Of Chernomor. And all about him

There's noise and gaiety and shouting.

The very air with his name rings....

Toward the Prince's house on wings

Of hope he flies, and goes inside.

Here now's the silent chamber where

Sleeps fair Ludmila; at her side

Her father stands, deep lines of care

Etched on his face. There's no one near him,

No friend to comfort or to cheer him,

For they have all gone off to war....

Farlaf, alone the call of duty

Denying, at the chamber door

Kept vigil; in him deeply rooted

Was an aversion for things martial,

To calm and comfort he was partial,

And very much so. Seeing who

Was there before, him, he surrendered

To fear; his blood froze; speechless rendered,

On to his knees he fell.... He knew

That retribution was his due,

That he was doomed. Ruslan, however,

The magic ring just then recalled

And, faithful to his love as ever,

Her pale brow touched with it. Behold!-

She oped her eyes and sighed in wonder:

Night had been long, too long.... It seemed

That she was still entranced, still under

The spell of something she had dreamed.

And then her vision cleared-she knew him!

And fell into his arms, and to him

Clung lovingly. By joy made numb,

He saw naught, heard naught, his heart raced.