'Tis much too much... Quite frankly, I,

Were such my case, would choose to die!

But poor Ruslan's alive and tortured

In mind and heart.... O'erwhelmed by news,

Just then arrived, of the misfortune,

The Prince, enraged, turns on the youth.

The whole court summoning, "Ludmila....

Where is Ludmila?" thunders he.

Ruslan does not respond. "My children!

Your merits past high hold I.... Free,

I beg, my daughter from the clutches

Of evil. I am helpless; such is

Old age's piteous frailty.

But though I am too old to do it,

Not so are you. Go forth and save

My poor Ludmila, you'll not rue it:

He who succeeds, shall-writhe, you knave!

Wby did you not, wretch, base tormentor,

Know how to guard your young wife better?

Shall have Ludmila for a bride

And half my fathers' realm beside!...

Who'll heed my plea?" "I!" says the grieving,

Unhappy groom. "I!" shouts Rogdai,

And echoed by Farlaf his cry

And by Ratmir is. "W^e are leaving

Straightway, and pray believe us, sire,

We'll ride around the world entire

If need be. From your daughter parted

Not long will you be, never fear."

The old prince cannot speak for tears;

His gratitude is mute; sadhearted,

A broken man, at door he stands

And to them stretches out his hands.