The Demon / Демон. Книга для чтения на английском языке. Михаил Лермонтов

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      And so he came, prepared to give

      His heart in love, his soul to light.

      He thought the time had come to live

      A new life on this longed-for night.

      As though at a first assignation

      The proud soul felt a strange, shy thrill,

      A shuddering, timid expectation:

      It was a sign that boded ill!

      He entered, looked around. Before him

      The lovely sinner's Guardian stood,

      Heaven's messenger, bright cherubim,

      With smiling lips and brow of flame.

      So, the fell enemy forestalling,

      The brilliant spirit of the Good

      Had gathered her beneath his wing.

      The Demon looked for tender greeting —

      But light divine upon him beating

      And stern rebuke upon him came:

      «Spirit of idleness and sin,

      At this dark hour who called you? say!

      You have no servants here within

      These sacred walls, nor to this day

      Has breath of evil visited

      This charge of mine, to you forbid…

      Who called you?» – Subtly in reply

      The Demon smiled but in him woke

      The ancient hate of hell. His eye

      Flashed fiery-jealous as he spoke

      Upon the messenger divine:

      «Leave her!» he said. «For she is mine!

      Too late you came, good guardian – see

      You are no judge of such as we

      For her proud heart belongs to me.

      No charge is she of powers above

      Here I am lord, and here I love!» —

      Sad-eyed, the angel bent his glance

      Upon the evil spirit's prey

      Then slowly flapped his great wings once

      And through the ether soared away.

      …

      Tamara

           Who are you? You are perilous

      Say – are you come from heaven or hell?

      What do you want?

      The Demon

           What loveliness!

      Tamara

      But speak, who are you? You must tell.

      The Demon

           I am he to whom you barkened

      In the stillness of the night,

      He whose thought your mind has darkened,

      He whose sadness you have felt,

      Whose image haunts your waking sight,

      Whose name the end of hope has spelt

      To every soul with whom I treat.

      I am he no man may love,

      A scourge to all my mortal slaves,

      The ill in nature. Enemy

      To Heaven and all the powers above.

      Lord of knowledge, liberty.

      And, as you see, I'm at your feet.

      Moved beyond all that I have known

      I would speak softly in your ears

      Quiet prayers of love. Tell of my pain,

      My first on earth, and my first tears.

      Ah hear me out, for pity's sake!

      One word from you would quite restore me.

      Robed in the love of your pure heart

      I might again resume my part

      In the angelic ranks and take

      An aspect new and a new glory.

      Ah, hear me, hear me I implore you,

      I am your slave and I adore you!

      No sooner did I see you than

      I felt a sudden, veiled revulsion

      For immortality and power;

      And I was drawn by strange compulsion

      To envy the frail joys of man;

      Life without you became a torment

      To be apart from you – a horror.

      A living ray of warmth, a portent

      Of fair renewal touched my heart

      And set the cold blood coursing. Sorrow

      Beneath the scar stirred like a serpent

      Awakening an ancient pain.

      For, tell me, without you what gain

      Is there in my infinity?

      Endless dominion, majesty?

      Loud, empty words – a spacious fane

      Devoid of all divinity!

      Tamara

           Leave me, false spirit of deceit

      Be silent, for I will not trust

      The Enemy. Ah God… some sweet

      Insistent poison saps resolve —

      I cannot say the prayer I must —

      Your words are fire and I dissolve

      And melt in them. I cannot see…

      But say: how came you to love me?

      The Demon

           How, lovely one? – I do not know,

      My life is wondrous full and new,

      The crown of thorns I proudly cast

      With my own hands from off my brow.

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