Eugene Oneguine [Onegin]. A Romance of Russian Life in Verse

"To-morrow's dawn will glimmer gray, 
Bright day will then begin to burn, 
But the dark sepulchre I may 
Have entered never to return.

The memory of the bard, a dream, 

Will be absorbed by Lethe's stream; 
Men will forget me, but my urn 
To visit, lovely maid, return, 
O'er my remains to drop a tear, 
And think: here lies who loved me well, 
For consecrate to me he fell 
In the dawn of existence drear.

Maid whom my heart desires alone, 

Approach, approach; I am thine own."

XXI

Thus in a style obscure

and stale,[67]  He wrote ('tis the romantic style, 
Though of romance therein I fail 
To see aught—never mind meanwhile)

And about dawn upon his breast 

His weary head declined at rest, 
For o'er a word to fashion known, 
"Ideal," he had drowsy grown.

But scarce had sleep's soft witchery 

Subdued him, when his neighbour stept 
Into the chamber where he slept 
And wakened him with the loud cry:

"'Tis time to get up! Seven doth strike. 

Oneguine waits on us, 'tis like."

XXII

He was in error; for Eugene 
Was sleeping then a sleep like death; 
The pall of night was growing thin, 
To Lucifer the cock must breathe 
His song, when still he slumbered deep, 
The sun had mounted high his steep, 
A passing snowstorm wreathed away 
With pallid light, but Eugene lay 
Upon his couch insensibly;

Slumber still o'er him lingering flies. 

But finally he oped his eyes 
And turned aside the drapery; 
He gazed upon the clock which showed 
He long should have been on the road.

XXIII

He rings in haste; in haste arrives 
His Frenchman, good Monsieur Guillot, 
Who dressing-gown and slippers gives 
And linen on him doth bestow.

Dressing as quickly as he can, 

Eugene directs the trusty man 
To accompany him and to escort 
A box of terrible import.

Harnessed the rapid sledge arrived: 

He enters: to the mill he drives: 
Descends, the order Guillot gives, 
The fatal tubes Lepage contrived[68] 
To bring behind: the triple steeds 
To two young oaks the coachman leads.

XXIV

Lenski the foeman's apparition 
Leaning against the dam expects, 
Zaretski, village mechanician, 
In the meantime the mill inspects.

Oneguine his excuses says; 

"But," cried Zaretski in amaze, 
"Your second you have left behind!" 
A duellist of classic mind, 
Method was dear unto his heart 
He would not that a man ye slay 
In a lax or informal way, 
But followed the strict rules of art, 
And ancient usages observed 
(For which our praise he hath deserved).

XXV