Oh, tasteless round of petty, worn pursuits!
Oh, wearisome monotony of life!
Are they a guerdon for high hopes, high aims?
Or love or greatness I must have: all else
Are unto me alike indifferent.
Smooth off the trouble from thy brow, dear father!
Let's trust the stream that bears us on its breast,
Think not upon the sacrifice thou makest,
Think on the prize, the goal that's to be won--
When thou shalt see thy daughter robed in state,
In regal state, aloft on Moscow's throne,
And thy son's sons the rulers of the world!

MEISCHEK.
I think of naught, see naught, but thee, my child,
Girt with the splendors of the imperial crown.
Thou'rt bent to have it; I cannot gainsay thee.

MARINA.
Yet one request, my dearest, best of fathers,
I pray you grant me!

MEISCHEK.
Name thy wish, my child.

MARINA.
Shall I remain shut up at Sambor with
The fires of boundless longing in my breast?
Beyond the Dnieper will my die be cast,
While boundless space divides me from the spot;
Can I endure it? Oh, the impatient spirit
Will lie upon the rack of expectation
And measure out this monstrous length of space
With groans and anxious throbbings of the heart.

MEISCHEK.
What dost thou wish? What is it thou wouldst have?

MARINA.
Let me abide the issue in Kioff!
There I can gather tidings at their source.
There on the frontier of both kingdoms----

MEISCHEK.
Thy spirit's over-bold. Restrain it, child!

MARINA.
Yes, thou dost yield,--thou'lt take me with thee, then?

MEISCHEK.
Thou rulest me. Must I not do thy will?

MARINA.
My own dear father, when I am Moscow's queen
Kioff, you know, must be our boundary.
Kioff must then be mine, and thou shalt rule it.

MEISCHEK.
Thou dreamest, girl! Already the great Moscow
Is for thy soul too narrow; thou, to grasp
Domains, wilt strip them from thy native land.

MARINA.
Kioff belonged not to our native land;
There the Varegers ruled in days of yore.
I have the ancient chronicles by heart;
'Twas from the Russian empire wrenched by force.
I will restore it to its former crown.

MEISCHEK.
Hush, hush! The Waywode must not hear such talk.

[Trumpet without. They're breaking up.

ACT II.

SCENE I.

A Greek convent in a bleak district near the sea Belozero.
A train