Then yawned and turned his head away:
'It's time for something new,' he muttered,
'I've suffered ballets long enough,
But now Didelot is boring stuff.'
22
While all those cupids, devils, serpents
Upon the stage still romp and roar,
And while the weary band of servants
Still sleeps on furs at carriage door;
And while the people still are tapping,
Still sniffling, coughing, hissing, clapping;
And while the lamps both in and out
Still glitter grandly all about;
And while the horses, bored at tether,
Still fidget, freezing, in the snow,
And coachmen by the fire's glow
Curse masters and beat palms together;
Onegin now has left the scene
And driven home to change and preen.
23
Shall I abandon every scruple
And picture truly with my pen
The room where fashion's model pupil
Is dressed, undressed, and dressed again?
Whatever clever London offers
To those with lavish whims and coffers,
And ships to us by Baltic seas
In trade for tallow and for trees;
Whatever Paris, seeking treasure,
Devises to attract the sight,
Or manufactures for delight,
For luxury, for modish pleasure
All this adorned his dressing room,
Our sage of eighteen summers' bloom.
24
Imported pipes of Turkish amber,
Fine china, bronzesall displayed;
And purely to delight and pamper,
Perfumes in crystal jars arrayed;
Steel files and combs in many guises,
Straight scissors, curved ones, thirty sizes
Of brushes for the modern male
For hair and teeth and fingernail.
Rousseau (permit me this digression)
Could not conceive how solemn Grimm*
Dared clean his nails in front of
The brilliant madcap of confession.
In this case, though, one has to say
That Freedom's Champion went astray.
