Epics about Svyatogora are short. Svyatogor: a hero of enormous growth and incredible strength

Svyatogor read online

The Holy Mountains are high in Rus', their gorges are deep, the abysses are terrible.
Neither birch, nor oak, nor pine, nor green grass grow there.
There, the wolf will not run, the eagle will not fly - the ant and that have nothing to profit from on the bare rocks.

Only the hero Svyatogor rides between the cliffs on his mighty horse.
The horse jumps over the abyss, jumps over the gorges, crosses from mountain to mountain.

The old one travels through the Holy Mountains.

Here the mother of damp earth oscillates,

Stones fall into the abyss

Rapid rivers pour out.

The growth of the hero Svyatogor is higher than the dark forest, he props up the clouds with his head, jumps through the mountains - the mountains stagger under him, he will drive into the river - all the water from the river will splash out. He rides for a day, another, a third - he stops, pitches a tent - he lies down, sleeps, and again his horse wanders through the mountains.

It is boring for Svyatogor the hero, it is dreary for the old one: in the mountains there is no one to say a word to, no one to measure strength with.

He would go to Rus', take a walk with other heroes, fight with enemies, shake his strength, but the trouble is: the earth does not hold him, only the stone cliffs of Svyatogorsk under his weight do not collapse, do not fall, only their ridges do not crack under his hooves heroic horse.

It is hard for Svyatogor from his strength, he wears it like a heavy burden, he would be glad to give half of his strength, but there is no one. I would be glad to do the hardest work, but there is no work on the shoulder. Whatever he takes with his hand, everything will crumble into crumbs, flatten into a pancake.

He would begin to uproot the forests, but for him the forests are like meadow grass. He would move mountains, but no one needs it.

Eh, if I could find earthly traction, I would drive a ring into the sky, tie an iron chain to the ring, pull the sky to the earth, turn the earth upside down, mix the sky with the earth - I would spend a little power!

But where is it - cravings - to find!

Svyatogor once rides along the valley between the cliffs, and suddenly a living person is walking ahead!

A nondescript peasant is walking, trampling with his bast shoes, carrying a bag on his shoulder

Svyatogor was delighted: he would have someone to say a word to, - he began to catch up with the peasant.

He goes to himself, in no hurry, but Svyatogorov's horse gallops with all his might, but he cannot catch up with the peasant. A peasant is walking, not in a hurry, throwing his bag from shoulder to shoulder. Svyatogor is jumping at full speed - all the passerby is ahead! Goes step - do not catch up! Svyatogor shouted to him:

Hey passer-by, wait for me!

The man stopped and put his bag on the ground.

Svyatogor jumped up, greeted him and asked:

What kind of burden do you have in that purse? - And you take my handbag, throw it over your shoulder and run with it across the field.

Svyatogor laughed so that the mountains shook: he wanted to pry his bag with a whip, but the bag did not move, he began to push with a spear - it would not move, he tried to lift it with his finger - it did not rise.

Svyatogor got down from his horse, took his handbag with his right hand - he didn’t move it by a hair. The hero grabbed the purse with both hands, jerked with all his might - only raised it to his knees. Look - and he himself went knee-deep into the ground, not sweat, but blood flows down his face, his heart sank.

Svyatogor threw his handbag, fell to the ground - a rumble went through the mountains-dales.

The hero barely caught his breath:

Can you tell me what's in your bag? Tell me, teach me, I have never heard of such a miracle. My strength is exorbitant, but I can’t lift such a grain of sand!

Why not say? I will say: in my little purse all the earth's thrust lies.

Svyatogor lowered his head:

That's what the traction of the earth means. And who are you and what is your name, a passer-by?

I am a plowman, Mikula Selyaninovich.

I see a kind person, mother earth loves you! Can you tell me about my fate? It's hard for me to ride the mountains alone, I can't live like this anymore in the world.

Ride, hero, to the Northern mountains. There is an iron forge near those mountains. In that forge, the blacksmith forges the fate of everyone, you will learn about your own fate from him.

Mikula Selyaninovich threw his purse over his shoulder and walked away.

And Svyatogor jumped on his horse and galloped to the Northern Mountains.

Svyatogor rode and rode for three days, three nights, did not go to bed for three days - he reached the Northern Mountains. Here the cliffs are still naked, the abysses are even blacker, the deep rivers are more turbulent.

Under the cloud, on a bare rock, Svyatogor saw an iron forge. A bright fire is burning in the forge, black smoke is pouring out of the forge, ringing and knocking is going on all over the district.

Svyatogor went into the smithy and saw: a gray-haired old man was standing at the anvil, blowing up the bellows with one hand, hitting the anvil with a hammer with the other, but nothing was visible on the anvil.

Blacksmith, blacksmith, what are you forging, father?

Come closer, bend down!

Svyatogor bent down, looked and was surprised: the blacksmith forges two thin hair.

What do you have, blacksmith?

Here are two hairs, hairs with hairs of an owl - two people and they are getting married.

And who does fate tell me to marry?

Your bride lives on the edge of the mountains in a dilapidated hut.

Svyatogor went to the edge of the mountains, found a dilapidated hut. The hero entered it, put a gift on the table - a bag of gold. Svyatogor looked around and saw: a girl was lying motionless on a bench, all covered with bark and scabs, her eyes did not open.

It became a pity for her Svyatogor. What is it that lies and suffers? And death does not come, and there is no life.

Svyatogor pulled out his sharp sword, wanted to hit the girl, but his hand did not rise. The sword fell on the oak floor.

Svyatogor jumped out of the hut, mounted a horse and galloped to the Holy Mountains.

Meanwhile, the girl opened her eyes and sees: a heroic sword lies on the floor, a bag of gold is on the table, and all the bark has fallen off her, and her body is clean, and her strength has arrived.

She got up, walked along the mountain, went beyond the threshold, bent over the lake and gasped: a beautiful girl was looking at her from the lake - both stately, and white, and blush, and clear eyes, and fair-haired braids!

She took the gold that lay on the table, built ships, loaded them with goods and set off on the blue sea to trade, to seek happiness.

Wherever you come, all the people run - to buy goods, to admire the beauty. Her fame spreads throughout Rus'.

So she reached the Holy Mountains, the rumor about her reached Svyatogor. He also wanted to look at the beauty.

He looked at her, and the girl fell in love with him.

This is the bride for me, for this I will woo!

Svyatogor also fell in love with the girl.

They got married, and Svyatogor's wife began to tell about her former life, how she lay covered with bark for thirty years, how she was cured, how she found money on the table.

Svyatogor was surprised, but did not say anything to his wife.

The girl quit trading, sailing the seas, and began to live with Svyatogor on the Holy Mountains.

Many consider it a fiction, comparing it with fairy tales. However, the epic, that is, the true story, differs significantly from folk fantasy. Of course, the events described in the legends are much exaggerated. But scientists find evidence that they took place in real life. For example, in the caves of the Kyiv Lavra lies a cancer with the incorruptibles who lived during the reign of the prince. At the same time, Svyatogor also lived - a hero who repeatedly met with the winner of the Nightingale the Robber.

Ilya Muromets, Dobrynya Nikitich and Alyosha Popovich - this is the most famous trio of ancient Russian epic heroes, the prototypes of which, by the way, were real people. But the legends tell about another person, no less revered. This is the hero Svyatogor, whose biography is known mainly from epics. What he was - is not known for certain. After all, at the time when Svyatogor the Bogatyr lived, there were no cameras or television. According to legend, he was a real giant: he could easily put another knight in his pocket, and even with a horse! He also carried with him a chest with his beautiful wife. Epics tell how the hero of our story met with Muromets, how they became twin brothers, how Svyatogor got married (the moral is this: you can’t escape fate) and how he punished the unfaithful spouse.

According to the epics, the hero lived on the high Holy Mountains (hence his nickname), but did not visit the cities and villages of Rus'. Why? The Russian hero Svyatogor was taller than the forest, his head reached the clouds. When he was going on his way, the world shook, the rivers overflowed their banks, the forests swayed. With difficulty, Mother Earth Cheese held him. Therefore, probably, he so rarely left his house and went to the people. His strength was very great, and even arrived from day to day. But this was his curse, his torment: there was no other such knight who could compare with the strength of the hero. Therefore, he did not know where to put her, and in the end she killed him. We can definitely say that Svyatogor is a supernatural being, therefore it is doomed to death in advance. This is confirmed by the coffin he found in an open field, which took the body of the hero and stopped his ordeal.

According to one version, Svyatogor the Bogatyr is a descendant of the Lemurians, the giants who used to inhabit our planet. Perhaps the last of his kind, and therefore kept aloof from while treating her very friendly, although he did not understand her. However, such a judgment remains only a hypothesis - without confirmation or refutation.

But some researchers believe that they have found the last refuge of the hero. The boyar mound Gulbishche near Chernigov also belongs to the period of the war between the inhabitants of Rus' and the Pechenegs. The man buried in it (Svyatogor the hero?), although he did not belong to the princely family, was nevertheless very noble and important, as evidenced by the objects in the burial. The weapons and belongings of the deceased are of impressive size. Perhaps the historical prototype of the glorious epic knight rests here? It is worth noting that the location of the mound also suggests the veracity of the epics. Gulbishche is located on the Boldin Hills, not far from the Holy Grove. Were these rocks the home of Svyatogor?

Be that as it may, it can be assumed that a man of enormous stature and great strength, so vividly described in the Slavic epic, really walked the Russian land and did good.

The Holy Mountains are high in Rus', their gorges are deep, the abysses are terrible; Neither birch, nor oak, nor pine, nor green grass grow there. Even a wolf won't run through there, an eagle won't fly by, - even an ant has nothing to profit from on the bare rocks. Only the hero Svyatogor rides between the cliffs on his mighty horse. The horse jumps over the abyss, jumps over the gorges, crosses from mountain to mountain. The old one travels through the Holy Mountains. Here the mother of the damp earth wavers, Stones crumble in the abyss, Rapid rivers pour out. The growth of the hero Svyatogor is higher than the dark forest, he props up the clouds with his head, jumps through the mountains - the mountains stagger under him, he will drive into the river - all the water from the river will splash out. He rides for a day, another, a third, he stops, pitches a tent - he lies down, sleeps, and again his horse wanders through the mountains. It is boring for Svyatogor the hero, it is dreary for the old one: in the mountains there is no one to say a word to, no one to measure strength with. He would go to Rus', take a walk with other heroes, fight with enemies, shake his strength, but the trouble is: the earth does not hold him, only the stone cliffs of Svyatogorsk under his weight do not collapse, do not fall, only their ridges do not crack under his hooves heroic horse. It is hard for Svyatogor from his strength, he wears it like a heavy burden. I would be glad to give half of my strength, but there is no one. I would be glad to do the hardest work, but there is no work on the shoulder. Whatever he takes with his hand, everything will crumble into crumbs, flatten into a pancake. He would uproot forests, but for him forests are like meadow grass He would move mountains, but no one needs it ... So he rides alone through the Holy Mountains, his head from longing oppresses below ... - Eh, if only I could find earthly traction, I would drive a ring into the sky, tie an iron chain to the ring; would have pulled the sky to the earth, would have turned the earth upside down, mixed the sky with the earth - would have spent a little power! But where is it - traction - to find! Svyatogor once rides along the valley between the cliffs, and suddenly a living person is walking ahead! An unprepossessing little man is walking, stomping on his bast shoes, carrying a bag on his shoulder. Svyatogor was delighted: he would have someone to say a word to, - he began to catch up with the peasant. He goes to himself, in no hurry, but Svyatogorov's horse gallops with all his might, but he cannot catch up with the peasant. A peasant is walking, not in a hurry, throwing his bag from shoulder to shoulder. Svyatogor is jumping at full speed - everything is a passerby ahead! Goes step - do not catch up! Svyatogor shouted to him: “Hey, fellow passerby, wait for me!” The man stopped and put his bag on the ground. Svyatogor jumped up, greeted him and asked: - What kind of burden do you have in this purse? - And you take my purse, throw it over your shoulder and run with it across the field. Svyatogor laughed so that the mountains shook; I wanted to pry my purse with a whip, but the purse did not move, I began to push with a spear - it would not move, I tried to raise it with my finger, it did not rise ... Svyatogor got down from his horse, took the purse with his right hand - did not move it by a hair. The hero grabbed the purse with both hands, jerked with all his strength - only raised it to his knees. Look - and he himself went knee-deep into the ground, not sweat, but blood flows down his face, his heart sank ... Svyatogor threw his purse, fell to the ground, - a rumble went through the mountains-dales. The hero barely caught his breath - You tell me what you have in your purse? Tell me, teach me, I have never heard of such a miracle. My strength is exorbitant, but I can’t lift such a grain of sand! - Why not say - I will say: in my little purse all the earth's thrust lies. Spiatogor lowered his head: - That's what the earth's thrust means. And who are you and what is your name, a passer-by? - I'm a plowman, Mikula Selyaninovich - I see, a kind person, mother earth loves you! Can you tell me about my fate? It's hard for me to ride the mountains alone, I can't live like this anymore in the world. - Go, hero, to the Northern mountains. There is an iron forge near those mountains. In that forge, the blacksmith forges the fate of everyone, you will learn about your own fate from him. Mikula Selyaninovich threw his purse over his shoulder and walked away. And Svyatogor jumped on his horse and galloped to the Northern Mountains. Svyatogor rode and rode for three days, three nights, did not go to bed for three days - he reached the Northern Mountains. Here the cliffs are still naked, the abysses are even blacker, the rivers are deep and more turbulent... Under the very cloud, on a bare rock, Svyatogor saw an iron forge. A bright fire is burning in the forge, black smoke is pouring out of the forge, ringing-knocking is going on all over the district. Svyatogor went into the smithy and saw: a gray-haired old man was standing at the anvil, blowing up the bellows with one hand, hitting the anvil with a hammer with the other, but nothing was visible on the anvil. - Blacksmith, blacksmith, what are you forging, father? - Come closer, lean lower! Svyatogor bent down, looked and was surprised: the blacksmith forges two thin hair. — What do you have, blacksmith? “Here are two hairs of an okuyu, a hair with a hair of an owl—two people and they are getting married. - And who does fate tell me to marry? - Your bride lives on the edge of the mountains in a dilapidated hut.

Svyatogor went to the edge of the mountains, found a dilapidated hut. The hero entered it, put a gift bag with gold on the table. Svyatogor looked around and saw: a girl was lying motionless on a bench, all covered with bark and scabs, her eyes did not open. It became a pity for her Svyatogor. What is it that lies and suffers? And death does not come, and there is no life. Svyatogor pulled out his sharp sword, wanted to hit the girl, but his hand did not rise. The sword fell on the oak floor. Svyatogor jumped out of the hut, mounted a horse and galloped to the Holy Mountains. Meanwhile, the girl opened her eyes and sees: a heroic sword lies on the floor, a bag of gold is on the table, and all the bark has fallen off her, and her body is clean, and her strength has arrived. She got up, walked along the mountain, went beyond the threshold, bent over the lake and gasped: a beautiful girl was looking at her from the lake - and stately, and white, and ruddy, and clear eyes, and fair-haired braids! She took the gold that lay on the table, built ships, loaded them with goods and set off on the blue sea to trade, to seek happiness. Wherever you come, all the people run to buy goods, to admire the beauty. The fame of her throughout Rus' goes: So she reached the Holy Mountains, the rumor about her reached Svyatogor. He also wanted to look at the beauty. He looked at her, and the girl fell in love with him. - This is the bride for me, for this I will woo! Svyatogor also fell in love with the girl. They got married, and Svyatogor's wife began to tell about her former life, how she lay covered with bark for thirty years, how she was cured, how she found money on the table. Svyatogor was surprised, but did not say anything to his wife. The girl quit trading, sailing the seas, and began to live with Svyatogor on the Holy Mountains.

The Holy Mountains are high in Rus', their gorges are deep, the abysses are terrible. Neither birch, nor oak, nor pine, nor green grass. There, the wolf will not run, the eagle will not fly - the ant and that have nothing to profit from on the bare rocks. Only the hero Svyatogor rides between the cliffs on his mighty horse. The horse jumps over the abyss, jumps over the gorges, crosses from mountain to mountain.

The old one travels through the Holy Mountains.
Here mother-cheese earth oscillates,
Here the dark forests stagger,
Rapid rivers pour out.
The hero Svyatogor is taller than a dark forest, props up the clouds with his head, rides through the mountains - the mountains stagger under him, he will drive into the river - all the water from the river will splash. He rides for a day, another, third, stops, pitches a tent - lies down, sleeps, and again his horse wanders through the mountains.

It is boring for Svyatogor the hero, it is dreary for the old one: in the mountains there is no one to say a word to, no one to measure strength with.

He would go to Rus', take a walk with other heroes, fight with enemies, shake his strength, but the trouble is: the earth does not hold him, only the stone cliffs of Svyatogorsk under his weight do not collapse, do not fall, only their ridges do not crack under his hooves heroic horse.

It is hard for Svyatogor from his strength, he wears it like a heavy burden, he would be glad to give half of his strength, but there is no one. I would be glad to do the hardest work, but there is no work on the shoulder. Whatever he takes with his hand, everything will crumble into crumbs, flatten into a pancake.

He would begin to uproot the forests, but for him the forests are like meadow grass. He would move mountains - but no one needs it ...

So Svyatogor rides alone through the Holy Mountains So he rides alone through the Holy Mountains, his head is oppressed from longing below ...

Eh, if I could find earthly traction, I would drive a ring into the sky, tie an iron chain to the ring, pull the sky to the earth, turn the earth upside down, mix the sky with the earth - I would spend a little power! But where is it - cravings - to find!

Svyatogor once rides along the valley between the cliffs, and suddenly - a living person is walking ahead!

An unprepossessing little man is walking, stomping on his bast shoes, carrying a saddle bag on his shoulder.

Svyatogor was delighted: he would have someone to say a word to, - he began to catch up with the peasant.

He goes to himself, in no hurry, but Svyatogorov's horse gallops with all his might, but he cannot catch up with the peasant. A peasant is walking, not in a hurry, throwing his bag from shoulder to shoulder. Svyatogor is galloping at full speed - all the passerby is ahead! Goes step - do not catch up! Svyatogor shouted to him:

Hey passer-by, wait for me! The man stopped and put his bag on the ground.

Svyatogor jumped up, greeted him and asked:

What kind of burden do you have in that purse?

And you take my purse, throw it over your shoulder and run with it across the field.

Svyatogor laughed so that the mountains shook; I wanted to pry my purse with a whip, but the purse did not move, I began to push with a spear - it would not move, I tried to raise it with my finger - it did not rise ...

Svyatogor got down from his horse, took his handbag with his right hand - he didn’t move it by a hair. The hero grabbed the purse with both hands, jerked with all his might - only raised it to his knees. Look - and he himself went knee-deep into the ground, not sweat, but blood flows down his face, his heart sank ...

Svyatogor threw his handbag, fell to the ground - a rumble went through the mountains and valleys.

The hero barely caught his breath:

Can you tell me what's in your bag? Tell me, teach me, I have never heard of such a miracle. My strength is exorbitant, but I can’t lift such a grain of sand!

Why not say - I will say: in my little purse all the earth's thrust lies.

Svyatogor lowered his head:

That's what the traction of the earth means. What is your name, stranger?

My name is Mikula Selyaninovich.

I see - you are not an ordinary person; maybe you can tell me about my fate; it’s hard for me to jump over the mountains alone, I can’t live like this anymore in the world.

Ride, hero, to the Northern mountains. There is an iron forge near those mountains. In that forge, the blacksmith forges the fate of everyone, and you will learn about your own fate from him.

Mikula Selyaninovich threw his purse over his shoulder and walked away.

And Svyatogor jumped on his horse and galloped to the Northern Mountains.

Svyatogor rode and rode for three days, three nights, did not go to bed for three days - he reached the Northern Mountains. Here the cliffs are still naked, the abysses are even blacker, the deep rivers are more turbulent...

Under the very cloud, on a bare rock, Svyato Gora saw an iron forge. A bright fire burns in the forge, black smoke pours out of the forge, ringing and knocking all over the district goes.

Svyatogor went into the forge and saw: a gray-haired old man was standing at the anvil, blowing furs with one hand, hitting the anvil with a hammer with the other, but nothing was visible on the anvil ...

Blacksmith, blacksmith, what are you forging, father?

Come closer, bend down! Svyatogor bent down, looked and was surprised: the blacksmith forges two thin hairs.

What do you have, blacksmith?

Here are two hairs, hairs with hairs of an owl - two people and they are getting married.

And who does fate tell me to marry?

Your bride lives on the edge of the mountains in a dilapidated hut.

Svyatogor went to the edge of the mountains, found a dilapidated hut. The hero entered it, put a bag of gold on the table. Svyatogor looked around and saw: a girl was lying motionless on a bench, covered with bark and scabs, her eyes did not open.

It became a pity for her Svyatogor. What is it that lies and suffers? And death does not come, and there is no life.

Svyatogor drew his sharp sword, turned away and struck the girl in the chest with his sword. She didn't move, she didn't groan...

Svyatogor jumped out of the hut, mounted a horse and rode to the Holy Mountains.

Meanwhile, the girl opened her eyes and sees: a heroic sword lies on the floor, a bag of gold is on the table, and all the bark has fallen off her, and her body is clean, and her strength has arrived.

She got up, walked along the mountain, went beyond the threshold, bent over the lake and gasped: a beautiful girl was looking at her from the lake - and stately, and white, and ruddy, and clear eyes, and fair-haired braids!

She took the gold that lay on the table, built ships, loaded them with goods and set off on the blue sea to trade, to seek happiness.

Wherever you come, all the people run to buy goods, to admire the beauty. Her fame spreads throughout Rus'.

So she reached the Holy Mountains, the rumor about her reached Svyatogor. He also wanted to look at the beauty.

He looked at her, and the girl fell in love with him.

This is the bride for me, for this I will woo!

Svyatogor also fell in love with the girl.

They got married, and Svyatogor's wife began to tell about her former life, how she lay covered with bark for thirty years, how she was cured, how she found money on the table.

Svyatogor was surprised, but did not say anything to his wife.

The girl quit trading, sailing the seas, and began to live with Svyatogor on the Holy Mountains.

From afar, the hero Ilya Muromets rode out of a clean field. He rides across the field, sees: in front of him in the distance is a giant-hero on a mighty horse. The horse steps across the field, and the hero in the saddle fell asleep in a sound sleep. Ilya caught up with him:

Are you really sleeping or are you pretending?
The rich man is silent. Rides, sleeps. Ilya got angry. He grabbed his damask club, hit the hero. And he did not open his eyes. The second, third time, Ilya called out to him, hit him - so much so that he knocked his own hand off. And the hero woke up, looked around, scratched himself:
- Oh, and it hurts Russian flies bite!

He noticed Ilya, put him, along with his horse, into his pocket and rode on. His horse began to stumble from the weight.
Then the hero remembered Ilya, took him out of his pocket and asks:
“What, you wanted to fight me?”

Ilya Muromets answered him:
“I don't want to fight with you. Let's better be friends.
The rich man agreed. They fraternized - Svyatogor-bogatyr and Ilya Muromets. They sat down, talked, told each other about themselves. Then we went together.
We arrived at the Mount of Olives. They look - a wonderful miracle: an empty oak coffin stands on a mountain.
- And who is destined to lie in this coffin? Svyatogor says. - You lie down, Ilya, in a coffin, and measure: is it not for you?
Ilya Muromets measured - no, the coffin is not suitable for him: it is long in length and wide in width. Lie down in the coffin of Svyatogor. The coffin fit him just right.

- Come on, Ilya, cover me with an oak lid: I'll lie down in a coffin, show off.
Ilya covered the coffin of his older brother named. Svyatogor lay down and asks:

It's hard for me to breathe in a coffin. Open, Ilya, the lid.
And Ilya cannot be opened in any way.
“Break the lid with your sword,” Svyatogor says.

Ilya obeyed, began to chop the lid with his sword. Whatever the blow, an iron hoop jumps up across the coffin. Ilya beats up and down - along and across the coffin iron hoops lie down. Svyatogor understood that he would not come out into the world again. Speaks:

- Apparently, here the end came to me. Bend over to me, Ilya, I will breathe on you - you have more strength and more.
- I have enough Silushka, - Ilya answers, - if I add more, the earth will not be able to carry me.
And the brothers named said goodbye here. Svyatogor remained in the heroic coffin to lie. And Ilya Muromets went to Holy Rus' to tell in the city of Kyiv what a miracle happened on the Mount of Olives.