in the blood.
Swede, Russian - stabs, cuts, cuts.
Drum beat, clicks, rattle,
The thunder of cannons, the clatter, the neighing, the groan,
And death and hell on all sides.

L. Caravak. "Peter I in the Battle of Poltava" (1718)

In the midst of fear and anxiety
To the battle with the gaze of inspiration
The calm leaders look
Military movements are watching
Foresee death and victory
And they talk in silence.
But near the Moscow Tsar
Who is this warrior under gray hair?
Two supported by the Cossacks,
With heartfelt jealousy,
He's an experienced hero's eye
Looks at the excitement of the battle.
He will not jump on a horse,
An orphan in exile,
And the Cossacks call Paley
Do not fly from all sides!
But why did his eyes sparkle,
And with anger, as if in the darkness of the night,
Is the old forehead covered?
What could anger him?
Or he, through the swearing smoke, saw
Enemy Mazepa, and at this moment
I hated my summers
Disarmed old man?

Mazepa, immersed in thought,
Watched the battle, surrounded
A crowd of rebellious Cossacks,
Relatives, foremen and Serdyukov.
Suddenly a shot. The elder turned
In Voinarovsky's hands
The musket barrel was still smoking.
Struck in a few steps
The young Cossack was lying in blood,
And the horse, covered in foam and dust,
Feeling the will, wildly rushed,
Hiding in the fiery distance.
The Cossack strove for the hetman
Through the battle with a saber in hand
With insane fury in his eyes.
The old man drove up and turned
To him with a question. But the Cossack
Already died. Extinct ghost
He also threatened the enemy of Russia;
The dead face was gloomy,
And the tender name of Mary
A little more tongue babbled.

But the moment of victory is near, near.
Hooray! we break; bend the Swedes.
O glorious hour! oh glorious sight!
More pressure - and the enemy runs.
And then the cavalry set off,
Swords are blunted by murder,
And the whole steppe was covered with the fallen
Like a swarm of black locusts.

Peter is feasting. And proud and clear
And his eyes are full of glory.
And his royal feast is beautiful.
At the cries of his troops,
In his tent he treats
Their leaders, the leaders of others,
And caresses the glorious captives,
And for their teachers
Raises the health cup.

A. E. Kotzebue. "Poltava victory".

But where is the first invited guest?
Where is the first, formidable our teacher,
Whose long-term anger
Humbled the Poltava winner?
And where is Mazepa? where is the villain?
Where did Judas flee in fear?
Why is the king not among the guests?
Why is the traitor not on the block?

On horseback, in the wilderness of the naked steppes,
The king and the hetman are both running.
They're running. Fate bound them.
Danger close and malice
Give strength to the king.
He is a heavy wound
Forgot. bowed his head,
He jumps, we drive Russians,
And faithful servants crowd
A little can follow him.

Charles XII and Hetman Mazepa after the Battle of Poltava