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

"Then, in the country, is't not true? 
And far removed from rumour vain; 
I did not please you. Why pursue 
Me now, inflict upon me pain?—

Wherefore am I your quarry held?— 

Is it that I am now compelled 
To move in fashionable life, 
That I am rich, a prince's wife?—

Because my lord, in battles maimed, 

Is petted by the Emperor?— 
That my dishonour would ensure 
A notoriety proclaimed, 
And in society might shed 
A bastard fame prohibited?

XLIV

"I weep. And if within your breast 
My image hath not disappeared, 
Know that your sarcasm ill-suppressed, 
Your conversation cold and hard, 
If the choice in my power were, 
To lawless love I should prefer— 
And to these letters and these tears. 
For visions of my childish years 
Then ye were barely generous, 
Age immature averse to cheat— 
But now—what brings you to my feet?— 
How mean, how pusillanimous! 
A prudent man like you and brave 
To shallow sentiment a slave!

XLV

"Oneguine, all this sumptuousness, 
The gilding of life's vanities, 
In the world's vortex my success, 
My splendid house and gaieties—

What are they? Gladly would I yield 

This life in masquerade concealed, 
This glitter, riot, emptiness, 
For my wild garden and bookcase,—

Yes! for our unpretending home, 

Oneguine—the beloved place 
Where the first time I saw your face,— 
Or for the solitary tomb 
Wherein my poor old nurse doth lie 
Beneath a cross and shrubbery.

XLVI

"'Twas possible then, happiness— 
Nay, near—but destiny decreed— 
My lot is fixed—with thoughtlessness 
It may be that I did proceed—

With bitter tears my mother prayed, 

And for Tattiana, mournful maid, 
Indifferent was her future fate. 
I married—now, I supplicate—

For ever your Tattiana leave. 

Your heart possesses, I know well, 
Honour and pride inflexible. 
I love you—to what end deceive?—

But I am now another's bride— 

For ever faithful will abide."

XLVII

She rose—departed. But Eugene 
Stood as if struck by lightning fire. 
What a storm of emotions keen 
Raged round him and of balked desire!

And hark! the clank of spurs is heard 

And Tania's husband soon appeared.— 
But now our hero we must leave 
Just at a moment which I grieve 
Must be pronounced unfortunate— 
For long—for ever. To be sure 
Together we have wandered o'er 
The world enough. Congratulate 
Each other as the shore we climb! 
Hurrah! it long ago was time!

XLVIII