Part 2 (2/2)

”Within him daily see the the fires of punch and war, Upon the fields of Mars a gallant warrior, A faithful friend to friends, of ladies torturer, But ever the Hussar.”]

XIV

Still thirst fresh draughts of wine compels To cool the cutlets' seething grease, When the sonorous Breguet tells Of the commencement of the piece.

A critic of the stage malicious, A slave of actresses capricious, Oneguine was a citizen Of the domains of the side-scene.

To the theatre he repairs Where each young critic ready stands, Capers applauds with clap of hands, With hisses Cleopatra scares, Moina recalls for this alone That all may hear his voice's tone.

XV

Thou fairy-land! Where formerly Shone pungent Satire's dauntless king, Von Wisine, friend of liberty, And Kniajnine, apt at copying.

The young Simeonova too there With Ozeroff was wont to share Applause, the people's donative.

There our Katenine did revive Corneille's majestic genius, Sarcastic Shakhovskoi brought out His comedies, a noisy rout, There Didelot became glorious, There, there, beneath the side-scene's shade The drama of my youth was played.(10)

[Note 10: _Denis Von Wisine_ (1741-92), a favourite Russian dramatist. His first comedy ”The Brigadier,” procured him the favour of the second Catherine. His best, however, is the ”Minor” (Niedorosl). Prince Potemkin, after witnessing it, summoned the author, and greeted him with the exclamation, ”Die now, Denis!” In fact, his subsequent performances were not of equal merit.

_Jacob Borissovitch Kniajnine_ (1742-91), a clever adapter of French tragedy.

_Simeonova_, a celebrated tragic actress, who retired from the stage in early life and married a Prince Gagarine.

_Ozeroff_, one of the best-known Russian dramatists of the period; he possessed more originality than Kniajnine. ”Oedipus in Athens,” ”Fingal,” ”Demetrius Donskoi,” and ”Polyxena,” are the best known of his tragedies.

_Katenine_ translated Corneille's tragedies into Russian.

_Didelot_, sometime Director of the ballet at the Opera at St. Petersburg.]

XVI

My G.o.ddesses, where are your shades?

Do ye not hear my mournful sighs?

Are ye replaced by other maids Who cannot conjure former joys?

Shall I your chorus hear anew, Russia's Terpsich.o.r.e review Again in her ethereal dance?

Or will my melancholy glance On the dull stage find all things changed, The disenchanted gla.s.s direct Where I can no more recollect?-- A careless looker-on estranged In silence shall I sit and yawn And dream of life's delightful dawn?

XVII

The house is crammed. A thousand lamps On pit, stalls, boxes, brightly blaze, Impatiently the gallery stamps, The curtain now they slowly raise.

Obedient to the magic strings, Brilliant, ethereal, there springs Forth from the crowd of nymphs surrounding Istomina(*) the nimbly-bounding; With one foot resting on its tip Slow circling round its fellow swings And now she skips and now she springs Like down from Aeolus's lip, Now her lithe form she arches o'er And beats with rapid foot the floor.

[Note: Istomina--A celebrated Circa.s.sian dancer of the day, with whom the poet in his extreme youth imagined himself in love.]

XVIII

Shouts of applause! Oneguine pa.s.ses Between the stalls, along the toes; Seated, a curious look with gla.s.ses On unknown female forms he throws.

Free scope he yields unto his glance, Reviews both dress and countenance, With all dissatisfaction shows.

To male acquaintances he bows, And finally he deigns let fall Upon the stage his weary glance.

He yawns, averts his countenance, Exclaiming, ”We must change 'em all!

I long by ballets have been bored, Now Didelot scarce can be endured!”

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