Rogdai is silent; with increasing

Unease his heart fills; dark thoughts chill

And burden him; he is tormented

By jealousy, and, all calm gone,

With hate-glazed eye, like one demented,

Stares sullenlv at Prince Ruslan.

Along a single road the rivals

Rode on all through the day until

From east poured shades that night's arrival

Bespoke.... The Dnieper, cold and still,

Is wrapt in folds of mist.... The horses

Have need of rest.... Not far away

A track lies that another crosses.

" Tis time to part," the riders say.

"Let us chance fate." So 'tis decided;

Each horse is given now its head,

And, by the touch of spur unguided,

Starts off and moves where 'twill ahead.

What do you in the hush of desert

Alone, Ruslan? Sad is your plight.

Was't all a dream - the bride you treasured,

The terrors of your wedding night?

Your helmet pushed down to your brow

Your strong hands limp, the reins let loose,

O'er woods and fields astride your steed

You ride, while faith and hope recede

And leave you well-nigh dead of spirit..

A cave shows Tore the knight; he nears

And sees a light there. His feet lead

Him straight inside. The dark and broo

Vaults seem as old as nature. Moody,

Distraught Ruslan is.... In the cave

A bearded ancient, his mien grave

And quiet, sits. A lamp is burning