Ilya Muromets and the Nightingale the Robber is a folk tale in which children learn about the hero’s feat of arms. Rumors about the atrocities of Nightingale the Robber reached Ilya from the glorious city of Murom. This robber lived in a dense forest, frightened people with his whistles and screams and robbed trade caravans. As bad news came to Ilya Muromets, he took his heroic sword and went to battle. He found Nightingale, but the robber did not want to give up, and for a long time tried to intimidate Ilya with a fierce whistle. The hero did not give in and defeated the villain with an arrow and sword. The Prince of Kiev learned about this feat and called Ilya Muromets to his squad.

Ilya Muromets gallops at full speed. His horse, Burushka-Kosmatushka, jumps from mountain to mountain, jumps over rivers and lakes, and flies over hills. They galloped to the Bryn forests; Burushka could not ride any further: the swamps were swampy, and the horse was drowning in water up to its belly. Ilya jumped off his horse. He supports Burushka with his left hand, and with his right hand he tears up oak trees by the roots and lays oak floorings through the swamp. Ilya laid out decks for thirty miles - good people still ride on them.

So Ilya reached the Smorodina River. The river flows wide, turbulent, and rolls from stone to stone. The horse Burushka neighed, soared higher than the dark forest and jumped over the river in one bound. And across the river the Nightingale the Robber sits on three oak trees, on nine branches. Neither a falcon will fly past those oak trees, nor a beast will run, nor a snake will crawl past them. Everyone is afraid of the Nightingale the Robber, no one wants to die... The Nightingale heard the gallop of a horse, stood up on the oak trees, and shouted in a terrible voice:

What kind of ignoramus is driving here, past my protected oak trees? Doesn't let the Robber Nightingale sleep!

Yes, as he whistled like a nightingale, roared like an animal, hissed like a snake, the whole earth trembled, the hundred-year-old oaks swayed, the flowers fell off, the grass lay down. Burushka-Kosmatushka fell to his knees. And Ilya sits in the saddle, does not move, the light brown curls on his head do not tremble. He took a silk whip and hit the horse on the steep sides.

You are a bag of grass, not a heroic horse. Have you not heard the squeak of a bird, the hiss of a viper? Get on your feet, take me closer to the Nightingale’s Nest, or I’ll throw you to the wolves.

Then Burushka jumped to his feet and galloped towards the Nightingale’s nest. The Nightingale the Robber was surprised

What is it?

He leaned out of the nest. And Ilya, without a moment’s hesitation, pulled his tight bow and released a red-hot arrow, a small arrow weighing a whole pound. The bowstring howled, the arrow flew, hit the Nightingale in the right eye, and flew out through the left ear. The Nightingale rolled out of the nest like a sheaf of oats. Ilya picked him up in his arms, tied him tightly with rawhide straps, and tied him to the left stirrup.

The Nightingale looks at Ilya, afraid to say a word.

Why are you looking at me, robber, or have you never seen Russian heroes?

Oh, I’m in strong hands, I’ll probably never be free again!

Ilya galloped further along the straight road and rode to the farmstead of the Nightingale the Robber. He has a courtyard of seven miles, on seven pillars, he has an iron fence around him, on each stamen there is a crown, on each crown there is the head of a slain hero. And in the courtyard there are white stone chambers, gilded porches burning like heat.

Nightingale’s daughter saw the heroic horse and shouted to the whole yard:

Our father Solovey Rakhmanovich is riding, riding, carrying a peasant peasant at his stirrup.

The wife of the Nightingale the Robber looked out the window and clasped her hands:

What are you saying, foolish one! This is a country man riding and carrying our father, Solovy Rakhmanovich, at the stirrup!

Nightingale’s eldest daughter, Pelka, ran out into the yard, grabbed an iron board weighing ninety pounds and threw it at Ilya Muromets. But Ilya was dexterous and evasive, he waved the board away with a heroic hand, the board flew back, hit Pelka and killed her to death. Nightingale’s wife threw herself at Ilya’s feet:

Take from us, hero, silver, gold, priceless pearls, as much as your heroic horse can carry, just release our father, Nightingale the Robber.

Ilya says to her in response:

I don’t need unjust gifts. They were obtained with the tears of children, they were watered with Russian blood, acquired by peasant need. Like a robber in the hands - he is always your friend, but if you let him go, you will cry with him again. I’ll take Nightingale to Kyiv-Gorod, where I’ll drink kvass and make kalachi.

Ilya turned his horse and galloped towards Kyiv.

The Nightingale fell silent and did not move. Ilya is driving around Kyiv, approaching the princely chambers. He tied the horse to a chiseled post, left the Nightingale the Robber on it, and he himself went to the bright room. There, Prince Vladimir is having a feast, Russian heroes are sitting at the tables. Ilya entered, bowed, and stood at the threshold:

Hello, Prince Vladimir and Princess Apraxia, are you receiving a visiting young man?

Vladimir Red Sun asks him:

Where are you from, good fellow, what is your name? What tribe are you?

My name is Ilya. I'm from near Murom. A peasant son from the village of Karacharova. I was driving from Chernigov along a straight, wide road. I brought you, prince, the Nightingale the Robber, he is tied to my horse in your yard. Wouldn't you like to take a look at him?

The prince and princess and all the heroes jumped up from their seats and hurried after Ilya to the prince’s court. They ran up to Burushka-Kosmatushka. And the robber hangs by the stirrup, hanging with a grass bag, his hands and feet tied with straps. With his left eye he looks at Kyiv and Prince Vladimir.

Prince Vladimir tells him:

Come on, whistle like a nightingale, roar like an animal!

The Nightingale the Thief does not look at him, does not listen:

It was not you who took me in battle, it is not you who ordered me.

Then Prince Vladimir asks Ilya Muromets:

Order him, Ilya Ivanovich.

Okay, but don’t be angry with me, prince, I’ll cover you and the princess with the skirts of my peasant caftan, no matter how much trouble there is. And you, Solovey Rakhmanovich, do as you are ordered.

I can’t whistle, my mouth is caked.

Give the Nightingale Chara a bucket and a half of sweet wine, and another of bitter beer, and a third of intoxicating honey, give him a snack of rye roll, then he will whistle and amuse us...

They gave the Nightingale a drink, fed it, and the Nightingale got ready to whistle.

Look, Nightingale,” says Ilya, “don’t you dare whistle at the top of your voice, but whistle half-whistle, growl half-roar, otherwise it will be bad for you.”

Nightingale did not listen to the order of Ilya Muromets, he wanted to ruin Kyiv City, he wanted to kill the prince and princess and all the Russian heroes. He whistled like a nightingale, roared like a nightingale, and hissed like a snake.

What happened here! The turrets on the towers became crooked, the porches fell off the walls, the glass in the upper rooms burst, the horses ran away from the stables, all the heroes fell to the ground and crawled around the yard on all fours. Prince Vladimir himself is barely alive, staggering, hiding under Ilya’s caftan.

Ilya got angry with the robber:

I told you to amuse the prince and princess, but you did so much trouble. Well, now I’ll pay you off for everything. You are full of offending fathers and mothers, you are full of widowing young women, you are full of orphaning children, you are full of robberies. Ilya took a sharp saber and cut off the Nightingale’s head. Here the end of the Nightingale came.

Thank you, Ilya Muromets, says Vladimir the Prince. - Stay in my squad, you will be a senior hero, a boss over other heroes. And live with us in Kyiv, live forever, from now until death.

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Ilya Muromets and the Nightingale the Robber - Russian folk tale

The tale of how the glorious hero Ilya Muromets caught Nightingale the Robber and brought him to Prince Vladimir in the city of Kyiv...

Ilya Muromets and Nightingale the Robber read

Ilya Muromets gallops at full speed. His horse, Burushka-Kosmatushka, jumps from mountain to mountain, jumps over rivers and lakes, and flies over hills. They galloped to the Bryn forests; Burushka could not ride any further: the swamps were swampy, and the horse was drowning in water up to its belly. Ilya jumped off his horse. He supports Burushka with his left hand, and with his right hand he tears up oak trees by the roots and lays oak floorings through the swamp. Ilya laid out decks for thirty miles - good people still ride on them.

So Ilya reached the Smorodina River. The river flows wide, turbulent, and rolls from stone to stone. The horse Burushka neighed, soared higher than the dark forest and jumped over the river in one bound. And across the river the Nightingale the Robber sits on three oak trees, on nine branches. Neither a falcon will fly past those oak trees, nor a beast will run, nor a snake will crawl past them. Everyone is afraid of the Nightingale the Robber, no one wants to die... The Nightingale heard the gallop of a horse, stood up on the oak trees, and shouted in a terrible voice:

- What kind of ignoramus is driving here, past my protected oak trees? Doesn't let the Robber Nightingale sleep!

Yes, as he whistled like a nightingale, roared like an animal, hissed like a snake, the whole earth trembled, the hundred-year-old oaks swayed, the flowers fell off, the grass lay down. Burushka-Kosmatushka fell to his knees. And Ilya sits in the saddle, does not move, the light brown curls on his head do not tremble. He took a silk whip and hit the horse on the steep sides.

- You are a bag of grass, not a heroic horse. Have you not heard the squeak of a bird, the hiss of a viper? Get on your feet, take me closer to the Nightingale’s Nest, or I’ll throw you to the wolves.

Then Burushka jumped to his feet and galloped towards the Nightingale’s nest. The Nightingale the Robber was surprised

- What is it?

He leaned out of the nest. And Ilya, without a moment’s hesitation, pulled his tight bow and released a red-hot arrow, a small arrow weighing a whole pound. The bowstring howled, the arrow flew, hit the Nightingale in the right eye, and flew out through the left ear. The Nightingale rolled out of the nest like a sheaf of oats. Ilya picked him up in his arms, tied him tightly with rawhide straps, and tied him to the left stirrup.

The Nightingale looks at Ilya, afraid to say a word.

Why are you looking at me, robber, or have you never seen Russian heroes?

Oh, I’m in strong hands, I’ll probably never be free again!

Ilya galloped further along the straight road and rode to the farmstead of the Nightingale the Robber. He has a courtyard of seven miles, on seven pillars, he has an iron fence around him, on each stamen there is a crown, on each crown there is the head of a slain hero. And in the courtyard there are white stone chambers, gilded porches burning like heat.

Nightingale’s daughter saw the heroic horse and shouted to the whole yard:

Our father Solovey Rakhmanovich is riding, riding, carrying a peasant peasant at his stirrup.

The wife of the Nightingale the Robber looked out the window and clasped her hands:

What are you saying, foolish one! This is a country man riding and carrying our father, Solovy Rakhmanovich, at the stirrup!

Nightingale’s eldest daughter, Pelka, ran out into the yard, grabbed an iron board weighing ninety pounds and threw it at Ilya Muromets. But Ilya was dexterous and evasive, he waved the board away with a heroic hand, the board flew back, hit Pelka and killed her to death. Nightingale’s wife threw herself at Ilya’s feet:

Take from us, hero, silver, gold, priceless pearls, as much as your heroic horse can carry, just release our father, Nightingale the Robber.

Ilya says to her in response:

I don’t need unjust gifts. They were obtained with the tears of children, they were watered with Russian blood, acquired by peasant need. Like a robber in the hands - he is always your friend, but if you let him go, you will cry with him again. I’ll take Nightingale to Kyiv-Gorod, where I’ll drink kvass and make kalachi.

Ilya turned his horse and galloped towards Kyiv. The Nightingale fell silent and did not move. Ilya is driving around Kyiv, approaching the princely chambers. He tied the horse to a chiseled post, left the Nightingale the Robber on it, and he himself went to the bright room. There, Prince Vladimir is having a feast, Russian heroes are sitting at the tables. Ilya entered, bowed, and stood at the threshold:

Hello, Prince Vladimir and Princess Apraxia, are you receiving a visiting young man?

Vladimir Red Sun asks him:

Where are you from, good fellow, what is your name? What tribe are you?

My name is Ilya. I'm from near Murom. A peasant son from the village of Karacharova. I was driving from Chernigov along a straight, wide road. I brought you, prince, the Nightingale the Robber, he is tied to my horse in your yard. Wouldn't you like to take a look at him?

The prince and princess and all the heroes jumped up from their seats and hurried after Ilya to the prince’s court. They ran up to Burushka-Kosmatushka. And the robber hangs by the stirrup, hanging with a grass bag, his hands and feet tied with straps. With his left eye he looks at Kyiv and Prince Vladimir.

Prince Vladimir tells him:

Come on, whistle like a nightingale, roar like an animal!

The Nightingale the Thief does not look at him, does not listen:

It was not you who took me in battle, it is not you who ordered me.

Then Prince Vladimir asks Ilya Muromets:

Order him, Ilya Ivanovich.

Okay, but don’t be angry with me, prince, I’ll cover you and the princess with the skirts of my peasant caftan, no matter how much trouble there is. And you, Solovey Rakhmanovich, do as you are ordered.

I can’t whistle, my mouth is caked.

Give the Nightingale Chara a bucket and a half of sweet wine, and another of bitter beer, and a third of intoxicating honey, give him a snack of rye roll, then he will whistle and amuse us...

They gave the Nightingale a drink, fed it, and the Nightingale got ready to whistle.

Look, Nightingale,” says Ilya, “don’t you dare whistle at the top of your voice, but whistle half-whistle, growl half-roar, otherwise it will be bad for you.”

Nightingale did not listen to the order of Ilya Muromets, he wanted to ruin Kyiv City, he wanted to kill the prince and princess and all the Russian heroes. He whistled like a nightingale, roared like a nightingale, and hissed like a snake.

What happened here! The turrets on the towers became crooked, the porches fell off the walls, the glass in the upper rooms burst, the horses ran away from the stables, all the heroes fell to the ground and crawled around the yard on all fours. Prince Vladimir himself is barely alive, staggering, hiding under Ilya’s caftan.

Ilya got angry with the robber:

I told you to amuse the prince and princess, but you did so much trouble. Well, now I’ll pay you off for everything. You are full of offending fathers and mothers, you are full of widowing young women, you are full of orphaning children, you are full of robberies. Ilya took a sharp saber and cut off the Nightingale’s head. Here the end of the Nightingale came.

Thank you, Ilya Muromets, says Vladimir the Prince. - Stay in my squad, you will be a senior hero, a boss over other heroes. And live with us in Kyiv, live forever, from now until death.

(Illustration by V. Sluzhaeva)

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Ilya left Murom early and early, and he wanted to get to the capital Kyiv-grad by lunchtime. His fast horse gallops a little lower than the walking cloud, higher than the standing forest. And quickly the hero arrived to the city of Chernigov. And near Chernigov there is a countless enemy force. There is no pedestrian or horse access. Enemy hordes are approaching the fortress walls, planning to overwhelm and ruin Chernigov. Ilya rode up to the countless army and began to beat the rapist invaders like mowing grass. And with a sword, and a spear, and a heavy club [A club is a war club.], and a heroic horse tramples enemies. And he soon nailed and trampled that great enemy force.
The gates in the fortress wall opened, the Chernigovites came out, bowed low to the hero and called him the governor of Chernigov-grad.
“Thank you for the honor, men of Chernigov, but I don’t want to sit as a governor in Chernigov,” answered Ilya Ivanovich. - I’m in a hurry to the capital Kyiv-grad. Show me the straight path!
- You are our deliverer, glorious Russian hero, the direct road to Kyiv-grad is overgrown and walled up. The roundabout route is now used on foot and on horseback. Near the Black Mud, near the Smorodinka River, the Nightingale the Robber, Odikhmantiev’s son, settled. The robber sits on twelve oak trees. The villain whistles like a nightingale, screams like an animal, and from the whistling of the nightingale and from the cry of the animal, all the ant-grass has withered, the azure flowers are crumbling, the dark forests are bending to the ground, and people are lying dead! Don't go that way, glorious hero!

Ilya did not listen to the Chernigov residents and went straight ahead. He approaches the Smorodinka River and the Black Mud.
The Nightingale the Robber noticed him and began to whistle like a nightingale, screamed like an animal, and the villain hissed like a snake. The grass withered, the flowers fell off, the trees bowed to the ground, and the horse under Ilya began to stumble. The hero got angry and swung a silk whip at the horse.

Why are you, wolf's feed [Syt - food, food], grass bag, stumbling? Apparently you haven’t heard the whistle of a nightingale, the thorn of a snake or the cry of an animal?

He himself grabbed a tight, explosive bow and shot at the Nightingale the Robber, wounding the monster’s right eye and right hand, and the villain fell to the ground. The hero tied the robber to the stirrup and drove Nightingale across the open field past Nightingale’s lair. The sons and daughters saw how they were carrying their father, tied to the stirrup, grabbed swords and spears, and ran to rescue the Nightingale the Robber. And Ilya scattered them, scattered them and, without hesitation, began to continue his path.
Ilya arrived in the capital Kyiv-grad, to the wide princely courtyard. And the glorious Prince Vladimir - Krasno Solnyshko with the popliteal princes [Podlitelny - here: subordinate.], with the honorable boyars and the mighty heroes, had just sat down at the dinner table.
Ilya parked his horse in the middle of the yard and entered the dining room himself. He laid down the cross in the written way, bowed on four sides in a learned way, and made a special appearance to the Grand Duke himself.
Prince Vladimir began to ask:
- Where are you from, good fellow, what is your name, what is your patronymic?
- I am from the city of Murom, from the suburban village of Karacharova, Ilya Muromets.
How long ago, good fellow, did you leave Murom?
“I left Murom early in the morning,” answered Ilya, “I wanted to be in time for mass in Kyiv-grad, but on the road, I was late on the way.” And I was driving straight along the road past the city of Chernigov, past the Smorodinka River and Black Mud.
The prince frowned, frowned, and looked unkindly:
- You, peasant hillbilly, are mocking us to our face! There is an enemy army near Chernigov - a countless force, and there is no passage or passage for either foot or horse. And from Chernigov to Kyiv the straight road has long been overgrown and foggy. Near the river Smorodinka and Black Mud, the robber Nightingale, Odikhmantiev’s son, sits on twelve oak trees and does not allow anyone on foot or horse to pass. Not even a falcon bird can fly there!
Ilya Muromets responds to those words:

Near Chernigov, the enemy army lies beaten and fought, and the Nightingale the Robber is in your yard, wounded, tied to a stirrup.
Prince Vladimir jumped out from behind the table, threw a marten coat over one shoulder, a sable hat over one ear, and ran out onto the red porch. I saw the Nightingale the Robber, tied to his stirrup:
- Whistle, Nightingale, like a nightingale, scream, dog, like an animal, hiss, robber, like a snake!
- It was not you, prince, who captivated me and defeated me. Ilya Muromets won and captivated me. And I won’t listen to anyone but him.
“Order, Ilya Muromets,” says Prince Vladimir. - whistle, shout, hiss to the Nightingale!
Ilya Muromets ordered:
- Whistle, Nightingale, half the whistle of a nightingale, scream half the cry of an animal, hiss half the thorn of a snake!
- From a bloody wound. “The Nightingale says,” my mouth is dry. You ordered me to pour a glass of green wine, not a small glass - one and a half buckets, and then I will amuse the princes of Vladimir.
They brought the Nightingale the Robber a glass of green wine. The villain took the charm with one hand and drank the charm as one spirit. After that, he whistled with a full whistle like a nightingale, screamed with a full cry like an animal, and hissed with a full thorn like a snake. Here the domes on the towers became crooked, and the windows [Okolenki - window frame, window frame.] in the towers crumbled, all the people who were in the yard lay dead. Vladimir the Prince of Stolno-Kiev covers himself with a marten fur coat and crawls around.
Ilya Muromets got angry. He mounted his good horse and took the Nightingale the Robber out into the open field:
- You’re full of ruining people, villain! - And he cut off the head of the Nightingale.
This is how long the Nightingale the Robber lived in the world. That's where the story ended.

ILYA MUROMETS AND THE NIGHTINGALE THE ROBBER

Either from the city of Murom,

From that village and Karacharova

a remote, portly, kind fellow was leaving.

He stood at Matins in Murom,

And he wanted to be in time for lunch in the capital Kyiv-grad.

Yes, he drove up to the glorious city of Chernigov,

Is it near the city of Chernigov?

The forces are caught up in black and black,

And it’s as black as a black crow.

No one walks here so reluctantly,

No one rides here on a good horse,

The black raven bird does not fly,

Let the gray beast not prowl.

And he approached as if to a great powerhouse,

How did he become this great powerhouse,

He began to trample with his horse and began to stab with a spear,

And he defeated this great force,

He drove up to the glorious city of Chernigov,

The peasants came out and here Chernigov

And they opened the gates to Chernigov-grad.

And they call him a governor in Chernigov.

Ilya tells them these words:

Hey guys, you're from Chernigov!

I am not coming to you as a commander in Chernigov.

He began to jump from hill to hill,

There were small rivers and little lakes between my legs.

He drives up to the river near Smorodinka,

Yes, to that he is to Dirt, he is to Black.

Yes, to that birch tree, to the curse,

To that glorious cross to Levanidov.

The Nightingale whistled like a nightingale,

The villain-robber screamed like an animal -

So all the grass-ants were entwined,

And the azure flowers fell off,

The dark forests all bowed to the ground.

His good horse and heroic

And he stumbles on the roots -

And like the old Cossack and Ilya Muromets

He takes a silk whip in his hand when in trouble.

And he hit the horse on its steep ribs.

He spoke to Ilya these words:

Oh, you're a wolf's fill and a bag of grass!*

Or don’t you want to go, or can’t carry it?

Why are you stumbling on the roots, dog?

Have you heard the nightingale whistle,

Have you heard the cry of an animal?

Have you seen any heroic blows? -

And here is the old Cossack and Ilya Muromets

Yes, he takes his tight, explosive bow*,

He takes it in his own hands,

He pulled the silken string,

And he put a red-hot arrow,

He shot at that Nightingale the Robber,

He knocked out his right eye with a pigtail,

He let the Nightingale fall to the damp ground.

He fastened it to the right one with a damask stirrup,

He drove him across the glorious open field,

He took a nightingale past the nest.

In that nest and the nightingale

And it happened that there were three daughters,

And his three beloved daughters.

Big daughter - this one looks out the window awkwardly,

She says these are the words:

Our father is driving through an open field.

And he sits on a good horse,

And he’s carrying a hillbilly peasant

Yes, the one on the right is chained to the stirrup.-

Looked like another beloved daughter,

Our father is driving through an open field of land,

Yes, and he’s carrying a hillbilly peasant

Yes, and chained to the right stirrup.-

His beloved little daughter looked at him,

She said these words:

A hillbilly peasant is riding,

And the man is sitting on a good horse.

And our father is lucky at the stirrup,

The damask one is chained to the stirrup -

His right eye with a braid was knocked out.

She also said these words:

And our beloved husbands!

You take the animal spears*

Yes, run to the open field in the expanse,

Yes, you beat the hillbilly peasant!

These husbands and their beloved ones,

There are sons-in-law and nightingales,

Grabbed like animal horns

Yes, and they ran into an open field

Whether to the peasant-hillbilly

Yes, they want to kill the hillbilly peasant.