At this time almost understood.

How like a poet was my chum

When, sitting by his fire alone

Whilst cheerily the embers shone,

He 'Benedetta' used to hum,

Or 'Idol mio,' and in the grate

Would lose his slippers or gazette.

XXXVIII

Time flies! a genial air abroad,

Winter resigned her empire white,

Oneguine ne'er as poet showed

Nor died nor lost his senses quite.

Spring cheered him up, and he resigned

His chambers close wherein confined

He marmot-like did hibernate,

His double sashes and his grate,

And sallied forth one brilliant morn—

Along the Neva's bank he sleighs,

On the blue blocks of ice the rays

Of the sun glisten; muddy, worn,

The snow upon the streets doth melt—

Whither along them doth he pelt?

XXXIX

Oneguine whither gallops? Ye

Have guessed already. Yes, quite so!

Unto his own Tattiana he,

Incorrigible rogue, doth go.

Her house he enters, ghastly white,

The vestibule finds empty quite—

He enters the saloon. 'Tis blank!

A door he opens. But why shrank

He back as from a sudden blow?—

Alone the princess sitteth there,

Pallid and with dishevelled hair,

Gazing upon a note below.

Her tears flow plentifully and

Her cheek reclines upon her hand.

XL

Oh! who her speechless agonies

Could not in that brief moment guess!

Who now could fail to recognize

Tattiana in the young princess!

Tortured by pangs of wild regret,

Eugene fell prostrate at her feet—

She starts, nor doth a word express,

But gazes on Oneguine's face

Without amaze or wrath displayed:

His sunken eye and aspect faint,

Imploring looks and mute complaint

She comprehends. The simple maid

Добавить отзыв
ВСЕ ОТЗЫВЫ О КНИГЕ В ИЗБРАННОЕ

0

Вы можете отметить интересные вам фрагменты текста, которые будут доступны по уникальной ссылке в адресной строке браузера.

Отметить Добавить цитату