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

"My uncle's goodness is extreme, 
If seriously he hath disease; 
He hath acquired the world's esteem 
And nothing more important sees;

A paragon of virtue he! 

But what a nuisance it will be, 
Chained to his bedside night and day 
Without a chance to slip away.

Ye need dissimulation base 

A dying man with art to soothe, 
Beneath his head the pillow smooth, 
And physic bring with mournful face, 
To sigh and meditate alone: 
When will the devil take his own!"

II

Thus mused a madcap young, who drove 
Through clouds of dust at postal pace, 
By the decree of Mighty Jove, 
Inheritor of all his race.

Friends of Liudmila and Ruslan,[1]

 Let me present ye to the man, 
Who without more prevarication 
The hero is of my narration!

Oneguine, O my gentle readers, 

Was born beside the Neva, where 
It may be ye were born, or there 
Have shone as one of fashion's leaders.

I also wandered there of old, 

But cannot stand the northern cold.[2]

III

Having performed his service truly, 
Deep into debt his father ran; 
Three balls a year he gave ye duly, 
At last became a ruined man.

But Eugene was by fate preserved, 

For first "madame" his wants observed, 
And then "monsieur" supplied her place;[3] 
The boy was wild but full of grace.

"Monsieur l'Abbe," a starving Gaul, 

Fearing his pupil to annoy, 
Instructed jestingly the boy, 
Morality taught scarce at all;

Gently for pranks he would reprove 

And in the Summer Garden rove.

IV

When youth's rebellious hour drew near 
And my Eugene the path must trace— 
The path of hope and tender fear— 
Monsieur clean out of doors they chase.

Lo! my Oneguine free as air, 

Cropped in the latest style his hair, 
Dressed like a London dandy he 
The giddy world at last shall see.

He wrote and spoke, so all allowed, 

In the French language perfectly, 
Danced the mazurka gracefully, 
Without the least constraint he bowed.

What more's required? The world replies, 

He is a charming youth and wise.

V

We all of us of education 
A something somehow have obtained, 
Thus, praised be God! a reputation 
With us is easily attained.

Oneguine was—so many deemed 

[Unerring critics self-esteemed], 
Pedantic although scholar like, 
In truth he had the happy trick

Without constraint in conversation 

Of touching lightly every theme. 
Silent, oracular ye'd see him 
Amid a serious disputation,

Then suddenly discharge a joke 

The ladies' laughter to provoke.

VI