His lips, half-open, are aglow

And seem to be in secret claiming

Another's lips; he heaves a low,

A moan-like, lingering sigh, and, seizing

The quilt, with quickened, fevered breathing,

To his breast presses it.... The door

Squeaks open, moon beams streak the floor,

A maid steals in.... Awake, Ratmir!

Of sleep asunder tear the meshes!

Night's every moment is too precious,

Pray waste them not!... The maid draws near

The sleeping knight with softest tread....

His face, on hot down pillowed, blazes,

The silk quilt's slipped from off the bed.

She holds her breath and at him gazes,

Entranced by what she sees, by this

Limp, sensuous form now left 'thout cover:

She's sanctimonious Artemis

Beside her youthful shepherd lover.

Then, gracefully and lightly she

Puts on the couch a rounded knee,

And o'er the lucky sleeper leaning,

Sighs deeply, to his breathing listens,

And rouses him from sensuous dreaming

With passionate and fiery kisses....

But stay! Beneath my slowing fingers

The virgin lyre now turns still,

My shy voice weaker grows - we will

Leave young Ratmir, I dare not sing of

Him more or in this vein go on:

'Tis time, friends, to recall Ruslan,

That stalwart staunch as he is fearless,

That lover true, that gallant peerless.