Their health, a handsome cup and great

To his lips held and fond thoughts thinking.

Our fathers ate 'thout haste-indeed,

Passed slowly round the groaning tables

The silver beakers were and ladles

With frothing ale filled and with mead.

Into the heart cheer poured they, truly....

The bearers, bowing, solemn-faced,

Before the feasters tankards placed;

High rose the foam and hissed, unruly....

The hum of talk is loud, unceasing;

Abuzz the guests: a merry round.

Then through the hubbub, all ears pleasing,

There comes the gusli's rippling sound.

A hush. In dulcet song and ringing

Bayan, the bard-all hark him well-

Of bride and groom the praise is singing;

He lauds their union, gift of Lel.*

Lel -the Slavic god of love.

Ruslan, o'ercome by fiery feeling,

Of food partakes not; from Ludmila

He cannot tear away his eyes;

He flames with love, he frowns, he sighs,

At his moustache plucks, filled with torme

And, all impatience, counts each moment.

Amid the noisy feasters brood

Three youthful knights. In doleful mood

They sit there, their great tankards empty

With downcast eyes, the fare, though tempting,

Untouched; the goblets past them sail;

They do not seem to hear the tale

Of wisdom chanted by Bayan....

The luckless rivals of Ruslan,

Of love and hate a deadly brew