Canto the First |
Canto The Second |
Canto The Third ‘Elle était fille, elle était amoureuse’—Malfilatre |
Canto The Second |
Canto The Third ‘Elle était fille, elle était amoureuse’—Malfilatre |
The God of Love is after you! |
’tis he! |
Or torturer malevolent? |
scarce alive |
But lo! |
“’Tis time, my child, arise, I pray! |
“Then send your grandson quietly |
“Oh! |
Tattiana waits. |
Ah! |
Yet still her heart, which torments tear, |
To secrets of virgins, |
Thus shakes the hare when suddenly |
I am not strong enough to state; |
To swagger as the art of love, |
And overcome antipathies |
Awhile this beauty captivated, |
Thus a guest with composure will |
May be the empire of the sense, |
It wakens in my breast again. |
Then, I say truly, none but thee |
Though now my love might be intense, |
Yet curses on his fate bestowing, |
Listen to me without disdain. |
All breathless and without replies. |
’Twas not the first time, I can tell |
XIX |
And yet he in your cause would strive |
That until Christmas comes again |
By every proper-minded wife, |
Cease the pursuit of shadows vain, |
Her health, life’s sweetness and its bloom, |
’Tis time she to the altar went! |
Always together, eventide |
Better than Chateaubriand did |
He leisurely adorns for her. |
Which all her darling friends have scrawled |
XXIX |
XXX |
Enough, it’s time now to move on!’ |
Is all you’ve read |
When poets lachrymose recite |
Or, after dinner’s dull repast, |
A hermit’s life Onéguine led, |
A fiery, yet well-broken horse, |
This is well known, |
With his ferocious mate appears. |
There! |
Walking? |
To idle musing was a prey; |
XLV |
what verses, what delights, |
Alas! |
XLII |
But lo! |
But stay! |
“Who will be there?”— |
And love’s delicious diadem |
The credulous indeed are blest, |
I |
II |
III |
IV |
V |
VI |
VII |
Hope e’en to these |
But this brings |
Of clarinet or flute doth cry: |
Undressed herself and went to bed |
With boiling torrent dark and gray; |
He roars, and “Ah!” |
With fir-trees standing motionless |
Grown clammy, stick fast in the snow; |
Till amid trees a hovel showed, |
What doth she see? |
And wildly waves its arms and storms; |
Tattiana courage doth regain |
Those hellish phantoms. |
The troop of apparitions fled, |
XXI |
XXII |
XXIII |
XXIV |
XXV |
XXVI |
XXVII |
XXVIII |
“Ah! |
With effort she restrains. |
And marking Tania’s agitation, |
Triquet arose, and for the bard |
He bowed to her nor silence broke, |
Or if he meant to flirt again, |
And testy gamesters do engage |
The stomach doth admonish us. |
The Paris of those country parts |
The feet of my dear lady friends. |
Amid the company career. |
And jolting jarred the window-frames. |
Malign, |
Why?— |
But pistols twain, |
’Tis done. |
In jersey and in nightcap lay. |
An explanation: |
Who thrives this moment as I write, |
Openly or ’neath decent cloak. |
And bravery |
The man and liked his company, |
Turned and replied as it behoved, |
And ought he not to disregard |
Hath mixed himself in the affair, |
He feared the criminal might try |
And lo! |
Jealousy and vexation took |
He mused: |
If the poor maiden could have guessed |
Is ever thus. |
And Schiller read by candlelight. |
“Oh! |
XXII |
XXIII |
Seven doth strike. |
XXV |
XXVI |
XXVII |
Depart in peace and friendly live? |