Into the streams. The distant ridges

Send back the clang, the boom, the din;

Ruslan's sword sings and whistles. Grim

The scene is: all is devastation;

Insensed and maddened, our young knigt

A victim seeks; on left and right

His sword the air cuts 'thout cessation....

Then all at once a chance thrust sends

The midget's magic headdress flying

From off his captive's brow; so ends

The spell cast on her. 'Fore him lying,

Enmeshed, Ruslan Ludmila sees.

He does not trust his eyes, he is

O'ercome by happiness, and, falling

At his bride's feet, tears up the nets,

And with his tears her limp hands wets,

And kisses them, her dear name calling.

But closed her lips are and her eyes,

And sensuous are the dreams she's seeing

That make her bosom sink and rise.

Fresh sorrow fills our knight's whole beir

What means this sleep? Is she perchance

To be forever in a trance?...

But hark!-a friend's voice.... 'Tis the Finn,i

His councillor, who speaks to him:

"Take heart, O Prince! Upon your way

For home set off with fair Ludmila

And, strength of purpose your heart filling,

To love and honour faithful stay.

God's bolt will strike, defeating malice;

You shall know peace, all will be well.

In Kiev, in Vladimir's palace,

Your bride will wake, free of her spell."