Long years he’s reigned there. None has ever
His castle seen, but through its door
You’ll pass, I know, and end forever
The villain’s rule; by your hand he
Will perish – so ’tis meant to be!…
I may not yield to indiscretion
And say aught more; your destiny
Yourself from this day on you fashion.”
Our knight falls at the elder’s feet
And in delight his hand he kisses.
The world a bright place seems, and sweet
Life is again; forgot distress is…
But then the sudden joyful glow
His face leaves, and it pales and darkens.
“Do not despair but to me harken,”
The old man says. “I know what so
Disquiets you: you are in fear of
The warlock’s love, eh, knight?… Be calm
The truth is, o my youthful hero,
That he can do the maid no harm.
From sky the stars he’ll pluck, I’ll wager,
Or shift the moon that sails on high,
But change the law of time and aging
He cannot, hard as he may try.
Though he lets none her chamber enter
And jealous watch keeps at her door,
He is the impotent tormentor
Of his fair captive, nothing more.
While never far from her, he curses
His lot, and soundly – but, my knight,
’Tis time for you to rest: the earth is
Enclosed in shadow; it is night.”
On soft moss lies Ruslan, a flame
Before him flickering. He yearns
For soothing sleep, he twists and turns
And flings about – but no, ’tis plain
That sleep won’t come. He heaves a sigh
And says: “Nay, Father, sick am I
Of soul and cannot sleep for dreary
And troubled thought. Talk to me, do;
With godly speech, I beg of you,
Relieve my heart: it aches, it’s weary…
I make too bold to ask you this;
You, who befriend me, I importune —
Speak! Tell me, confidant of fortune:
Why came you to this wilderness?”
And with a wistful smile replying
To him, the old man says: “Alas,
I have forgot my land!” Then, sighing:
“A Finn am I by birth. It was
My lot to tend the flocks of neighbours,
And I would take them off to graze
In vales on which no stranger’s gaze
E’er rested. Carefree midst my labours
Did I remain, and only knew,
Besides the woods and streams, what few
Joys poverty could offer to me…
Alas! Ahead dark days were looming.
“Near where I lived, a lovely flower,
One named Nahina, bloomed; of our
Young maids none lovelier than she
Was there. One morn, a bagpipe blowing,
My flocks I grazed where grass was growing
In lush profusion. I could see
A brook wind ’fore me; by it, weaving
