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

"Ideas and time ne'er backward move; My soul I cannot renovate— I love you with a brother's love, Perchance one more affectionate.Listen to me without disdain. A maid hath oft, may yet again Replace the visions fancy drew; Thus trees in spring their leaves renew As in their turn the seasons roll. 'Tis evidently Heaven's will You fall in love again. But still— Learn to possess more self-control.Not all will like myself proceed— And thoughtlessness to woe might lead."

XI

Thus did our friend Oneguine preach: Tattiana, dim with tears her eyes, Attentive listened to his speech, All breathless and without replies.His arm he offers. Mute and sad (Mechanically, let us add), Tattiana doth accept his aid; And, hanging down her head, the maid Around the garden homeward hies. Together they returned, nor word Of censure for the same incurred; The country hath its liberties And privileges nice allowed, Even as Moscow, city proud.

XII

Confess, O ye who this peruse, Oneguine acted very well By poor Tattiana in the blues; 'Twas not the first time, I can tell You, he a noble mind disclosed, Though some men, evilly disposed, Spared him not their asperities. His friends and also enemies (One and the same thing it may be) Esteemed him much as the world goes. Yes! every one must have his foes, But Lord! from friends deliver me! The deuce take friends, my friends, amends I've had to make for having friends!

XIII

But how? Quite so. Though I dismiss Dark, unavailing reverie, I just hint, in parenthesis, There is no stupid calumny Born of a babbler in a loft And by the world repeated oft, There is no fishmarket retort And no ridiculous report, Which your true friend with a sweet smile Where fashionable circles meet A hundred times will not repeat, Quite inadvertently meanwhile; And yet he in your cause would strive And loves you as—a relative!

XIV

Ahem! Ahem! My reader noble, 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—God bless them, if He list.

XV