by virtue of its originality,
its historical truth, its vividness, it holds a unique place in the
literary history of Europe, and offers an interesting contrast to the
_Chanson de Roland_.

_The Story of the Raid of Igor_ tells of an expedition made in the
year 1185 against the Polovtsy, a tribe of nomads, by Igor the son of
Sviatoslav, Prince of Novgorod, together with other Princes. The story
tells how the Princes set out and raid the enemy's country; how,
successful at first, they are attacked by overwhelming numbers and
defeated; how Igor is taken prisoner; and how in the end he escapes
and returns home. The story is written in rhythmical prose, with
passages where the rhythm has a more strongly accentuated quality as
of unrhymed verse. All the incidents recorded in the epic agree in
every respect with the narrative of the same events which is to be
found in the _Chronicle of Kiev_. It is only the manner of presenting
them which is different. What gives the epic a unique interest is that
the author must indubitably have belonged to the militia of
Sviatoslav, Grand Duke of Kiev; and, if he was not an eye-witness of
the events he describes with such wealth of detail, his knowledge was
at any rate first-hand and intimate.

But the epic is as remarkable for the quality of its style as it is
for the historical interest of its subject-matter. It plunges, after a
short introduction, _in medias res_, and the narrative is concentrated
on the dramatic moments which give rise to the expression of lyrical
feeling, pathos and description--such as the battle, the defeat, the
ominous dream of the Grand Duke, and the lament of the wife of Igor on
the walls of Putivl--

"I will fly"--she says--
"Like the cuckoo down the Don;
I will wet my beaver sleeve
In the river Kayala;
I will wash the bleeding wounds of the Prince,
The wounds of his strong body."

* * * * *

"O Wind, little wind,
Why, Sir,
Why do you blow so fiercely?
Why, on your light wings
Do you blow the arrows of the robbers against my husband's warriors?
Is it not enough for you to blow high beneath the clouds,
To rock the ships on the blue sea?
Why, Sir, have you scattered my joy on the grassy plain?"

Throughout the poem, Nature plays an active part in the events. When
Igor is defeated, the grasses bend with pity and the trees are bowed
to the earth with grief. When Igor escapes,