Eugene Oneguine [Onegin]. Aleksandr Sergeevich Pushkin

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       Modest yet daring! And a tear

       Would at the proper time appear.

       X

       How well he played the greenhorn's part

       To cheat the inexperienced fair,

       Sometimes by pleasing flattery's art,

       Sometimes by ready-made despair;

       The feeble moment would espy

       Of tender years the modesty

       Conquer by passion and address,

       Await the long-delayed caress.

       Avowal then 'twas time to pray,

       Attentive to the heart's first beating,

       Follow up love—a secret meeting

       Arrange without the least delay—

       Then, then—well, in some solitude

       Lessons to give he understood!

       XI

       How soon he learnt to titillate

       The heart of the inveterate flirt!

       Desirous to annihilate

       His own antagonists expert,

       How bitterly he would malign,

       With many a snare their pathway line!

       But ye, O happy husbands, ye

       With him were friends eternally:

       The crafty spouse caressed him, who

       By Faublas in his youth was schooled,(5)

       And the suspicious veteran old,

       The pompous, swaggering cuckold too,

       Who floats contentedly through life,

       Proud of his dinners and his wife!

       [Note 5: Les Aventures du Chevalier de Faublas, a romance of a loose character by Jean Baptiste Louvet de Couvray, b. 1760, d. 1797, famous for his bold oration denouncing Robespierre, Marat and Danton.] XII One morn whilst yet in bed he lay, His valet brings him letters three. What, invitations? The same day As many entertainments be! A ball here, there a children's treat, Whither shall my rapscallion flit? Whither shall he go first? He'll see, Perchance he will to all the three. Meantime in matutinal dress And hat surnamed a "Bolivar"(6) He hies unto the "Boulevard," To loiter there in idleness Until the sleepless Breguet chime(7) Announcing to him dinner-time. [Note 6: A la "Bolivar," from the founder of Bolivian independence.] [Note 7: M. Breguet, a celebrated Parisian watchmaker—hence a slang term for a watch.] XIII 'Tis dark. He seats him in a sleigh, "Drive on!" the cheerful cry goes forth, His furs are powdered on the way By the fine silver of the north. He bends his course to Talon's, where(8) He knows Kaverine will repair.(9) He enters. High the cork arose And Comet champagne foaming flows. Before him red roast beef is seen And truffles, dear to youthful eyes, Flanked by immortal Strasbourg pies, The choicest flowers of French cuisine, And Limburg cheese alive and old Is seen next pine-apples of gold. [Note 8: Talon, a famous St. Petersburg restaurateur.] [Note 9: Paul Petrovitch Kaverine, a friend for whom Pushkin in his youth appears to have entertained great respect and admiration. He was an officer in the Hussars of the Guard, and a noted "dandy" and man about town. The poet on one occasion addressed the following impromptu to his friend's portrait: "Within him daily see the the fires of punch and war, Upon the fields of Mars a gallant warrior, A faithful friend to friends, of ladies torturer, But ever the Hussar."] XIV Still thirst fresh draughts of wine compels To cool the cutlets' seething grease, When the sonorous Breguet tells Of the commencement of the piece. A critic of the stage malicious, A slave of actresses capricious, Oneguine was a citizen Of the domains of the side-scene. To the theatre he repairs Where each young critic ready stands, Capers applauds with clap of hands, With hisses Cleopatra scares, Moina recalls for this alone That all may hear his voice's tone. XV Thou fairy-land! Where formerly Shone pungent Satire's dauntless king, Von Wisine, friend of liberty, And Kniajnine, apt at copying. The young Simeonova too there With Ozeroff was wont to share Applause, the people's donative. There our Katenine did revive Corneille's majestic genius, Sarcastic Shakhovskoi brought out His comedies, a noisy rout, There Didelot became glorious, There, there, beneath the side-scene's shade The drama of my youth was played.(10) [Note 10: Denis Von Wisine (1741–92), a favourite Russian dramatist. His first comedy "The Brigadier," procured him the favour of the second Catherine. His best, however, is the "Minor" (Niedorosl). Prince Potemkin, after witnessing it, summoned the author, and greeted him with the exclamation, "Die now, Denis!" In fact, his subsequent performances were not of equal merit. Jacob Borissovitch Kniajnine (1742–91), a clever adapter of French tragedy. Simeonova, a celebrated tragic actress, who retired from the stage in early life and married a Prince Gagarine. Ozeroff, one of the best-known Russian dramatists of the period; he possessed more originality than Kniajnine. "Oedipus in Athens," "Fingal," "Demetrius Donskoi," and "Polyxena," are the best known of his tragedies. Katenine translated Corneille's tragedies into Russian. Didelot, sometime Director of the ballet at the Opera at St. Petersburg.] XVI My goddesses, where are your shades? Do ye not hear my mournful sighs? Are ye replaced by other maids Who cannot conjure former joys? Shall I your chorus hear anew, Russia's Terpsichore review Again in her ethereal dance? Or will my melancholy glance On the dull stage find all things changed, The disenchanted glass direct Where I can no more recollect?— A careless looker-on estranged In silence shall I sit and yawn And dream of life's delightful dawn? XVII The house is crammed. A thousand lamps On pit, stalls, boxes, brightly blaze, Impatiently the gallery stamps, The curtain now they slowly raise. Obedient to the magic strings, Brilliant, ethereal, there springs Forth from the crowd of nymphs surrounding Istomina(*) the nimbly-bounding; With one foot resting on its tip Slow circling round its fellow swings And now she skips and now she springs Like down from Aeolus's lip, Now her lithe form she arches o'er And beats with rapid foot the floor. [Note: Istomina—A celebrated Circassian dancer of the day, with whom the poet in his extreme youth imagined himself in love.] XVIII Shouts of applause! Oneguine passes Between the stalls, along the toes; Seated, a curious look with glasses On unknown female forms he throws. Free scope he yields unto his glance, Reviews both dress and countenance, With all dissatisfaction shows. To male acquaintances he bows, And finally he deigns let fall Upon the stage his weary glance. He yawns, averts his countenance, Exclaiming, "We must change 'em all! I long by ballets have been bored, Now Didelot scarce can be endured!" XIX Snakes, satyrs, loves with many a shout Across the stage still madly sweep, Whilst the tired serving-men without Wrapped in their sheepskins soundly sleep. Still the loud stamping doth not cease, Still they blow noses, cough, and sneeze, Still everywhere, without, within, The lamps illuminating shine; The steed benumbed still pawing stands And of the irksome harness tires, And still the coachmen round the fires(11) Abuse their masters, rub their hands: But Eugene long hath left the press To array himself in evening dress. [Note 11: In Russia large fires are lighted in winter time in front of the theatres for the benefit of the menials, who, considering the state of the thermometer, cannot be said to have a jovial time of it. But in this, as in other cases, "habit" alleviates their lot, and they bear the cold with a wonderful equanimity.] XX Faithfully shall I now depict, Portray the solitary den Wherein the child of fashion strict Dressed him, undressed, and dressed again? All that industrial London brings For tallow, wood and other things Across the Baltic's salt sea waves, All which caprice and affluence craves, All which in Paris eager taste, Choosing a profitable СКАЧАТЬ