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

There was no doubt! Eugene, alas! 
Tattiana loved as when a lad, 
Both day and night he now must pass 
In love-lorn meditation sad.

Careless of every social rule, 

The crystals of her vestibule 
He daily in his drives drew near 
And like a shadow haunted her.

Enraptured was he if allowed 

To swathe her shoulders in the furs, 
If his hot hand encountered hers, 
Or he dispersed the motley crowd 
Of lackeys in her pathway grouped, 
Or to pick up her kerchief stooped.

XXX

She seemed of him oblivious, 
Despite the anguish of his breast, 
Received him freely at her house, 
At times three words to him addressed 
In company, or simply bowed, 
Or recognized not in the crowd.

No coquetry was there, I vouch— 

Society endures not such! 
Oneguine's cheek grew ashy pale, 
Either she saw not or ignored; 
Oneguine wasted; on my word, 
Already he grew phthisical.

All to the doctors Eugene send, 

And they the waters recommend.

XXXI

He went not—sooner was prepared 
To write his forefathers to warn 
Of his approach; but nothing cared 
Tattiana—thus the sex is born.—

He obstinately will remain, 

Still hopes, endeavours, though in vain. 
Sickness more courage doth command 
Than health, so with a trembling hand 
A love epistle he doth scrawl.

Though correspondence as a rule 

He used to hate—and was no fool— 
Yet suffering emotional 
Had rendered him an invalid; 
But word for word his letter read.

Oneguine's Letter to Tattiana