e unfurled to the breeze.
Now, we see Ysiaslaf a fugitive, hopeless, in despair. Again, the
rolling wheel of fortune raises him from his depression, and, with the
strides of a conqueror, he pursues his foe, in his turn vanquished and
woe-stricken. But

"The pomp of heraldry, the pride of power,
And all that beauty, all that wealth e'er gave,
Alike await the inevitable hour;
The paths of glory lead but to the grave."

Death, which Ysiaslaf had braved in a hundred battles, approached him
by the slow but resistless march of disease. For a few days the
monarch tossed in fevered restlessness on his bed at Kief, and then,
from his life of incessant storms on earth, his spirit ascended to the
God who gave it. Georges was, at that time, in the lowest state of
humiliation. His armies had all perished, and he was wandering in
exile, seeking new forces with which to renew the strife.

Rostislaf, grand prince of Novgorod, succeeded to the throne. But
Georges, animated by the death of Ysiaslaf, soon found enthusiastic
adventurers rallying around his banners. He marched vigorously to
Kief, drove Rostislaf from the capital and seized the scepter. But
there was no lull in the tempest of human ambition. Georges had
attained the throne by the energies of his sword, and, acting upon the
principle that "to the victors belong the spoils," he had driven from
their castles all the lords who had been supporters of the past
administration. He had conferred their mansions and their territories
upon his followers. Human nature has not materially changed. Those in
office were fighting to retain their honors and emoluments. Those out
of office were struggling to attain the posts which brought wealth and
renown. The progress of civilization has, in our country, transferred
this fierce battle from the field to the ballot-box. It is, indeed, a
glorious change. The battle can be fought thus just as effectually,
and infinitely more humanely. It has required the misery of nearly six
thousand years to teach, even a few millions of mankind, that the
ballot-box is a better instrument for political conflicts than the
cartridge-box.

Armies were gathering in all directions to march upon Georges. He was
now an old man, weary of war, and endeavored to bribe his foes to
peace. He was, however, unsuccessful, and found it to be necessary
again to lead his armies into the field. It was the 20th of March,
1157, when Georges, entering Kief