Текст книги "Eugene Onegin. A Romance of Russian Life in Verse"

Автор книги: Alexander Pushkin

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And life and fate in turn selected

Were to analysis subjected.

The fervid poet would recite,

Carried away by ecstasy,

Fragments of northern poetry,

Whilst Eugene condescending quite,

Though scarcely following what was said,

Attentive listened to the lad.

XVII

But more the passions occupy

The converse of our hermits twain,

And, heaving a regretful sigh,

An exile from their troublous reign,

Eugene would speak regarding these.

Thrice happy who their agonies

Hath suffered but indifferent grown,

Still happier he who ne'er hath known!

By absence who hath chilled his love,

His hate by slander, and who spends

Existence without wife or friends,

Whom jealous transport cannot move,

And who the rent-roll of his race

Ne'er trusted to the treacherous ace.

XVIII

When, wise at length, we seek repose

Beneath the flag of Quietude,

When Passion's fire no longer glows

And when her violence reviewed—

Each gust of temper, silly word,

Seems so unnatural and absurd:

Reduced with effort unto sense,

We hear with interest intense

The accents wild of other's woes,

They stir the heart as heretofore.

So ancient warriors, battles o'er,

A curious interest disclose

In yarns of youthful troopers gay,

Lost in the hamlet far away.

XIX

And in addition youth is flame

And cannot anything conceal,

Is ever ready to proclaim

The love, hate, sorrow, joy, we feel.

Deeming himself a veteran scarred

In love's campaigns Oneguine heard

With quite a lachrymose expression

The youthful poet's fond confession.

He with an innocence extreme

His inner consciousness laid bare,

And Eugene soon discovered there

The story of his young love's dream,

Where plentifully feelings flow

Which we experienced long ago.

XX

Alas! he loved as in our times

Men love no more, as only the

Mad spirit of the man who rhymes

Is still condemned in love to be;

One image occupied his mind,

Constant affection intertwined

And an habitual sense of pain;

And distance interposed in vain,

Nor years of separation all

Nor homage which the Muse demands

Nor beauties of far distant lands

Nor study, banquet, rout nor ball

His constant soul could ever tire,

Which glowed with virginal desire.

XXI

When but a boy he Olga loved

Unknown as yet the aching heart,

He witnessed tenderly and moved

Her girlish gaiety and sport.

Beneath the sheltering oak tree's shade

He with his little maiden played,

Whilst the fond parents, friends thro' life,

Dreamed in the future man and wife.

And full of innocent delight,

As in a thicket's humble shade,

Beneath her parents' eyes the maid

Grew like a lily pure and white,

Unseen in thick and tangled grass

By bee and butterfly which pass.

XXII

'Twas she who first within his breast

Poetic transport did infuse,

And thoughts of Olga first impressed

A mournful temper on his Muse.

Farewell! thou golden days of love!

'Twas then he loved the tangled grove

And solitude and calm delight,

The moon, the stars, and shining night—

The moon, the lamp of heaven above,

To whom we used to consecrate

A promenade in twilight late

With tears which secret sufferers love—

But now in her effulgence pale

A substitute for lamps we hail!

XXIII

Obedient she had ever been

And modest, cheerful as the morn,

As a poetic life serene,

Sweet as the kiss of lovers sworn.

Her eyes were of cerulean blue,

Her locks were of a golden hue,

Her movements, voice and figure slight,

All about Olga—to a light

Romance of love I pray refer,

You'll find her portrait there, I vouch;

I formerly admired her much

But finally grew bored by her.

But with her elder sister I

Must now my stanzas occupy.

XXIV

Tattiana was her appellation.

We are the first who such a name

In pages of a love narration

With such a perversity proclaim.

But wherefore not?—'Tis pleasant, nice,

Euphonious, though I know a spice

It carries of antiquity

And of the attic. Honestly,

We must admit but little taste

Doth in us or our names appear(26)

(I speak not of our poems here),

And education runs to waste,

Endowing us from out her store

With affectation,—nothing more.

[Note 26: The Russian annotator remarks: "The most euphonious Greek names, e.g. Agathon, Philotas, Theodora, Thekla, etc., are used amongst us by the lower classes only."]

XXV

And so Tattiana was her name,

Nor by her sister's brilliancy

Nor by her beauty she became

The cynosure of every eye.

Shy, silent did the maid appear

As in the timid forest deer,

Even beneath her parents' roof

Stood as estranged from all aloof,

Nearest and dearest knew not how

To fawn upon and love express;

A child devoid of childishness

To romp and play she ne'er would go:

Oft staring through the window pane

Would she in silence long remain.

XXVI

Contemplativeness, her delight,

E'en from her cradle's earliest dream,

Adorned with many a vision bright

Of rural life the sluggish stream;

Ne'er touched her fingers indolent

The needle nor, o'er framework bent,

Would she the canvas tight enrich

With gay design and silken stitch.

Desire to rule ye may observe

When the obedient doll in sport

An infant maiden doth exhort

Polite demeanour to preserve,

Gravely repeating to another

Recent instructions of its mother.

XXVII

But Tania ne'er displayed a passion

For dolls, e'en from her earliest years,

And gossip of the town and fashion

She ne'er repeated unto hers.

Strange unto her each childish game,

But when the winter season came

And dark and drear the evenings were,

Terrible tales she loved to hear.

And when for Olga nurse arrayed

In the broad meadow a gay rout,

All the young people round about,

At prisoner's base she never played.

Their noisy laugh her soul annoyed,

Their giddy sports she ne'er enjoyed.

XXVIII

She loved upon the balcony

To anticipate the break of day,

When on the pallid eastern sky

The starry beacons fade away,

The horizon luminous doth grow,

Morning's forerunners, breezes blow

And gradually day unfolds.

In winter, when Night longer holds

A hemisphere beneath her sway,

Longer the East inert reclines

Beneath the moon which dimly shines,

And calmly sleeps the hours away,

At the same hour she oped her eyes

And would by candlelight arise.

XXIX

Romances pleased her from the first,

Her all in all did constitute;

In love adventures she was versed,

Rousseau and Richardson to boot.

Not a bad fellow was her father

Though superannuated rather;

In books he saw nought to condemn

But, as he never opened them,

Viewed them with not a little scorn,

And gave himself but little pain

His daughter's book to ascertain

Which 'neath her pillow lay till morn.

His wife was also mad upon

The works of Mr. Richardson.

XXX

She was thus fond of Richardson

Not that she had his works perused,

Or that adoring Grandison

That rascal Lovelace she abused;

But that Princess Pauline of old,

Her Moscow cousin, often told

The tale of these romantic men;

Her husband was a bridegroom then,

And she despite herself would waste

Sighs on another than her lord

Whose qualities appeared to afford

More satisfaction to her taste.

Her Grandison was in the Guard,

A noted fop who gambled hard.

XXXI

Like his, her dress was always nice,

The height of fashion, fitting tight,

But contrary to her advice

The girl in marriage they unite.

Then, her distraction to allay,

The bridegroom sage without delay

Removed her to his country seat,

Where God alone knows whom she met.

She struggled hard at first thus pent,

Night separated from her spouse,

Then became busy with the house,

First reconciled and then content;

Habit was given us in distress

By Heaven in lieu of happiness.

XXXII

Habit alleviates the grief

Inseparable from our lot;

This great discovery relief

And consolation soon begot.

And then she soon 'twixt work and leisure

Found out the secret how at pleasure

To dominate her worthy lord,

And harmony was soon restored.

The workpeople she superintended,

Mushrooms for winter salted down,

Kept the accounts, shaved many a crown,(*)

The bath on Saturdays attended,

When angry beat her maids, I grieve,

And all without her husband's leave.

[Note: The serfs destined for military service used to have a portion of their heads shaved as a distinctive mark.]

XXXIII

In her friends' albums, time had been,

With blood instead of ink she scrawled,

Baptized Prascovia Pauline,

And in her conversation drawled.

She wore her corset tightly bound,

The Russian N with nasal sound

She would pronounce a la Francaise;

But soon she altered all her ways,

Corset and album and Pauline,

Her sentimental verses all,

She soon forgot, began to call

Akulka who was once Celine,

And had with waddling in the end

Her caps and night-dresses to mend.

XXXIV

As for her spouse he loved her dearly,

In her affairs ne'er interfered,

Entrusted all to her sincerely,

In dressing-gown at meals appeared.

Existence calmly sped along,

And oft at eventide a throng

Of friends unceremonious would

Assemble from the neighbourhood:

They growl a bit—they scandalise—

They crack a feeble joke and smile—

Thus the time passes and meanwhile

Olga the tea must supervise—

'Tis time for supper, now for bed,

And soon the friendly troop hath fled.

XXXV

They in a peaceful life preserved

Customs by ages sanctified,

Strictly the Carnival observed,

Ate Russian pancakes at Shrovetide,

Twice in the year to fast were bound,

Of whirligigs were very fond,

Of Christmas carols, song and dance;

When people with long countenance

On Trinity Sunday yawned at prayer,

Three tears they dropt with humble mein

Upon a bunch of lovage green;

Kvassneedful was to them as air;

On guests their servants used to wait

By rank as settled by the State.(27)

[Note 27: The foregoing stanza requires explanation. Russian pancakes or "blinni" are consumed vigorously by the lower orders during the Carnival. At other times it is difficult to procure them, at any rate in the large towns.

The Russian peasants are childishly fond of whirligigs, which are also much in vogue during the Carnival.

"Christmas Carols" is not an exact equivalent for the Russian phrase. "Podbliudni pessni," are literally "dish songs," or songs used with dishes (of water) during the "sviatki" or Holy Nights, which extend from Christmas to Twelfth Night, for purposes of divination. Reference will again be made to this superstitious practice, which is not confined to Russia. See Note 52.

"Song and dance," the well-known "khorovod," in which the dance proceeds to vocal music.

"Lovage," the Levisticum officinalis, is a hardy plant growing very far north, though an inhabitant of our own kitchen gardens. The passage containing the reference to the three tears and Trinity Sunday was at first deemed irreligious by the Russian censors, and consequently expunged.

Kvassis of various sorts: there is the common kvassof fermented rye used by the peasantry, and the more expensive kvassof the restaurants, iced and flavoured with various fruits.

The final two lines refer to the "Tchin," or Russian social hierarchy. There are fourteen grades in the Tchin assigning relative rank and precedence to the members of the various departments of the State, civil, military, naval, court, scientific and educational. The military and naval grades from the 14th up to the 7th confer personal nobility only, whilst above the 7th hereditary rank is acquired. In the remaining departments, civil or otherwise, personal nobility is only attained with the 9th grade, hereditary with the 4th.]

XXXVI

Thus age approached, the common doom,

And death before the husband wide

Opened the portals of the tomb

And a new diadem supplied.(28)

Just before dinner-time he slept,

By neighbouring families bewept,

By children and by faithful wife

With deeper woe than others' grief.

He was an honest gentleman,

And where at last his bones repose

The epitaph on marble shows:

Demetrius Larine, sinful man,

Servant of God and brigadier,

Enjoyeth peaceful slumber here.

[Note 28: A play upon the word "venetz," crown, which also signifies a nimbus or glory, and is the symbol of marriage from the fact of two gilt crowns being held over the heads of the bride and bridegroom during the ceremony. The literal meaning of the passage is therefore: his earthly marriage was dissolved and a heavenly one was contracted.]

XXXVII

To his Penates now returned,

Vladimir Lenski visited

His neighbour's lowly tomb and mourned

Above the ashes of the dead.

There long time sad at heart he stayed:

"Poor Yorick," mournfully he said,

"How often in thine arms I lay;

How with thy medal I would play,

The Medal Otchakoff conferred!(29)

To me he would his Olga give,

Would whisper: shall I so long live?"—

And by a genuine sorrow stirred,

Lenski his pencil-case took out

And an elegiac poem wrote.

[Note 29: The fortress of Otchakoff was taken by storm on the 18th December 1788 by a Russian army under Prince Potemkin. Thirty thousand Turks are said to have perished during the assault and ensuing massacre.]

XXXVIII

Likewise an epitaph with tears

He writes upon his parents' tomb,

And thus ancestral dust reveres.

Oh! on the fields of life how bloom

Harvests of souls unceasingly

By Providence's dark decree!

They blossom, ripen and they fall

And others rise ephemeral!

Thus our light race grows up and lives,

A moment effervescing stirs,

Then seeks ancestral sepulchres,

The appointed hour arrives, arrives!

And our successors soon shall drive

Us from the world wherein we live.

XXXIX

Meantime, drink deeply of the flow

Of frivolous existence, friends;

Its insignificance I know

And care but little for its ends.

To dreams I long have closed mine eyes,

Yet sometimes banished hopes will rise

And agitate my heart again;

And thus it is 'twould cause me pain

Without the faintest trace to leave

This world. I do not praise desire,

Yet still apparently aspire

My mournful fate in verse to weave,

That like a friendly voice its tone

Rescue me from oblivion.

XL

Perchance some heart 'twill agitate,

And then the stanzas of my theme

Will not, preserved by kindly Fate,

Perish absorbed by Lethe's stream.

Then it may be, O flattering tale,

Some future ignoramus shall

My famous portrait indicate

And cry: he was a poet great!

My gratitude do not disdain,

Admirer of the peaceful Muse,

Whose memory doth not refuse

My light productions to retain,

Whose hands indulgently caress

The bays of age and helplessness.

End of Canto the Second.

CANTO THE THIRD

The Country Damsel

'Elle etait fille, elle etait amoureuse'—Malfilatre

Canto The Third

[Note: Odessa and Mikhailovskoe, 1824.]

I

"Whither away? Deuce take the bard!"—

"Good-bye, Oneguine, I must go."—

"I won't detain you; but 'tis hard

To guess how you the eve pull through."—

"At Larina's."—"Hem, that is queer!

Pray is it not a tough affair

Thus to assassinate the eve?"—

"Not at all."—"That I can't conceive!

'Tis something of this sort I deem.

In the first place, say, am I right?

A Russian household simple quite,

Who welcome guests with zeal extreme,

Preserves and an eternal prattle

About the rain and flax and cattle."—

II

"No misery I see in that"—

"Boredom, my friend, behold the ill—"

"Your fashionable world I hate,

Domestic life attracts me still,

Where—"—"What! another eclogue spin?

For God's sake, Lenski, don't begin!

What! really going? 'Tis too bad!

But Lenski, I should be so glad

Would you to me this Phyllis show,

Fair source of every fine idea,

Verses and tears et cetera.

Present me."—"You are joking."—"No."—

"Delighted."—"When?"—"This very night.

They will receive us with delight."

III

Whilst homeward by the nearest route

Our heroes at full gallop sped,

Can we not stealthily make out

What they in conversation said?—

"How now, Oneguine, yawning still?"—

"'Tis habit, Lenski."—"Is your ill

More troublesome than usual?"—"No!

How dark the night is getting though!

Hallo, Andriushka, onward race!

The drive becomes monotonous—

Well! Larina appears to us

An ancient lady full of grace.—

That bilberry wine, I'm sore afraid,

The deuce with my inside has played."

IV

"Say, of the two which was Tattiana?"

"She who with melancholy face

And silent as the maid Svetlana(30)

Hard by the window took her place."—

"The younger, you're in love with her!"

"Well!"—"I the elder should prefer,

Were I like you a bard by trade—

In Olga's face no life's displayed.

'Tis a Madonna of Vandyk,

An oval countenance and pink,

Yon silly moon upon the brink

Of the horizon she is like!"—

Vladimir something curtly said

Nor further comment that night made.

[Note 30: "Svetlana," a short poem by Joukovski, upon which his fame mainly rests. Joukovski was an unblushing plagiarist. Many eminent English poets have been laid under contribution by him, often without going through the form of acknowledging the source of inspiration. Even the poem in question cannot be pronounced entirely original, though its intrinsic beauty is unquestionable. It undoubtedly owes its origin to Burger's poem "Leonora," which has found so many English translators. Not content with a single development of Burger's ghastly production the Russian poet has directly paraphrased "Leonora" under its own title, and also written a poem "Liudmila" in imitation of it. The principal outlines of these three poems are as follows: A maiden loses her lover in the wars; she murmurs at Providence and is vainly reproved for such blasphemy by her mother. Providence at length loses patience and sends her lover's spirit, to all appearances as if in the flesh, who induces the unfortunate maiden to elope. Instead of riding to a church or bridal chamber the unpleasant bridegroom resorts to the graveyard and repairs to his own grave, from which he has recently issued to execute his errand. It is a repulsive subject. "Svetlana," however, is more agreeable than its prototype "Leonora," inasmuch as the whole catastrophe turns out a dream brought on by "sorcery," during the "sviatki" or Holy Nights (see Canto V. st. x), and the dreamer awakes to hear the tinkling of her lover's sledge approaching. "Svetlana" has been translated by Sir John Bowring.]

V

Meantime Oneguine's apparition

At Larina's abode produced

Quite a sensation; the position

To all good neighbours' sport conduced.

Endless conjectures all propound

And secretly their views expound.

What jokes and guesses now abound,

A beau is for Tattiana found!

In fact, some people were assured

The wedding-day had been arranged,

But the date subsequently changed

Till proper rings could be procured.

On Lenski's matrimonial fate

They long ago had held debate.

VI

Of course Tattiana was annoyed

By such allusions scandalous,

Yet was her inmost soul o'erjoyed

With satisfaction marvellous,

As in her heart the thought sank home,

I am in love, my hour hath come!

Thus in the earth the seed expands

Obedient to warm Spring's commands.

Long time her young imagination

By indolence and languor fired

The fated nutriment desired;

And long internal agitation

Had filled her youthful breast with gloom,

She waited for—I don't know whom!

VII

The fatal hour had come at last—

She oped her eyes and cried: 'tis he!

Alas! for now before her passed

The same warm vision constantly;

Now all things round about repeat

Ceaselessly to the maiden sweet

His name: the tenderness of home

Tiresome unto her hath become

And the kind-hearted servitors:

Immersed in melancholy thought,

She hears of conversation nought

And hated casual visitors,

Their coming which no man expects,

And stay whose length none recollects.

VIII

Now with what eager interest

She the delicious novel reads,

With what avidity and zest

She drinks in those seductive deeds!

All the creations which below

From happy inspiration flow,

The swain of Julia Wolmar,

Malek Adel and De Linar,(31)

Werther, rebellious martyr bold,

And that unrivalled paragon,

The sleep-compelling Grandison,

Our tender dreamer had enrolled

A single being: 'twas in fine

No other than Oneguine mine.

[Note 31: The heroes of two romances much in vogue in Pushkin's time: the former by Madame Cottin, the latter by the famous Madame Krudener. The frequent mention in the course of this poem of romances once enjoying a European celebrity but now consigned to oblivion, will impress the reader with the transitory nature of merely mediocre literary reputation. One has now to search for the very names of most of the popular authors of Pushkin's day and rummage biographical dictionaries for the dates of their births and deaths. Yet the poet's prime was but fifty years ago, and had he lived to a ripe old age he would have been amongst us still. He was four years younger than the late Mr. Thomas Carlyle. The decadence of Richardson's popularity amongst his countrymen is a fact familiar to all.]

IX

Dreaming herself the heroine

Of the romances she preferred,

Clarissa, Julia, Delphine,—(32)

Tattiana through the forest erred,

And the bad book accompanies.

Upon those pages she descries

Her passion's faithful counterpart,

Fruit of the yearnings of the heart.

She heaves a sigh and deep intent

On raptures, sorrows not her own,

She murmurs in an undertone

A letter for her hero meant:

That hero, though his merit shone,

Was certainly no Grandison.

[Note 32: Referring to Richardson's "Clarissa Harlowe," "La

Nouvelle Heloise," and Madame de Stael's "Delphine."]

X

Alas! my friends, the years flit by

And after them at headlong pace

The evanescent fashions fly

In motley and amusing chase.

The world is ever altering!

Farthingales, patches, were the thing,

And courtier, fop, and usurer

Would once in powdered wig appear;

Time was, the poet's tender quill

In hopes of everlasting fame

A finished madrigal would frame

Or couplets more ingenious still;

Time was, a valiant general might

Serve who could neither read nor write.

XI

Time was, in style magniloquent

Authors replete with sacred fire

Their heroes used to represent

All that perfection could desire;

Ever by adverse fate oppressed,

Their idols they were wont to invest

With intellect, a taste refined,

And handsome countenance combined,

A heart wherein pure passion burnt;

The excited hero in a trice

Was ready for self-sacrifice,

And in the final tome we learnt,

Vice had due punishment awarded,

Virtue was with a bride rewarded.

XII

But now our minds are mystified

And Virtue acts as a narcotic,

Vice in romance is glorified

And triumphs in career erotic.

The monsters of the British Muse

Deprive our schoolgirls of repose,

The idols of their adoration

A Vampire fond of meditation,

Or Melmoth, gloomy wanderer he,

The Eternal Jew or the Corsair

Or the mysterious Sbogar.(33)

Byron's capricious phantasy

Could in romantic mantle drape

E'en hopeless egoism's dark shape.

[Note 33: "Melmoth," a romance by Maturin, and "Jean Sbogar," by

Ch. Nodier. "The Vampire," a tale published in 1819, was

erroneously attributed to Lord Byron. "Salathiel; the Eternal

Jew," a romance by Geo. Croly.]

XIII

My friends, what means this odd digression?

May be that I by heaven's decrees

Shall abdicate the bard's profession,

And shall adopt some new caprice.

Thus having braved Apollo's rage

With humble prose I'll fill my page

And a romance in ancient style

Shall my declining years beguile;

Nor shall my pen paint terribly

The torment born of crime unseen,

But shall depict the touching scene

Of Russian domesticity;

I will descant on love's sweet dream,

The olden time shall be my theme.

XIV

Old people's simple conversations

My unpretending page shall fill,

Their offspring's innocent flirtations

By the old lime-tree or the rill,

Their Jealousy and separation

And tears of reconciliation:

Fresh cause of quarrel then I'll find,

But finally in wedlock bind.

The passionate speeches I'll repeat,

Accents of rapture or despair

I uttered to my lady fair

Long ago, prostrate at her feet.

Then they came easily enow,

My tongue is somewhat rusty now.

XV

Tattiana! sweet Tattiana, see!

What bitter tears with thee I shed!

Thou hast resigned thy destiny

Unto a ruthless tyrant dread.

Thou'lt suffer, dearest, but before,

Hope with her fascinating power

To dire contentment shall give birth

And thou shalt taste the joys of earth.

Thou'lt quaff love's sweet envenomed stream,

Fantastic images shall swarm

In thy imagination warm,

Of happy meetings thou shalt dream,

And wheresoe'er thy footsteps err,

Confront thy fated torturer!

XVI

Love's pangs Tattiana agonize.

She seeks the garden in her need—

Sudden she stops, casts down her eyes

And cares not farther to proceed;

Her bosom heaves whilst crimson hues

With sudden flush her cheeks suffuse,

Barely to draw her breath she seems,

Her eye with fire unwonted gleams.

And now 'tis night, the guardian moon

Sails her allotted course on high,

And from the misty woodland nigh

The nightingale trills forth her tune;

Restless Tattiana sleepless lay

And thus unto her nurse did say:

XVII

"Nurse, 'tis so close I cannot rest.

Open the window—sit by me."

"What ails thee, dear?"—"I feel depressed.

Relate some ancient history."

"But which, my dear?—In days of yore

Within my memory I bore

Many an ancient legend which

In monsters and fair dames was rich;

But now my mind is desolate,

What once I knew is clean forgot—

Alas! how wretched now my lot!"

"But tell me, nurse, can you relate

The days which to your youth belong?

Were you in love when you were young?"—

XVIII

"Alack! Tattiana," she replied,

"We never loved in days of old,

My mother-in-law who lately died(34)

Had killed me had the like been told."

"How came you then to wed a man?"—

"Why, as God ordered! My Ivan

Was younger than myself, my light,

For I myself was thirteen quite;(35)

The matchmaker a fortnight sped,

Her suit before my parents pressing:

At last my father gave his blessing,

And bitter tears of fright I shed.

Weeping they loosed my tresses long(36)

And led me off to church with song."

[Note 34: A young married couple amongst Russian peasants reside in the house of the bridegroom's father till the "tiaglo," or family circle is broken up by his death.]

[Note 35: Marriages amongst Russian serfs used formerly to take place at ridiculously early ages. Haxthausen asserts that strong hearty peasant women were to be seen at work in the fields with their infant husbands in their arms. The inducement lay in the fact that the "tiaglo" (see previous note) received an additional lot of the communal land for every male added to its number, though this could have formed an inducement in the southern and fertile provinces of Russia only, as it is believed that agriculture in the north is so unremunerative that land has often to be forced upon the peasants, in order that the taxes, for which the whole Commune is responsible to Government, may be paid. The abuse of early marriages was regulated by Tsar Nicholas.]

[Note 36: Courtships were not unfrequently carried on in the larger villages, which alone could support such an individual, by means of a "svakha," or matchmaker. In Russia unmarried girls wear their hair in a single long plait or tail, "kossa;" the married women, on the other hand, in two, which are twisted into the head-gear.]

XIX

"Then amongst strangers I was left—

But I perceive thou dost not heed—"

"Alas! dear nurse, my heart is cleft,

Mortally sick I am indeed.

Behold, my sobs I scarce restrain—"

"My darling child, thou art in pain.—

The Lord deliver her and save!

Tell me at once what wilt thou have?

I'll sprinkle thee with holy water.—

How thy hands burn!"—"Dear nurse, I'm well.

I am—in love—you know—don't tell!"

"The Lord be with thee, O my daughter!"—

And the old nurse a brief prayer said

And crossed with trembling hand the maid.

XX

"I am in love," her whispers tell

The aged woman in her woe:

"My heart's delight, thou art not well."—

"I am in love, nurse! leave me now."

Behold! the moon was shining bright

And showed with an uncertain light

Tattiana's beauty, pale with care,

Her tears and her dishevelled hair;

And on the footstool sitting down

Beside our youthful heroine fair,

A kerchief round her silver hair

The aged nurse in ample gown,(37)

Whilst all creation seemed to dream

Enchanted by the moon's pale beam.

[Note 37: It is thus that I am compelled to render a female garment not known, so far as I am aware, to Western Europe. It is called by the natives "doushegreika," that is to say, "warmer of the soul"—in French, chaufferette de l'ame. It is a species of thick pelisse worn over the "sarafan," or gown.]

XXI

But borne in spirit far away

Tattiana gazes on the moon,

And starting suddenly doth say:

"Nurse, leave me. I would be alone.

Pen, paper bring: the table too

Draw near. I soon to sleep shall go—

Good-night." Behold! she is alone!

'Tis silent—on her shines the moon—

Upon her elbow she reclines,

And Eugene ever in her soul

Indites an inconsiderate scroll

Wherein love innocently pines.

Now it is ready to be sent—

For whom, Tattiana, is it meant?

XXII

I have known beauties cold and raw

As Winter in their purity,

Striking the intellect with awe

By dull insensibility,

And I admired their common sense

And natural benevolence,

But, I acknowledge, from them fled;

For on their brows I trembling read

The inscription o'er the gates of Hell

"Abandon hope for ever here!"(38)

Love to inspire doth woe appear

To such—delightful to repel.

Perchance upon the Neva e'en

Similar dames ye may have seen.

[Note 38: A Russian annotator complains that the poet has mutilated Dante's famous line.]

XXIII

Amid submissive herds of men

Virgins miraculous I see,

Who selfishly unmoved remain

Alike by sighs and flattery.

But what astonished do I find

When harsh demeanour hath consigned

A timid love to banishment?—

On fresh allurements they are bent,

At least by show of sympathy;

At least their accents and their words

Appear attuned to softer chords;

And then with blind credulity

The youthful lover once again

Pursues phantasmagoria vain.

XXIV

Why is Tattiana guiltier deemed?—

Because in singleness of thought

She never of deception dreamed

But trusted the ideal she wrought?—

Because her passion wanted art,

Obeyed the impulses of heart?—

Because she was so innocent,

That Heaven her character had blent

With an imagination wild,

With intellect and strong volition

And a determined disposition,

An ardent heart and yet so mild?—

Doth love's incautiousness in her

So irremissible appear?

XXV

O ye whom tender love hath pained

Without the ken of parents both,

Whose hearts responsive have remained