The knight's astonished steed below.

They're 'neath the clouds, Ruslan still gripping

The beard and swinging in the air.

O'er seas and forests, o'er the bare

And rugged hills, their summits tipping,

The dwarf wings, and the stalwart knight,

Though numb and stiff his hand is growing,

Holds dogged on. The dwarf is quite

Used up by now and winded. Slowing

His progress through the air at length,

Amazed and awed by Russian strength,

He turns to our young knight and slyly

Says to him: "Prince, I'll do you ill

No more; in faith, I value highly

Young valour such as yours and will

Descend at once-on one condition...."

"Be silent, dastardly magician!"

Ruslan exclaims. "I will not treat

With my beloved bride's tormentor,

Nor into any dealings enter

With you! This sword-'tis only meet

Will punish you, and this most surel'

All of your wiles will serve you poorly!

Fly to the stars, if you so choose,

And still your whiskers you will lose!"

A horrid fear the wizard seizes,

In vain to free himself he tries,

The prince's grip is like a vise,

He tweaks the beard, and, gleeful, teases

The dwarf by plucking out the hairs

For two whole days the midget bear

Ruslan, but on the third, a'quiver

With fright, he cries: "Have mercy, pray!