With humble prose I'll fill my page

And a romance in ancient style

Shall my declining years beguile;

Nor shall my pen paint terribly

The torment born of crime unseen,

But shall depict the touching scene

Of Russian domesticity;

I will descant on love's sweet dream,

The olden time shall be my theme.

XIV

Old people's simple conversations

My unpretending page shall fill,

Their offspring's innocent flirtations

By the old lime-tree or the rill,

Their Jealousy and separation

And tears of reconciliation:

Fresh cause of quarrel then I'll find,

But finally in wedlock bind.

The passionate speeches I'll repeat,

Accents of rapture or despair

I uttered to my lady fair

Long ago, prostrate at her feet.

Then they came easily enow,

My tongue is somewhat rusty now.

XV

Tattiana! sweet Tattiana, see!

What bitter tears with thee I shed!

Thou hast resigned thy destiny

Unto a ruthless tyrant dread.

Thou'lt suffer, dearest, but before,

Hope with her fascinating power

To dire contentment shall give birth

And thou shalt taste the joys of earth.

Thou'lt quaff love's sweet envenomed stream,

Fantastic images shall swarm

In thy imagination warm,

Of happy meetings thou shalt dream,

And wheresoe'er thy footsteps err,

Confront thy fated torturer!

XVI

Love's pangs Tattiana agonize.

She seeks the garden in her need—

Sudden she stops, casts down her eyes

And cares not farther to proceed;

Her bosom heaves whilst crimson hues

With sudden flush her cheeks suffuse,

Barely to draw her breath she seems,

Her eye with fire unwonted gleams.

And now 'tis night, the guardian moon

Sails her allotted course on high,

And from the misty woodland nigh

The nightingale trills forth her tune;

Restless Tattiana sleepless lay

And thus unto her nurse did say:

XVII

"Nurse, 'tis so close I cannot rest.

Open the window—sit by me."

"What ails thee, dear?"—"I feel depressed.

Relate some ancient history."

"But which, my dear?—In days of yore

Within my memory I bore

Many an ancient legend which

In monsters and fair dames was rich;

But now my mind is desolate,

What once I knew is clean forgot—

Alas! how wretched now my lot!"

"But tell me, nurse, can you relate

The days which to your youth belong?

Were you in love when you were young?"—

XVIII

"Alack! Tattiana," she replied,

"We never loved in days of old,

My mother-in-law who lately died(34)

Had killed me had the like been told."

"How came you then to wed a man?"—

"Why, as God ordered! My Ivan

Was younger than myself, my light,

For I myself was thirteen quite;(35)

The matchmaker a fortnight sped,

Her suit before my parents pressing:

At last my father gave his blessing,

And bitter tears of fright I shed.

Weeping they loosed my tresses long(36)

And led me off to church with song."

[Note 34: A young married couple amongst Russian peasants reside in the house of the bridegroom's father till the "tiaglo," or family circle is broken up by his death.]

[Note 35: Marriages amongst Russian serfs used formerly to take place at ridiculously early ages. Haxthausen asserts that strong hearty peasant women were to be seen at work in the fields with their infant husbands in their arms. The inducement lay in the fact that the "tiaglo" (see previous note) received an additional lot of the communal land for every male added to its number, though this could have formed an inducement in the southern and fertile provinces of Russia only, as it is believed that agriculture in the north is so unremunerative that land has often to be forced upon the peasants, in order that the taxes, for which the whole Commune is responsible to Government, may be paid. The abuse of early marriages was regulated by Tsar Nicholas.]

[Note 36: Courtships were not unfrequently carried on in the larger villages, which alone could support such an individual, by means of a "svakha," or matchmaker. In Russia unmarried girls wear their hair in a single long plait or tail, "kossa;" the married women, on the other hand, in two, which are twisted into the head-gear.]

XIX

"Then amongst strangers I was left—

But I perceive thou dost not heed—"

"Alas! dear nurse, my heart is cleft,

Mortally sick I am indeed.

Behold, my sobs I scarce restrain—"

"My darling child, thou art in pain.—