Part 13 (1/2)

XIV

Ahem! Ahem! My reader n.o.ble, Are all your relatives quite well?

Permit me; is it worth the trouble For your instruction here to tell What I by relatives conceive?

These are your relatives, believe: Those whom we ought to love, caress, With spiritual tenderness; Whom, as the custom is of men, We visit about Christmas Day, Or by a card our homage pay, That until Christmas comes again They may forget that we exist.

And so--G.o.d bless them, if He list.

XV

In this the love of the fair s.e.x Beats that of friends and relatives: In love, although its tempests vex, Our liberty at least survives: Agreed! but then the whirl of fas.h.i.+on, The natural fickleness of pa.s.sion, The torrent of opinion, And the fair s.e.x as light as down!

Besides the hobbies of a spouse Should be respected throughout life By every proper-minded wife, And this the faithful one allows, When in as instant she is lost,-- Satan will jest, and at love's cost.

XVI

Oh! where bestow our love? Whom trust?

Where is he who doth not deceive?

Who words and actions will adjust To standards in which we believe?

Oh! who is not calumnious?

Who labours hard to humour us?

To whom are our misfortunes grief And who is not a tiresome thief?

My venerated reader, oh!

Cease the pursuit of shadows vain, Spare yourself unavailing pain And all your love on self bestow; A worthy object 'tis, and well I know there's none more amiable.

XVII

But from the interview what flowed?

Alas! It is not hard to guess.

The insensate fire of love still glowed Nor discontinued to distress A spirit which for sorrow yearned.

Tattiana more than ever burned With hopeless pa.s.sion: from her bed Sweet slumber winged its way and fled.

Her health, life's sweetness and its bloom, Her smile and maidenly repose, All vanished as an echo goes.

Across her youth a shade had come, As when the tempest's veil is drawn Across the smiling face of dawn.

XVIII

Alas! Tattiana fades away, Grows pale and sinks, but nothing says; Listless is she the livelong day Nor interest in aught betrays.

Shaking with serious air the head, In whispers low the neighbours said: 'Tis time she to the altar went!

But enough! Now, 'tis my intent The imagination to enliven With love which happiness extends; Against my inclination, friends, By sympathy I have been driven.

Forgive me! Such the love I bear My heroine, Tattiana dear.

XIX

Vladimir, hourly more a slave To youthful Olga's beauty bright, Into delicious bondage gave His ardent soul with full delight.

Always together, eventide Found them in darkness side by side, At morn, hand clasped in hand, they rove Around the meadow and the grove.

And what resulted? Drunk with love, But with confused and bashful air, Lenski at intervals would dare, If Olga smilingly approve, Dally with a dishevelled tress Or kiss the border of her dress.

XX

To Olga frequently he would Some nice instructive novel read, Whose author nature understood Better than Chateaubriand did Yet sometimes pages two or three (Nonsense and pure absurdity, For maiden's hearing deemed unfit), He somewhat blus.h.i.+ng would omit: Far from the rest the pair would creep And (elbows on the table) they A game of chess would often play, Buried in meditation deep, Till absently Vladimir took With his own p.a.w.n alas! his rook!