Cheeks puffing up, with all its might

To blow at our hapless knight.

To no avail the horse, much startled,

Head downward held and eyes squeezed tight,

To push through rain and whirlwind strained;

Half-blinded, terrified, and drained

Of half his strength, he spun around

And ran, for safer places bound.

Ruslan made fresh attempts to guide him

And to attack the Head anew-

He was repulsed, at him it blew

And cackled crazily. Behind him

He heard it boom: "Ho, knight, where to?

To flee is most unwise of you,

You'll break your neck! Come, my assailant,

Attack me, show me just how valiant

You are! But no, you'd better stop;

Your poor old nag is fit to drop!"

And sticking out its tongue, it taunted

And teased the knight. The monster's leer

Left our young hero quite undaunted

Though sorely vexed. He raised his spear

And at the Head the weapon flung,

And, quivering, the brazen tongue

It pierced and there was to remain

Stuck fast in it. Of blood a torrent

Poured from the maw. The great Head's pain

And its amazement were apparent;

Gone was its cheek, its beet-red hue;

Upon the prince its great eyes fastened,

It chewed on steel, and greyer grew,

And though still seething, was much chastened.

So on the stage one of the Muse's