Part 26 (2/2)

In the recesses what hath stirred Of a heart cold and cynical?

Vexation? Vanity? or strove Again the plague of boyhood--love?

XXII

The hours once more Oneguine counts, Impatient waits the close of day, But ten strikes and his sledge he mounts And gallops to her house away.

Trembling he seeks the young princess-- Tattiana finds in loneliness.

Together moments one or two They sat, but conversation's flow Deserted Eugene. He, distraught, Sits by her gloomily, desponds, Scarce to her questions he responds, Full of exasperating thought.

He fixedly upon her stares-- She calm and unconcerned appears.

XXIII

The husband comes and interferes With this unpleasant _tete-a-tete_, With Eugene pranks of former years And jests doth recapitulate.

They talked and laughed. The guests arrived.

The conversation was revived By the coa.r.s.e wit of worldly hate; But round the hostess scintillate Light sallies without c.o.xcombry, Awhile sound conversation seems To banish far unworthy themes And plat.i.tudes and pedantry, And never was the ear affright By liberties or loose or light.

XXIV

And yet the city's flower was there, n.o.blesse and models of the mode, Faces which we meet everywhere And necessary fools allowed.

Behold the dames who once were fine With roses, caps and looks malign; Some marriageable maids behold, Blank, unapproachable and cold.

Lo, the amba.s.sador who speaks Economy political, And with gray hair ambrosial The old man who has had his freaks, Renowned for his ac.u.men, wit, But now ridiculous a bit.

XXV

Behold Sabouroff, whom the age For baseness of the spirit scorns, Saint Priest, who every alb.u.m's page With blunted pencil-point adorns.

Another tribune of the ball Hung like a print against the wall, Pink as Palm Sunday cherubim,(84) Motionless, mute, tight-laced and trim.

The traveller, bird of pa.s.sage he, Stiff, overstarched and insolent, Awakens secret merriment By his embarra.s.sed dignity-- Mute glances interchanged aside Meet punishment for him provide.

[Note 84: On Palm Sunday the Russians carry branches, or used to do so. These branches were adorned with little painted pictures of cherubs with the ruddy complexions of tradition. Hence the comparison.]

XXVI

But my Oneguine the whole eve Within his mind Tattiana bore, Not the young timid maid, believe, Enamoured, simple-minded, poor, But the indifferent princess, Divinity without access Of the imperial Neva's sh.o.r.e.

O Men, how very like ye are To Eve the universal mother, Possession hath no power to please, The serpent to unlawful trees Aye bids ye in some way or other-- Unless forbidden fruit we eat, Our paradise is no more sweet.

XXVII

Ah! how Tattiana was transformed, How thoroughly her part she took!

How soon to habits she conformed Which crus.h.i.+ng dignity must brook!

Who would the maiden innocent In the unmoved, magnificent Autocrat of the drawing-room seek?

And he had made her heart beat quick!

'Twas he whom, amid nightly shades, Whilst Morpheus his approach delays, She mourned and to the moon would raise The languid eye of love-sick maids, Dreaming perchance in weal or woe To end with him her path below.

XXVIII

To Love all ages lowly bend, But the young unpolluted heart His gusts should fertilize, amend, As vernal storms the fields athwart.

Youth freshens beneath Pa.s.sion's showers, Develops and matures its powers, And thus in season the rich field Gay flowers and luscious fruit doth yield.

But at a later, sterile age, The solstice of our earthly years, Mournful Love's deadly trace appears As storms which in chill autumn rage And leave a marsh the fertile ground And devastate the woods around.

XXIX

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