More certain to provoke our rage!

His brazen hand the puny mage

Lays on the charms of young Ludmila.

Is he-foul thought!-to taste of bliss?

But hark! A horn sounds. What means this?

A challenge to him? Yes! The midget's....

Face shows cold fear. He quails, he fidgets...

A louder blare! Back on her head

The magic cap he puts, and, paling,

Is off, his beard behind him trailing,

To meet the fate that lies ahead.

RUSLAN AND LYUDMILA: CANTO THE FIFTH.

How dear my princess is, one bows

'Fore her, to sing her praises anxious:

She is so tender, unpretentious,

So faithful to her marriage vows;

Capricious, yes, but not unduly,

Which makes her only sweeter, truly.

Her ways delight us, they endear

Her to us, leaving us enchanted.

How to compare her with Delphire

Who's so unfeeling, so flint-hearted!

By fate endowed has been the first

With mien and manner most beguiling;

To hear her speak, to see her smiling

Makes one's heart throb, with love athirst.

Delphire now, spurs and whiskers added,

Would make a true Hussar. But stay!

Blest is he who at end of day

Has a Ludmila waiting for him

In some lone nook, and from her hears

That he's her love, that she adores him.

And likewise blest is a Delphire's

Admirer who is too clear-headed