I loved you—what did I obtain?

Affection how did you requite?

But with austerity!—for you

No novelty—is it not true?—

Was the meek love a maiden feels.

But now—my very blood congeals,

Calling to mind your icy look

And sermon—but in that dread hour

I blame not your behaviour—

An honourable course ye took,

Displayed a noble rectitude—

My soul is filled with gratitude!

XLIII

"Then, in the country, is't not true?

And far removed from rumour vain;

I did not please you. Why pursue

Me now, inflict upon me pain?—

Wherefore am I your quarry held?—

Is it that I am now compelled

To move in fashionable life,

That I am rich, a prince's wife?—

Because my lord, in battles maimed,

Is petted by the Emperor?—

That my dishonour would ensure

A notoriety proclaimed,

And in society might shed

A bastard fame prohibited?

XLIV

"I weep. And if within your breast

My image hath not disappeared,

Know that your sarcasm ill-suppressed,

Your conversation cold and hard,

If the choice in my power were,

To lawless love I should prefer—

And to these letters and these tears.

For visions of my childish years

Then ye were barely generous,

Age immature averse to cheat—

But now—what brings you to my feet?—

How mean, how pusillanimous!

A prudent man like you and brave

To shallow sentiment a slave!

XLV

"Oneguine, all this sumptuousness,

The gilding of life's vanities,

In the world's vortex my success,

My splendid house and gaieties—

What are they? Gladly would I yield

This life in masquerade concealed,

This glitter, riot, emptiness,

For my wild garden and bookcase,—

Yes! for our unpretending home,

Oneguine—the beloved place

Where the first time I saw your face,—

Or for the solitary tomb

Wherein my poor old nurse doth lie

Beneath a cross and shrubbery.

XLVI

"'Twas possible then, happiness—

Nay, near—but destiny decreed—

My lot is fixed—with thoughtlessness

It may be that I did proceed—

With bitter tears my mother prayed,

And for Tattiana, mournful maid,

Indifferent was her future fate.

I married—now, I supplicate—

For ever your Tattiana leave.

Your heart possesses, I know well,

Honour and pride inflexible.

I love you—to what end deceive?—

But I am now another's bride—

For ever faithful will abide."

XLVII

She rose—departed. But Eugene

Stood as if struck by lightning fire.

What a storm of emotions keen

Raged round him and of balked desire!

And hark! the clank of spurs is heard

And Tania's husband soon appeared.—

But now our hero we must leave

Just at a moment which I grieve

Must be pronounced unfortunate—

For long—for ever. To be sure

Together we have wandered o'er

The world enough. Congratulate

Each other as the shore we climb!

Hurrah! it long ago was time!

XLVIII

Reader, whoever thou mayst be,

Foeman or friend, I do aspire

To part in amity with thee!

Adieu! whate'er thou didst desire

From careless stanzas such as these,

Of passion reminiscences,

Pictures of the amusing scene,

Repose from labour, satire keen,

Or faults of grammar on its page—

God grant that all who herein glance,

In serious mood or dalliance

Or in a squabble to engage,

May find a crumb to satisfy.

Now we must separate. Good-bye!

XLIX

And farewell thou, my gloomy friend,

Thou also, my ideal true,

And thou, persistent to the end,

My little book. With thee I knew

All that a poet could desire,

Oblivion of life's tempest dire,

Of friends the grateful intercourse—

Oh, many a year hath run its course

Since I beheld Eugene and young

Tattiana in a misty dream,