The guitar-players celebrated the daring of Balaban and his Cossacks for a long time afterwards.

Now he bowed his head, feeling the pains which precede death, and said quietly, "I am permitted, brother gentles, to die a fine death.

Seven have I hewn in pieces, nine have I pierced with my lance, many have I trampled upon with my horse's hoofs; and I no longer remember how many my bullets have slain.

May our Russian land flourish forever!" and his spirit fled.
Cossacks, Cossacks! abandon not the flower of your army.

Already was Kukubenko surrounded, and seven men only remained of all the Nezamaikovsky kuren, exhausted and with garments already stained with their blood.