Eugene Oneguine [Onegin]. A Romance of Russian Life in Verse

The fatal hour had come at last— She oped her eyes and cried: 'tis he! Alas! for now before her passed The same warm vision constantly;Now all things round about repeat Ceaselessly to the maiden sweet His name: the tenderness of home Tiresome unto her hath become And the kind-hearted servitors: Immersed in melancholy thought, She hears of conversation nought And hated casual visitors, Their coming which no man expects, And stay whose length none recollects.

VIII

Now with what eager interest She the delicious novel reads, With what avidity and zest She drinks in those seductive deeds!All the creations which below From happy inspiration flow, The swain of Julia Wolmar, Malek Adel and De Linar,[33] Werther, rebellious martyr bold, And that unrivalled paragon, The sleep-compelling Grandison, Our tender dreamer had enrolled A single being: 'twas in fine No other than Oneguine mine. 

IX

Dreaming herself the heroine Of the romances she preferred, Clarissa, Julia, Delphine,—[34] Tattiana through the forest erred, And the bad book accompanies. Upon those pages she descries Her passion's faithful counterpart, Fruit of the yearnings of the heart.She heaves a sigh and deep intent On raptures, sorrows not her own, She murmurs in an undertone A letter for her hero meant:That hero, though his merit shone, Was certainly no Grandison. 

X

Alas! my friends, the years flit byAnd after them at headlong paceThe evanescent fashions flyIn motley and amusing chase.The world is ever altering!Farthingales, patches, were the thing,And courtier, fop, and usurerWould once in powdered wig appear;Time was, the poet's tender quillIn hopes of everlasting fameA finished madrigal would frameOr couplets more ingenious still;Time was, a valiant general mightServe who could neither read nor write.

XI

Time was, in style magniloquent Authors replete with sacred fire Their heroes used to represent All that perfection could desire;Ever by adverse fate oppressed, Their idols they were wont to invest With intellect, a taste refined, And handsome countenance combined, A heart wherein pure passion burnt; The excited hero in a trice Was ready for self-sacrifice, And in the final tome we learnt, Vice had due punishment awarded, Virtue was with a bride rewarded.

XII