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

But I abandoned their array, 
And fled afar—she followed me. 
How oft the kindly Muse away 
Hath whiled the road's monotony, 
Entranced me by some mystic tale. 
How oft beneath the moonbeams pale 
Like Leonora did she ride[82]
With me Caucasian rocks beside!

 

How oft to the Crimean shore 

She led me through nocturnal mist 
Unto the sounding sea to list, 
Where Nereids murmur evermore, 
And where the billows hoarsely raise 
To God eternal hymns of praise.

V

Then, the far capital forgot, 
Its splendour and its blandishments, 
In poor Moldavia cast her lot, 
She visited the humble tents 
Of migratory gipsy hordes— 
And wild among them grew her words— 
Our godlike tongue she could exchange 
For savage speech, uncouth and strange, 
And ditties of the steppe she loved. 
But suddenly all changed around! 
Lo! in my garden was she found 
And as a country damsel roved, 
A pensive sorrow in her glance 
And in her hand a French romance.

VI

Now for the first time I my Muse 
Lead into good society, 
Her steppe-like beauties I peruse 
With jealous fear, anxiety.

Through dense aristocratic rows 

Of diplomats and warlike beaux 
And supercilious dames she glides, 
Sits down and gazes on all sides— 
Amazed at the confusing crowd, 
Variety of speech and vests, 
Deliberate approach of guests 
Who to the youthful hostess bowed, 
And the dark fringe of men, like frames 
Enclosing pictures of fair dames.

VII

Assemblies oligarchical 
Please her by their decorum fixed, 
The rigour of cold pride and all 
Titles and ages intermixed.

But who in that choice company 

With clouded brow stands silently? 
Unknown to all he doth appear, 
A vision desolate and drear 
Doth seem to him the festal scene. 
Doth his brow wretchedness declare 
Or suffering pride? Why is he there? 
Who may he be? Is it Eugene?

Pray is it he? It is the same. 

"And is it long since back he came?

VIII

"Is he the same or grown more wise? 
Still doth the misanthrope appear? 
He has returned, say in what guise? 
What is his latest character?

What doth he act? Is it Melmoth,[83]

 Philanthropist or patriot, 
Childe Harold, quaker, devotee, 
Or other mask donned playfully?

Or a good fellow for the nonce, 

Like you and me and all the rest?— 
But this is my advice, 'twere best 
Not to behave as he did once— 
Society he duped enow." 
"Is he known to you?"—"Yes and No."

IX