Part 25 (2/2)

Pray is it he? It is the same.

”And is it long since back he came?

VIII

”Is he the same or grown more wise?

Still doth the misanthrope appear?

He has returned, say in what guise?

What is his latest character?

What doth he act? Is it Melmoth,(80) Philanthropist or patriot, Childe Harold, quaker, devotee, Or other mask donned playfully?

Or a good fellow for the nonce, Like you and me and all the rest?-- But this is my advice, 'twere best Not to behave as he did once-- Society he duped enow.”

”Is he known to you?”--”Yes and No.”

[Note 80: A romance by Maturin.]

IX

Wherefore regarding him express Perverse, unfavourable views?

Is it that human restlessness For ever carps, condemns, pursues?

Is it that ardent souls of flame By recklessness amuse or shame Selfish nonent.i.ties around?

That mind which yearns for s.p.a.ce is bound?

And that too often we receive Professions eagerly for deeds, That cra.s.s stupidity misleads, That we by cant ourselves deceive, That mediocrity alone Without disgust we look upon?

X

Happy he who in youth was young, Happy who timely grew mature, He who life's frosts which early wrung Hath gradually learnt to endure; By visions who was ne'er deranged Nor from the mob polite estranged, At twenty who was prig or swell, At thirty who was married well, At fifty who relief obtained From public and from private ties, Who glory, wealth and dignities Hath tranquilly in turn attained, And unto whom we all allude As to a worthy man and good!

XI

But sad is the reflection made, In vain was youth by us received, That we her constantly betrayed And she at last hath us deceived; That our desires which n.o.blest seemed, The purest of the dreams we dreamed, Have one by one all withered grown Like rotten leaves by Autumn strown-- 'Tis fearful to antic.i.p.ate Nought but of dinners a long row, To look on life as on a show, Eternally to imitate The seemly crowd, partaking nought Its pa.s.sions and its modes of thought.

XII

The b.u.t.t of scandal having been, 'Tis dreadful--ye agree, I hope-- To pa.s.s with reasonable men For a fict.i.tious misanthrope, A visionary mortified, Or monster of Satanic pride, Or e'en the ”Demon” of my strain.(81) Oneguine--take him up again-- In duel having killed his friend And reached, with nought his mind to engage, The twenty-sixth year of his age, Wearied of leisure in the end, Without profession, business, wife, He knew not how to spend his life.

[Note 81: The ”Demon,” a short poem by Pushkin which at its first appearance created some excitement in Russian society. A more appropriate, or at any rate explanatory t.i.tle, would have been the _Tempter_. It is descriptive of the first manifestation of doubt and cynicism in his youthful mind, allegorically as the visits of a ”demon.” Russian society was moved to embody this imaginary demon in the person of a certain friend of Pushkin's.

This must not be confounded with Lermontoff's poem bearing the same t.i.tle upon which Rubinstein's new opera, ”Il Demonio,” is founded.]

XIII

Him a disquietude did seize, A wish from place to place to roam, A very troublesome disease, In some a willing martyrdom.

Abandoned he his country seat, Of woods and fields the calm retreat, Where every day before his eyes A blood-bespattered shade would rise, And aimless journeys did commence-- But still remembrance to him clings, His travels like all other things Inspired but weariness intense; Returning, from his s.h.i.+p amid A ball he fell as Tchatzki did.(82)

[Note 82: Tchatzki, one of the princ.i.p.al characters in Griboyedoff's celebrated comedy ”Woe from Wit” (_Gore ot Ouma_).]

XIV

Behold, the crowd begins to stir, A whisper runs along the hall, A lady draws the hostess near, Behind her a grave general.

Her manners were deliberate, Reserved, but not inanimate, Her eyes no saucy glance address, There was no angling for success.

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