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

Frosty the night; the heavens shone; The wondrous host of heavenly spheres Sailed silently in unison— Tattiana in the yard appears In a half-open dressing-gown And bends her mirror on the moon, But trembling on the mirror dark The sad moon only could remark.List! the snow crunches—he draws nigh! The girl on tiptoe forward bounds And her voice sweeter than the sounds Of clarinet or flute doth cry: "What is your name?" The boor looked dazed, And "Agathon" replied, amazed.[56]

X

Tattiana (nurse the project planned) By night prepared for sorcery, And in the bathroom did command To lay two covers secretly.But sudden fear assailed Tattiana, And I, remembering Svetlana,[57] Become alarmed. So never mind! I'm not for witchcraft now inclined.So she her silken sash unlaced, Undressed herself and went to bed And soon Lel hovered o'er her head.[58] Beneath her downy pillow placed, A little virgin mirror peeps. 'Tis silent all. Tattiana sleeps.

XI

A dreadful sleep Tattiana sleeps. She dreamt she journeyed o'er a field All covered up with snow in heaps, By melancholy fogs concealed.Amid the snowdrifts which surround A stream, by winter's ice unbound, Impetuously clove its way With boiling torrent dark and gray;Two poles together glued by ice, A fragile bridge and insecure, Spanned the unbridled torrent o'er; Beside the thundering abyss Tattiana in despair unfeigned Rooted unto the spot remained.

XII

As if against obstruction sore Tattiana o'er the stream complained; To help her to the other shore No one appeared to lend a hand.But suddenly a snowdrift stirs, And what from its recess appears? A bristly bear of monstrous size! He roars, and "Ah!" Tattiana cries.He offers her his murderous paw; She nerves herself from her alarm And leans upon the monster's arm, With footsteps tremulous with awePasses the torrent But alack! Bruin is marching at her back!

XIII

She, to turn back her eyes afraid, Accelerates her hasty pace, But cannot anyhow evade Her shaggy myrmidon in chase.The bear rolls on with many a grunt: A forest now she sees in front With fir-trees standing motionless In melancholy loveliness, Their branches by the snow bowed down. Through aspens, limes and birches bare, The shining orbs of night appear; There is no path; the storm hath strewn Both bush and brake, ravine and steep, And all in snow is buried deep.

XIV