Laurel · Alexander Pushkin · Eugene Onegin

Canto I

Alexander Pushkin (1799–1837), translated by Henry Spalding · 1881

iambic tetrameter · 771 lines · from Eugene Onegin

“My uncle’s goodness is extreme,If seriously he hath disease;He hath acquired the world’s esteemAnd nothing more important sees;A paragon of virtue he!But what a nuisance it will be,Chained to his bedside night and dayWithout a chance to slip away.Ye need dissimulation baseA dying man with art to soothe,Beneath his head the pillow smooth,And physic bring with mournful face,To sigh and meditate alone:When will the devil take his own!”

Thus mused a madcap young, who droveThrough clouds of dust at postal pace,By the decree of Mighty Jove,Inheritor of all his race.Friends of Liudmila and Ruslan,Let me present ye to the man,Who without more prevaricationThe hero is of my narration!Onéguine, O my gentle readers,Was born beside the Neva, whereIt may be ye were born, or thereHave shone as one of fashion’s leaders.I also wandered there of old,But cannot stand the northern cold.

Having performed his service truly,Deep into debt his father ran;Three balls a year he gave ye duly,At last became a ruined man.But Eugene was by fate preserved,For first “madame” his wants observed,And then “monsieur” supplied her place;The boy was wild but full of grace.“Monsieur l’Abbé” a starving Gaul,Fearing his pupil to annoy,Instructed jestingly the boy,Morality taught scarce at all;Gently for pranks he would reproveAnd in the Summer Garden rove.

When youth’s rebellious hour drew nearAnd my Eugene the path must trace—The path of hope and tender fear—Monsieur clean out of doors they chase.Lo! my Onéguine free as air,Cropped in the latest style his hair,Dressed like a London dandy heThe giddy world at last shall see.He wrote and spoke, so all allowed,In the French language perfectly,Danced the mazurka gracefully,Without the least constraint he bowed.What more’s required? The world replies,He is a charming youth and wise.

We all of us of educationA something somehow have obtained,Thus, praised be God! a reputationWith us is easily attained.Onéguine was—so many deemedPedantic although scholar like,In truth he had the happy trickWithout constraint in conversationOf touching lightly every theme.Silent, oracular ye’d see himAmid a serious disputation,Then suddenly discharge a jokeThe ladies’ laughter to provoke.

Latin is just now not in vogue,But if the truth I must relate,Onéguine knew enough, the rogueA mild quotation to translate,A little Juvenal to spout,With “vale” finish off a note;Two verses he could recollectOf the Æneid, but incorrect.In history he took no pleasure,The dusty chronicles of earthFor him were but of little worth,Yet still of anecdotes a treasureWithin his memory there lay,From Romulus unto our day.

For empty sound the rascal swore heExistence would not make a curse,Knew not an iamb from a choree,Although we read him heaps of verse.Homer, Theocritus, he jeered,But Adam Smith to read appeared,And at economy was great;That is, he could elucidateHow empires store of wealth unfold,How flourish, why and wherefore lessIf the raw product they possessThe medium is required of gold.The father scarcely understandsHis son and mortgages his lands.

But upon all that Eugene knewI have no leisure here to dwell,But say he was a genius whoIn one thing really did excel.It occupied him from a boy,A labour, torment, yet a joy,It whiled his idle hours awayAnd wholly occupied his day—The amatory science warm,Which Ovid once immortalized,For which the poet agonizedLaid down his life of sun and stormOn the steppes of Moldavia lone,Far from his Italy—his own.

Pushkin, then residing in Bessarabia, was in the same predicamentas his predecessor in song, though he certainly did not pleadguilty to the fact, since he remarks in his ode to Ovid:To exile self-consigned,With self, society, existence, discontent,I visit in these days, with melancholy mind,The country whereunto a mournful age thee sent.

“Perdiderint quum me duo crimina, carmen et error,Alterius facti culpa silenda mihi est.”

How soon he learnt deception’s art,Hope to conceal and jealousy,False confidence or doubt to impart,Sombre or glad in turn to be,Haughty appear, subservient,Obsequious or indifferent!What languor would his silence show,How full of fire his speech would glow!How artless was the note which spokeOf love again, and yet again;How deftly could he transport feign!How bright and tender was his look,Modest yet daring! And a tearWould at the proper time appear.

How well he played the greenhorn’s partTo cheat the inexperienced fair,Sometimes by pleasing flattery’s art,Sometimes by ready-made despair;The feeble moment would espyOf tender years the modestyConquer 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 meetingArrange without the least delay—Then, then—well, in some solitudeLessons to give he understood!

How soon he learnt to titillateThe heart of the inveterate flirt!Desirous to annihilateHis own antagonists expert,How bitterly he would malign,With many a snare their pathway line!But ye, O happy husbands, yeWith him were friends eternally:The crafty spouse caressed him, whoBy Faublas in his youth was schooled,And the suspicious veteran old,The pompous, swaggering cuckold too,Who floats contentedly through life,Proud of his dinners and his wife!

loose character by Jean Baptiste Louvet de Couvray, b. 1760,d. 1797, famous for his bold oration denouncing Robespierre,

One morn whilst yet in bed he lay,His valet brings him letters three.What, invitations? The same dayAs 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 dressAnd hat surnamed a “Bolivar”He hies unto the “Boulevard,”To loiter there in idlenessUntil the sleepless Bréguet chimeAnnouncing to him dinner-time.

’Tis dark. He seats him in a sleigh,“Drive on!” the cheerful cry goes forth,His furs are powdered on the wayBy the fine silver of the north.He bends his course to Talon’s, whereHe knows Kaverine will repair.He enters. High the cork aroseAnd Comet champagne foaming flows.Before him red roast beef is seenAnd truffles, dear to youthful eyes,Flanked by immortal Strasbourg pies,The choicest flowers of French cuisine,And Limburg cheese alive and oldIs seen next pine-apples of gold.

“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,

Still thirst fresh draughts of wine compelsTo cool the cutlets’ seething grease,When the sonorous Bréguet tellsOf the commencement of the piece.A critic of the stage malicious,A slave of actresses capricious,Onéguine was a citizenOf the domains of the side-scene.To the theatre he repairsWhere each young critic ready stands,Capers applauds with clap of hands,With hisses Cleopatra scares,Moina recalls for this aloneThat all may hear his voice’s tone.

Thou fairy-land! Where formerlyShone pungent Satire’s dauntless king,Von Wisine, friend of liberty,And Kniajnine, apt at copying.The young Simeonova too thereWith Ozeroff was wont to shareApplause, the people’s donative.There our Katènine did reviveCorneille’s majestic genius,Sarcastic Shakhovskoi brought outHis comedies, a noisy rout,There Didelot became glorious,There, there, beneath the side-scene’s shadeThe drama of my youth was played.

French tragedy.

Didelot, sometime Director of the ballet at the Opera at

My goddesses, where are your shades?Do ye not hear my mournful sighs?Are ye replaced by other maidsWho cannot conjure former joys?Shall I your chorus hear anew,Russia’s Terpsichore reviewAgain in her ethereal dance?Or will my melancholy glanceOn the dull stage find all things changed,The disenchanted glass directWhere I can no more recollect?—A careless looker-on estrangedIn silence shall I sit and yawnAnd dream of life’s delightful dawn?

The house is crammed. A thousand lampsOn pit, stalls, boxes, brightly blaze,Impatiently the gallery stamps,The curtain now they slowly raise.Obedient to the magic strings,Brilliant, ethereal, there springsForth from the crowd of nymphs surroundingIstomina the nimbly-bounding;With one foot resting on its tipSlow circling round its fellow swingsAnd now she skips and now she springsLike down from Aeolus’s lip,Now her lithe form she arches o’erAnd beats with rapid foot the floor.

Shouts of applause! Onéguine passesBetween the stalls, along the toes;Seated, a curious look with glassesOn 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 fallUpon 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!”

Snakes, satyrs, loves with many a shoutAcross the stage still madly sweep,Whilst the tired serving-men withoutWrapped 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 standsAnd of the irksome harness tires,And still the coachmen round the firesAbuse their masters, rub their hands:But Eugene long hath left the pressTo array himself in evening dress.

Faithfully shall I now depict,Portray the solitary denWherein the child of fashion strictDressed him, undressed, and dressed again?All that industrial London bringsFor tallow, wood and other thingsAcross the Baltic’s salt sea waves,All which caprice and affluence craves,All which in Paris eager taste,Choosing a profitable trade,For our amusement ever madeAnd ease and fashionable waste,—Adorned the apartment of Eugene,Philosopher just turned eighteen.

China and bronze the tables weight,Amber on pipes from Stamboul glows,And, joy of souls effeminate,Phials of crystal scents enclose.Combs of all sizes, files of steel,Scissors both straight and curved as well,Of thirty different sorts, lo! brushesBoth for the nails and for the tushes.Rousseau, I would remark in passing,Could not conceive how serious GrimmDared calmly cleanse his nails ’fore him,Eloquent raver all-surpassing,—The friend of liberty and lawsIn this case quite mistaken was.

The most industrious man aliveMay yet be studious of his nails;What boots it with the age to strive?Custom the despot soon prevails.A new Kaverine Eugene mine,Dreading the world’s remarks malign,Was that which we are wont to callA fop, in dress pedantical.Three mortal hours per diem heWould loiter by the looking-glass,And from his dressing-room would passLike Venus when, capriciously,The goddess would a masqueradeAttend in male attire arrayed.

On this artistical retreatHaving once fixed your interest,I might to connoisseurs repeatThe style in which my hero dressed;Though I confess I hardly dareDescribe in detail the affair,Since words like pantaloons, vest, coat,To Russ indigenous are not;And also that my feeble verse—Pardon I ask for such a sin—With words of foreign originToo much I’m given to intersperse,Though to the Academy I comeAnd oft its Dictionary thumb.

But such is not my project now,So let us to the ball-room haste,Whither at headlong speed doth goEugene in hackney carriage placed.Past darkened windows and long streetsOf slumbering citizens he fleets,Till carriage lamps, a double row,Cast a gay lustre on the snow,Which shines with iridescent hues.He nears a spacious mansion’s gate,By many a lamp illuminate,And through the lofty windows viewsProfiles of lovely dames he knowsAnd also fashionable beaux.

Our hero stops and doth alight,Flies past the porter to the stair,But, ere he mounts the marble flight,With hurried hand smooths down his hair.He enters: in the hall a crowd,No more the music thunders loud,Some a mazurka occupies,Crushing and a confusing noise;Spurs of the Cavalier Guard clash,The feet of graceful ladies fly,And following them ye might espyFull many a glance like lightning flash,And by the fiddle’s rushing soundThe voice of jealousy is drowned.

In my young days of wild delightOn balls I madly used to dote,Fond declarations they inviteOr the delivery of a note.So hearken, every worthy spouse,I would your vigilance arouse,Attentive be unto my rhymesAnd due precautions take betimes.Ye mothers also, caution use,Upon your daughters keep an eye,Employ your glasses constantly,For otherwise—God only knows!I lift a warning voice becauseI long have ceased to offend the laws.

Alas! life’s hours which swiftly flyI’ve wasted in amusements vain,But were it not immoral IShould dearly like a dance again.I love its furious delight,The crowd and merriment and light,The ladies, their fantastic dress,Also their feet—yet ne’erthelessScarcely in Russia can ye findThree pairs of handsome female feet;Ah! I still struggle to forgetA pair; though desolate my mind,Their memory lingers still and seemsTo agitate me in my dreams.

When, where, and in what desert land,Madman, wilt thou from memory razeThose feet? Alas! on what far strandDo ye of spring the blossoms graze?Lapped in your Eastern luxury,No trace ye left in passing byUpon the dreary northern snows,But better loved the soft reposeOf splendid carpets richly wrought.I once forgot for your sweet causeThe thirst for fame and man’s applause,My country and an exile’s lot;My joy in youth was fleeting e’enAs your light footprints on the green.

Diana’s bosom, Flora’s cheeks,Are admirable, my dear friend,But yet Terpsichore bespeaksCharms more enduring in the end.For promises her feet revealOf untold gain she must conceal,Their privileged allurements fireA hidden train of wild desire.I love them, O my dear Elvine,Beneath the table-cloth of white,In winter on the fender bright,In springtime on the meadows green,Upon the ball-room’s glassy floorOr by the ocean’s rocky shore.

Beside the stormy sea one dayI envied sore the billows tall,Which rushed in eager dense arrayEnamoured at her feet to fall.How like the billow I desiredTo kiss the feet which I admired!No, never in the early blazeOf fiery youth’s untutored daysSo ardently did I desireA young Armida’s lips to press,Her cheek of rosy lovelinessOr bosom full of languid fire,—A gust of passion never toreMy spirit with such pangs before.

Another time, so willed it Fate,Immersed in secret thought I standAnd grasp a stirrup fortunate—Her foot was in my other hand.Again imagination blazed,The contact of the foot I raisedRekindled in my withered heartThe fires of passion and its smart—Away! and cease to ring their praiseFor ever with thy tattling lyre,The proud ones are not worth the fireOf passion they so often raise.The words and looks of charmers sweetAre oft deceptive—like their feet.

Where is Onéguine? Half asleep,Straight from the ball to bed he goes,Whilst Petersburg from slumber deepThe drum already doth arouse.The shopman and the pedlar riseAnd to the Bourse the cabman plies;The Okhtenka with pitcher speeds,Crunching the morning snow she treads;Morning awakes with joyous sound;The shutters open; to the skiesIn column blue the smoke doth rise;The German baker looks aroundHis shop, a night-cap on his head,And pauses oft to serve out bread.

But turning morning into night,Tired by the ball’s incessant noise,The votary of vain delightSleep in the shadowy couch enjoys,Late in the afternoon to rise,When the same life before him liesTill morn—life uniform but gay,To-morrow just like yesterday.But was our friend Eugene content,Free, in the blossom of his spring,Amidst successes flatteringAnd pleasure’s daily blandishment,Or vainly ’mid luxurious fareWas he in health and void of care?—

Even so! His passions soon abated,Hateful the hollow world became,Nor long his mind was agitatedBy love’s inevitable flame.For treachery had done its worst;Friendship and friends he likewise curst,Because he could not gourmandiseDaily beefsteaks and Strasbourg piesAnd irrigate them with champagne;Nor slander viciously could spreadWhene’er he had an aching head;And, though a plucky scatterbrain,He finally lost all delightIn bullets, sabres, and in fight.

His malady, whose cause I weenIt now to investigate is time,Was nothing but the British spleenTransported to our Russian clime.It gradually possessed his mind;Though, God be praised! he ne’er designedTo slay himself with blade or ball,Indifferent he became to all,And like Childe Harold gloomilyHe to the festival repairs,Nor boston nor the world’s affairsNor tender glance nor amorous sighImpressed him in the least degree,—Callous to all he seemed to be.

Ye miracles of courtly grace,He left you first, and I must ownThe manners of the highest classHave latterly vexatious grown;And though perchance a lady mayDiscourse of Bentham or of Say,Yet as a rule their talk I callHarmless, but quite nonsensical.Then they’re so innocent of vice,So full of piety, correct,So prudent, and so circumspectStately, devoid of prejudice,So inaccessible to men,Their looks alone produce the spleen.

And you, my youthful damsels fair,Whom latterly one often meetsUrging your droshkies swift as airAlong Saint Petersburg’s paved streets,From you too Eugene took to flight,Abandoning insane delight,And isolated from all men,Yawning betook him to a pen.He thought to write, but labour longInspired him with disgust and soNought from his pen did ever flow,And thus he never fell amongThat vicious set whom I don’t blame—Because a member I became.

Once more to idleness consigned,He felt the laudable desireFrom mere vacuity of mindThe wit of others to acquire.A case of books he doth obtain—He reads at random, reads in vain.This nonsense, that dishonest seems,This wicked, that absurd he deems,All are constrained and fetters bear,Antiquity no pleasure gave,The moderns of the ancients rave—Books he abandoned like the fair,His book-shelf instantly doth drapeWith taffety instead of crape.

Having abjured the haunts of men,Like him renouncing vanity,His friendship I acquired just then;His character attracted me.An innate love of meditation,Original imagination,And cool sagacious mind he had:I was incensed and he was sad.Both were of passion satiateAnd both of dull existence tired,Extinct the flame which once had fired;Both were expectant of the hateWith which blind Fortune oft betraysThe very morning of our days.

He who hath lived and living, thinks,Must e’en despise his kind at last;He who hath suffered ofttimes shrinksFrom shades of the relentless past.No fond illusions live to soothe,But memory like a serpent’s toothWith late repentance gnaws and stings.All this in many cases bringsA charm with it in conversation.Onéguine’s speeches I abhorredAt first, but soon became inuredTo the sarcastic observation,To witticisms and taunts half-viciousAnd gloomy epigrams malicious.

How oft, when on a summer nightTransparent o’er the Neva beamedThe firmament in mellow light,And when the watery mirror gleamedNo more with pale Diana’s rays,We called to mind our youthful days—The days of love and of romance!Then would we muse as in a trance,Impressionable for an hour,And breathe the balmy breath of night;And like the prisoner’s our delightWho for the greenwood quits his tower,As on the rapid wings of thoughtThe early days of life we sought.

Absorbed in melancholy moodAnd o’er the granite coping bent,Onéguine meditative stood,E’en as the poet says he leant.’Tis silent all! Alone the criesOf the night sentinels ariseAnd from the Millionaya afarThe sudden rattling of a car.Lo! on the sleeping river borne,A boat with splashing oar floats by,And now we hear delightedlyA jolly song and distant horn;But sweeter in a midnight dreamTorquato Tasso’s strains I deem.

Ye billows of blue Hadria’s sea,O Brenta, once more we shall meetAnd, inspiration firing me,Your magic voices I shall greet,Whose tones Apollo’s sons inspire,And after Albion’s proud lyrePossess my love and sympathy.The nights of golden ItalyI’ll pass beneath the firmament,Hid in the gondola’s dark shade,Alone with my Venetian maid,Now talkative, now reticent;From her my lips shall learn the tongueOf love which whilom Petrarch sung.

When will my hour of freedom come!Time, I invoke thee! favouring galesAwaiting on the shore I roamAnd beckon to the passing sails.Upon the highway of the seaWhen shall I wing my passage freeOn waves by tempests curdled o’er!’Tis time to quit this weary shoreSo uncongenial to my mind,To dream upon the sunny strandOf Africa, ancestral land,Of dreary Russia left behind,Wherein I felt love’s fatal dart,Wherein I buried left my heart.

Eugene designed with me to startAnd visit many a foreign clime,But Fortune cast our lots apartFor a protracted space of time.Just at that time his father died,And soon Onéguine’s door besideOf creditors a hungry routTheir claims and explanations shout.But Eugene, hating litigationAnd with his lot in life content,To a surrender gave consent,Seeing in this no deprivation,Or counting on his uncle’s deathAnd what the old man might bequeath.

And in reality one dayThe steward sent a note to tellHow sick to death his uncle layAnd wished to say to him farewell.Having this mournful documentPerused, Eugene in postchaise wentAnd hastened to his uncle’s side,But in his heart dissatisfied,Having for money’s sake aloneSorrow to counterfeit and wail—Thus we began our little tale—But, to his uncle’s mansion flown,He found him on the table laid,A due which must to earth be paid.

The courtyard full of serfs he sees,And from the country all aroundHad come both friends and enemies—Funeral amateurs abound!The body they consigned to rest,And then made merry pope and guest,With serious air then went awayAs men who much had done that day.Lo! my Onéguine rural lord!Of mines and meadows, woods and lakes,He now a full possession takes,He who economy abhorred,Delighted much his former waysTo vary for a few brief days.

For two whole days it seemed a changeTo wander through the meadows still,The cool dark oaken grove to range,To listen to the rippling rill.But on the third of grove and meadHe took no more the slightest heed;They made him feel inclined to doze;And the conviction soon arose,Ennui can in the country dwellThough without palaces and streets,Cards, balls, routs, poetry or fêtes;On him spleen mounted sentinelAnd like his shadow dogged his life,Or better,—like a faithful wife.

I was for calm existence made,For rural solitude and dreams,My lyre sings sweeter in the shadeAnd more imagination teems.On innocent delights I dote,Upon my lake I love to float,For law I far niente takeAnd every morning I awakeThe child of sloth and liberty.I slumber much, a little read,Of fleeting glory take no heed.In former years thus did not IIn idleness and tranquil joyThe happiest days of life employ?

Love, flowers, the country, idlenessAnd fields my joys have ever been;I like the difference to expressBetween myself and my Eugene,Lest the malicious reader orSome one or other editorOf keen sarcastic intellectHerein my portrait should detect,And impiously should declare,To sketch myself that I have triedLike Byron, bard of scorn and pride,As if impossible it wereTo write of any other elfThan one’s own fascinating self.

Here I remark all poets areLove to idealize inclined;I have dreamed many a vision fairAnd the recesses of my mindRetained the image, though short-lived,Which afterwards the muse revived.Thus carelessly I once portrayedMine own ideal, the mountain maid,The captives of the Salguir’s shore.But now a question in this wiseOft upon friendly lips doth rise:Whom doth thy plaintive Muse adore?To whom amongst the jealous throngOf maids dost thou inscribe thy song?

Whose glance reflecting inspirationWith tenderness hath recognizedThy meditative incantation—Whom hath thy strain immortalized?None, be my witness Heaven above!The malady of hopeless loveI have endured without respite.Happy who thereto can unitePoetic transport. They impartA double force unto their songWho following Petrarch move alongAnd ease the tortures of the heart—Perchance they laurels also cull—But I, in love, was mute and dull.

The Muse appeared, when love passed byAnd my dark soul to light was brought;Free, I renewed the idolatryOf harmony enshrining thought.I write, and anguish flies away,Nor doth my absent pen portrayAround my stanzas incompleteYoung ladies’ faces and their feet.Extinguished ashes do not blaze—I mourn, but tears I cannot shed—Soon, of the tempest which hath fledTime will the ravages efface—When that time comes, a poem I’ll striveTo write in cantos twenty-five.

I’ve thought well o’er the general plan,The hero’s name too in advance,Meantime I’ll finish whilst I canCanto the First of this romance.I’ve scanned it with a jealous eye,Discovered much absurdity,But will not modify a tittle—I owe the censorship a little.For journalistic deglutitionI yield the fruit of work severe.Go, on the Neva’s bank appear,My very latest composition!Enjoy the meed which Fame bestows—Misunderstanding, words and blows.

Words in this poem 155

paragon n.: A companion; a match; an equal.
bedside n.: The side of a bed.
soothe v. t.: To assent to as true. Testament of Love. [Originally, to assent to as true; OE. so to verify, AS. ges to prove the truth of, to bear witness. See Sooth, a.]
madcap a.: Inclined to wild sports; delighting in rash, absurd, or dangerous amusements.
drove n.: A collection of cattle driven, or cattle collected for driving; a number of animals, as oxen, sheep, or swine, driven in a body. [AS. draf, fr. drifan to drive. See Drive.]
jove n.: The chief divinity of the ancient Romans; Jupiter. [L. Jupiter, gen. Jovis, OL. Jovis, nom. & gen. for Djovis; akin to E. Tuesday. See Tuesday, and cf. Jupiter.]
inheritor n.: One who inherits; an heir.
prevarication n.: The act of prevaricating, shuffling, or quibbling, to evade the truth or the disclosure of truth; a deviation from the truth and fair dealing. [L. praevaricatio: cf. F. prévarication.]
madame n.: My lady; -- a French title formerly given to ladies of quality; now, in France, given to all married women. [F., fr. ma my (L. mea) + dame dame. See Dame, and cf. Madonna.]
monsieur n.: The common title of civility in France in speaking to, or of, a man; Mr. or Sir. [Represented by the abbreviation M. or Mons. in the singular, and by MM. or Messrs. in the plural.] [F., fr. mon my + Sieur, abbrev. of seigneur lord. See Monseigneur.]
jestingly adv.: In a jesting manner.
scarce a.: Not plentiful or abundant; in small quantity in proportion to the demand; not easily to be procured; rare; uncommon. [OE. scars, OF. escars, eschars, LL. scarpsus, for L. excerptus, p. p. of excerpere to pick out, and hence to contract, to shorten; ex (see Ex-) + carpere. See C]
rebellious a.: Engaged in rebellion; disposed to rebel of the nature of rebels or of rebellion; resisting government or lawful authority by force.
shall v. i.: To owe; to be under obligation for. [OE. shal, schal, imp. sholde, scholde, AS. scal, sceal, I am obliged, imp. scolde, sceolde, inf. sculan; akin to OS. skulan, pres. skal, imp. skolda, D. zullen,]
wrote v. i.: To root with the snout. See 1st Root. [OE. wroten. See 1st Root.]
spoke n.: The radius or ray of a wheel; one of the small bars which are inserted in the hub, or nave, and which serve to support the rim or felly. [OE. spoke, spake, AS, spaca; akin to D. speek, LG. speke, OHG. speihha, G. speiche. sq. root170. Cf. Spike a nail.]
mazurka n.: A Polish dance, or the music which accompanies it, usually in 3-4 or 3-8 measure, with a strong accent on the second beat.
somehow adv.: In one way or another; in some way not yet known or designated; by some means; as, the thing must be done somehow; he lives somehow.
oracular a.: Of or pertaining to an oracle; uttering oracles; forecasting the future; as, an oracular tongue. [L. oracularius. See Oracle.]
amid prep.: In the midst or middle of; surrounded or encompassed by; among. [OE. amidde, amiddes, on midden, AS. on middan, in the middle, fr. midde the middle. The s is an adverbial ending, originally marking the genitive; the t is a la]
vogue n.: The way or fashion of people at any particular time; temporary mode, custom, or practice; popular reception for the time; -- used now generally in the phrase in vogue. [F. vogue a rowing, vogue, fashion, It. voga, fr. vogare to row, to sail; probably fr. OHG. wag to move, akin to E. way. Cf. Way.]
quotation n.: The act of quoting or citing. [From Quote.]
vale n.: A tract of low ground, or of land between hills; a valley. [OE. val, F. val, L. vallis; perhaps akin to Gr. Avalanche, Vail to lower, Valley.]
recollect v. t.: To recover or recall the knowledge of; to bring back to the mind or memory; to remember. [Pref. re- + collect: cf. L. recolligere, recollectum, to collect. Cf. Recollet.]
iamb n.: An iambus or iambic. [Cf. F. iambe. See Lambus.]
wealth n.: Weal; welfare; prosperity; good. [OE. welthe, from wele; cf. D. weelde luxury. See Weal prosperity.]
wherefore adv.: For which reason; so; -- used relatively. [Where + for.]
dwell v. i.: To delay; to linger. [OE. dwellen, dwelien, to err, linger, AS. dwellan to deceive, hinder, delay, dwelian to err; akin to Icel. dvelja to delay, tarry, Sw. dväljas to dwell, Dan. dv]
lone n.: A lane. See Loanin.
culpa n.: Negligence or fault, as distinguishable from dolus (deceit, fraud), which implies intent, culpa being imputable to defect of intellect, dolus to defect of heart. Wharton. [L.]
sombre n.: Gloom; obscurity; duskiness; somberness.
haughty a.: High; lofty; bold. [OE. hautein, F. hautain, fr. haut high, OF. also halt, fr. L. altus. See Altitude.]
obsequious a.: Promptly obedient, or submissive, to the will of another; compliant; yielding to the desires of another; devoted. [L.obsequiosus, fr. obsequium compliance, fr. obsequi, fr. obsequi: cf. F. obséquieux, See Obsequent, and cf. Obsequy.]
deftly adv.: Aptly; fitly; dexterously; neatly. [Cf. Defly.]
greenhorn n.: A raw, inexperienced person; one easily imposed upon. W.
await v. t.: To watch for; to look out for. [OF. awaitier, agaitier; (L. ad) + waitier, gaitier to watch, F. guetter. See Wait.]
caress n.: An act of endearment; any act or expression of affection; an embracing, or touching, with tenderness. [F. caresse, It. carezza, LL. caritia dearness, fr. L. carus dear. See Charity.]
titillate v. t.: To tickle; as, to titillate the nose with a feather. [L. titillatus, p.p. of titillare.]
inveterate a.: Old; long-established. [L. inveteratus, p. p. of inveterare to render old; pref. in- in + vetus, veteris, old. See Veteran.]
annihilate v. t.: To reduce to nothing or nonexistence; to destroy the existence of; to cause to cease to be. [L. annihilare; ad + nihilum, nihil, nothing, ne hilum (filum) not a thread, nothing at all. Cf. File, a row.]
bitterly adv.: In a bitter manner.
pathway n.: A footpath; a beaten track; any path or course. Also used figuratively.
eternally adv.: In an eternal manner.
spouse v. t.: To wed; to espouse. [See Espouse, and Spouse, n.]
morn n.: The first part of the day; the morning; -- used chiefly in poetry. [OE. morwen, morgen, AS. morgen; akin to D. morgen, OS. morgan, G. morgen, Icel. morginn, morgunn, Sw. morgon, Dan. morgen, Goth. maúrgins. Cf. Morrow, Morning.]
valet n.: A male waiting servant; a servant who attends on gentleman's person; a body servant. [F. valet, OF. vallet, varlet, vaslet. See Varlet, and Vassal.]
whither adv.: To what place; -- used interrogatively; as, whither goest thou [OE. whider. AS. hwider; akin to E. where, who; cf. Goth. hvadre whither. See Who, and cf. Hither, Thither.]
rapscallion n.: A rascal; a good-for-nothing fellow. Howitt. [See Rascallion.]
flit a.: Nimble; quick; swift. See Fleet.
matutinal a.: Of or pertaining to the morning; early. [L. matutinalis, matutinus: cf. F. matutinal. See Matin.]
boulevard n.: Originally, a bulwark or rampart of fortification or fortified town. [F. boulevard, boulevart, fr. G. bollwerk. See Bulwark.]
sleepless a.: Having no sleep; wakeful.
chime n.: The harmonious sound of bells, or of musical instruments. [OE. chimbe, prop., cymbal, OF. cymbe, cymble, in a dialectic form, chymble, F. cymbale, L. cymbalum, fr. Gr. Cymbal.]
champagne n.: A light wine, of several kinds, originally made in the province of Champagne, in France. [F. See Champaign.]
cuisine n.: The kitchen or cooking department. [F., fr. L. coquina kitchen, fr. coquere to cook. See Kitchen.]
torturer n.: One who tortures; a tormentor.
theatre n.: An edifice in which dramatic performances or spectacles are exhibited for the amusement of spectators; anciently uncovered, except the stage, but in modern times roofed. [F. thé\'83tre, L. theatrum, Gr. dhya to meditate, think. Cf. Theory.]
dauntless a.: Incapable of being daunted; undaunted; bold; fearless; intrepid.
donative n.: A gift; a largess; a gratuity; a present. [L. donativum, fr. donare: cf. F. donatif. See Donate.]
glorious a.: Exhibiting attributes, qualities, or acts that are worthy of or receive glory; noble; praiseworthy; excellent; splendid; illustrious; inspiring admiration; as, glorious deeds. [OF. glorios, glorious, F. glorieux, fr. L. gloriosus. See Glory, n.]
sometime adv.: At a past time indefinitely referred to; once; formerly.
ballet n.: An artistic dance performed as a theatrical entertainment, or an interlude, by a number of persons, usually women. Sometimes, a scene accompanied by pantomime and dancing. [F., a dim. of bal dance. See 2d Ball, n.]
conjure v. t.: To call on or summon by a sacred name or in solemn manner; to implore earnestly; to adjure. [F. conjurer, fr. L. conjurare to swear together, to conspire; con- + jurare to swear. See Jury.]
terpsichore n.: The Muse who presided over the choral song and the dance, especially the latter.
impatiently adv.: In an impatient manner.
lithe v. i.: To listen or listen to; to hearken to. P. Plowman. [Icel Listen.]
curious a.: Difficult to please or satisfy; solicitous to be correct; careful; scrupulous; nice; exact. [OF. curios, curius, F. curieux, L. curiosus careful, inquisitive, fr. cura care. See Cure.]
madly adv.: In a mad manner; without reason or understanding; wildly. [From Mad, a.]
steed n.: A horse, especially a spirited horse for state of war; -- used chiefly in poetry or stately prose. [OE. stede, AS. steda a stud-horse, war horse, fr. stod a stud of breeding steeds; akin to G. stute a mare, Icel. stedda, sto, a stud. *163. See Stud of horses.]
irksome a.: Wearisome; tedious; disagreeable or troublesome by reason of long continuance or repetition; as, irksome hours; irksome tasks.
affluence n.: A flowing to or towards; a concourse; an influx. [F. affluence, L. affluentia, fr. affluens, p. pr. of affluere to flow to; ad + fluere to flow. See Flux.]
amusement n.: Deep thought; muse. [Cf. F. amusement.]
enclose v. t.: To inclose. See Inclose. [F. enclos, p. p. of enclore to enclose; pref. en- (L. in) + clore to close. See Close, and cf. Inclose, Include.]
grimm a.: Of forbidding or fear-inspiring aspect; fierce; stern; surly; cruel; frightful; horrible.
industrious a.: Given to industry; characterized by diligence; constantly, regularly, or habitually occupied; busy; assiduous; not slothful or idle; -- commonly implying devotion to lawful and useful labor. [L. industrius, industriosus: cf. F. industrieux. See Industry.]
pedantical a.: Of or pertaining to a pedant; characteristic of, or resembling, a pedant; ostentatious of learning; as, a pedantic writer; a pedantic description; a pedantical affectation.
artistical a.: Of or pertaining to art or to artists; made in the manner of an artist; conformable to art; characterized by art; showing taste or skill. [Cf. F. artistique, fr. artiste.]
vest n.: An article of clothing covering the person; an outer garment; a vestment; a dress; a vesture; a robe. [L. vestis a garment, vesture; akin to Goth. wasti, and E. wear: cf. F. veste. See Wear to carry on the person, and cf. Divest, Invest, Travesty.]
russ n.: A Russian, or the Russians.
intersperse v. t.: To scatter or set here and there among other things; to insert at intervals; as, to intersperse pictures in a book. [L. interspersus interspersed; inter between, among + spargere to scatter. See Sparse.]
lustre n.: A period of five years; a lustrum. [L. lustrum: cf. F. lustre.]
mansion n.: A dwelling place, -- whether a part or whole of a house or other shelter. [OF. mansion, F. maison, fr. L. mansio a staying, remaining, a dwelling, habitation, fr. manere, mansum, to stay, dwell; akin to Gr. Manse, Manor, Menagerie, Men]
cavalier n.: A military man serving on horseback; a knight. [F. cavalier, It. cavaliere, LL. caballarius, fr. L. caballus. See Cavalcade, and cf. Cavallier, Caballine.]
dote n.: A marriage portion. See 1st Dot, n. Wyatt. [See Dot dowry.]
betimes adv.: In good season or time; before it is late; seasonably; early. [Pref. be- (for by) + time; that is, by the proper time. The -s is an adverbial ending.]
raze n.: A Shakespearean word (used once) supposed to mean the same as race, a root. [See Rack.]
dreary a.: Sorrowful; distressful. [OE. dreori, dreri, AS. dreórig, sad; akin to G. traurig, and prob. to AS. dreósan to fall, Goth. driusan. Cf. Dross, Drear, Drizzle, Drowse.]
admirable a.: Fitted to excite wonder; wonderful; marvelous. [L. admirabilis: cf. F. admirable.]
untold a.: Not told; not related; not revealed; as, untold secrets.
fender n.: One who or that which defends or protects by warding off harm; as: (a) A screen to prevent coals or sparks of an open fire from escaping to the floor. [From Fend, v. t. & i., cf. Defender.]
springtime n.: The season of spring; springtide.
rushed a.: Abounding or covered with rushes.
billow n.: A great wave or surge of the sea or other water, caused usually by violent wind. [Cf. Icel. bylgja billow, Dan. bölge, Sw. bölja; akin to MHG. bulge billow, bag, and to E. bulge. See Bulge.]
admired a.: Regarded with wonder and delight; highly prized; as, an admired poem.
loveliness n.: The state or quality of being lovely. [From Lovely.]
tore n.: The dead grass that remains on mowing land in winter and spring. Mortimer. [Probably from the root of tear; cf. W. tór a break, cut, tóri to break, cut.]
tattling a.: Given to idle talk; apt to tell tales.
shopman n.: A shopkeeper; a retailer.
bourse n.: An exchange, or place where merchants, bankers, etc., meet for business at certain hours; esp., the Stock Exchange of Paris. [F. bourse purse, exchange, LL. bursa, fr. Gr.Purse, Burse.]
cabman n.: The driver of a cab.
afternoon n.: The part of the day which follows noon, between noon and evening.
amidst prep.: In the midst or middle of; surrounded or encompassed by; among. [OE. amidde, amiddes, on midden, AS. on middan, in the middle, fr. midde the middle. The s is an adverbial ending, originally marking the genitive; the t is a la]
blandishment n.: The act of blandishing; a word or act expressive of affection or kindness, and tending to win the heart; soft words and artful caresses; cajolery; allurement. [Cf. OF. blandissement.]
hateful a.: Manifesting hate or hatred; malignant; malevolent.
curst a.: Froward; malignant; mischievous; malicious; snarling. [SeeCurse.]
irrigate v. t.: To water; to wet; to moisten with running or dropping water; to bedew. [L. irrigatus, p. p. of irrigare to irrigate: ir- in + rigare to water; prob. akin to E. rain. See Rain.]
aching a.: That aches; continuously painful. See Ache.
malady n.: Any disease of the human body; a distemper, disorder, or indisposition, proceeding from impaired, defective, or morbid organic functions; especially, a lingering or deep-seated disorder. [F. maladie, fr. malade ill, sick, OF. also, malabde, fr. L. male habitus, i. e., ill-kept, not in good condition. See Malice, and Habit.]
ween v. i.: To think; to imagine; to fancy. [OE. wenen, AS. w, fr. w hope, expectation, opinion; akin to D. waan, OFries. w, OS. & OHG. wan, G. wahn delusion, Icel. van hope, expectation, Goth. w, and D. w]
clime n.: A climate; a tract or region of the earth. See Climate. [L. clima. See Climate.]
childe n.: A cognomen formerly prefixed to his name by the oldest son, until he succeeded to his ancestral titles, or was knighted; as, Childe Roland.
courtly a.: Relating or belonging to a court. [From Court.]
latterly adv.: Lately; of late; recently; at a later, as distinguished from a former, period.
vacuity n.: The quality or state of being vacuous, or not filled; emptiness; vacancy; as, vacuity of mind; vacuity of countenance. [L. vacuitas. See Vacuous.]
dishonest a.: Dishonorable; shameful; indecent; unchaste; lewd. [Pref. dis- + honest: cf. F. déshonnête, OF. deshoneste.]
drape v. t.: To cover or adorn with drapery or folds of cloth, or as with drapery; as, to drape a bust, a building, etc. [F. draper, fr. drap cloth. See 3d Drab.]
taffety n.: A fine, smooth stuff of silk, having usually the wavy luster called watering. The term has also been applied to different kinds of silk goods, from the 16th century to modern times. [F. taffetas, It. taffetà, from Per. taftah, originally, twisted, woven, from taftan to twist, to spin.]
incensed a.: Angered; enraged.
satiate a.: Filled to satiety; glutted; sated; -- followed by with or of. [L. satiatus, p. p. of satiare to satisfy, from sat, satis, enough. See Sad, a., and cf. Sate.]
despise v. t.: To look down upon with disfavor or contempt; to contemn; to scorn; to disdain; to have a low opinion or contemptuous dislike of. [OF. despis-, in some forms of despire to despise, fr. L. despicere, despectum, to look down upon, despise; de- + spicere, specere, to look. See Spy, and cf. Des]
ofttimes adv.: Frequently; often. [Oft + time. Cf. -wards.]
relentless a.: Unmoved by appeals for sympathy or forgiveness; insensible to the distresses of others; destitute of tenderness; unrelenting; unyielding; unpitying; as, a prey to relentless despotism.
beamed a.: Furnished with beams, as the head of a stag.
firmament n.: Fixed foundation; established basis. [L. firmamentum, fr. firmare to make firm: cf. F. firmament. See Firm, v. & a.]
impressionable a.: Liable or subject to impression; capable of being molded; susceptible; impressible. [Cf. F. impressionnable.]
balmy a.: Having the qualities of balm; odoriferous; aromatic; assuaging; soothing; refreshing; mild.
greenwood n.: A forest as it appears is spring and summer.
coping n.: The highest or covering course of masonry in a wall, often with sloping edges to carry off water; -- sometimes called capping. Gwill. [See Cope, n.]
afar adv.: At, to, or from a great distance; far away; -- often used with from preceding, or off following; as, he was seen from afar; I saw him afar off. [Pref. a-.(for on or of) + far.]
delightedly adv.: With delight; gladly.
deem v. t.: To decide; to judge; to sentence; to condemn. [OE. demen to judge, condemn, AS. d, fr. d doom; akin to OFries. d, OS. ad, D. doemen, OHG. tuommen, Icel. dæma, Sw. dömma, Dan. dömme, Goth. d. See Doom, n., an]
reticent a.: Inclined to keep silent; reserved; uncommunicative. [L. reticens, p. pr. of reticere to keep silence; re- + tacere to be silent. See Tacit.]
whilom adv.: Formerly; once; of old; erewhile; at times. [AS. hwilum, properly, at times, dative pl. of hwil; akin to G. weiland formerly, OHG. hwilm, See While, n.]
beckon v. t.: To make a significant sign to; hence, to summon, as by a motion of the hand.
sunny a.: Of or pertaining to the sun; proceeding from, or resembling the sun; hence, shining; bright; brilliant; radiant.
bequeath v. t.: To give or leave by will; to give by testament; -- said especially of personal property. [OE. biquethen, AS. becwe to say, affirm, bequeath; pref. be- + cwe to say, speak. See Quoth.]
went n.: Course; way; path; journey; direction.
flown a.: Flushed, inflated.
delighted a.: Endowed with delight.
oaken a.: Made or consisting of oaks or of the wood of oaks. [AS. acen.]
rill n.: A very small brook; a streamlet. [Cf. LG. rille a small channel or brook, a furrow, a chamfer, OE. rigol a small brook, F. rigole a trench or furrow for water, W. rhill a row, rhigol a little di]
ennui n.: A feeling of weariness and disgust; dullness and languor of spirits, arising from satiety or want of interest; tedium. T. Gray. [F., fr. L. in odio in hatred. See Annoy.]
dogged a.: Sullen; morose. [Fron. Dog.]
idealize v. t.: To make ideal; to give an ideal form or value to; to attribute ideal characteristics and excellences to; as, to idealize real life.
adore v. t.: To worship with profound reverence; to pay divine honors to; to honor as deity or as divine. [OE. aouren, anouren, adoren, OF. aorer, adorer, F. adorer, fr. L. adorare; ad + orare to speak, pray, os, oris, mouth. In OE. confused with honor, the French pr]
amongst prep.: Mixed or mingled; surrounded by. [OE. amongist, amonges, amonge, among, AS. onmang, ongemang, gemang, in a crowd or mixture. For the ending -st see Amidst. See Mingle.]
inscribe v. t.: To write or engrave; to mark down as something to be read; to imprint. [L. inscribere. See 1st In-, and Scribe.]
cull v. t.: To separate, select, or pick out; to choose and gather or collect; as, to cuil flowers. [OE., OF. cuillir, coillir, F.cueillir, to gather, pluck, pick, fr. L. colligere. See Coil, v. t., and cf. Collect.]
canto n.: One of the chief divisions of a long poem; a book. [It. canto, fr. L. cantus singing, song. See Chant.]
tittle n.: A particle; a minute part; a jot; an iota. [OE. titel, titil, apparently a dim. of tit, in the sense of small; cf. G. tüttel a tittle, dim. of OHG. tutta teat. Perhaps, however, the same word as title, n.]
censorship n.: The office or power of a censor; as, to stand for a censorship.
journalistic a.: Pertaining to journals or to journalists; contained in, or characteristic of, the public journals; as journalistic literature or enterprise.
deglutition n.: The act or process of swallowing food; the power of swallowing. [L. deglutire to swallow down; de- + glutire to swallow: cf. F. déglutition. See Glut.]
meed v. t.: To reward; to repay. Waytt.
misunderstanding n.: Mistake of the meaning; error; misconception.

Definitions and etymologies from Webster's Unabridged Dictionary, 1913.

About this text

Canto I is in the public domain. This text is taken from Eugene Onegin, Project Gutenberg ebook #23997, the Henry Spalding translation; the transcription's header, footer and licence were removed and nothing else was changed. You may copy, print and reuse it freely.

Cite as: Alexander Pushkin, Canto I, in Eugene Onegin (1881), text of Project Gutenberg ebook #23997, Laurel, https://laurelpoetry.com/poem/eugene-onegin/canto-i.html, id L14405.

Form and metre

Canto I is 771 lines in 60 stanzas. The metre is iambic tetrameter, measured from the stress the words themselves fix (confidence 87%). 92% of its stressed syllables fall where the metre puts the beat. The lines average 8.2 syllables. 120 lines end on an unstressed syllable, a feminine ending. 34% of the lines run on without a stop at the line end.

See other poems in iambic tetrameter.

Measured by Laurel's pipeline, not copied from a handbook: how stress and metre are counted, how rhyme is lettered, how a drifted rhyme is found. Where the dictionary cannot confirm a rhyme the letter is withheld, not guessed.

Rhyme words, stanza by stanza

The word that ends each line, lettered by the rhyme it makes; a dash is a line whose rhyme the dictionary could not confirm.

1 ABABCCDDEFFEGG extreme^A · disease^B · esteem^A · sees^B · he^C · be^C · day^D · away^D · base^E · soothe^F · smooth^F · face^E · alone^G · own^G
2 ABABCCDDEFFEGG drove^A · pace^B · jove^A · race^B · ruslan^C · man^C · prevarication^D · narration^D · readers^E · where^F · there^F · leaders^E · old^G · cold^G
3 ABABCCDDEFFE-- truly^A · ran^B · duly^A · man^B · preserved^C · observed^C · place^D · grace^D · gaul^E · annoy^F · boy^F · all^E · reprove · rove
4 ABABCCDDE--EFF near^A · trace^B · fear^A · chase^B · air^C · hair^C · he^D · see^D · allowed^E · perfectly · gracefully · bowed^E · replies^F · wise^F
5 ABAB---A--ACC education^A · obtained^B · reputation^A · attained^B · deemed · like · trick · conversation^A · theme · him · disputation^A · joke^C · provoke^C
6 ABAB--CCDEEDFF vogue^A · relate^B · rogue^A · translate^B · spout · note · recollect^C · incorrect^C · pleasure^D · earth^E · worth^E · treasure^D · lay^F · day^F
7 ABABCCDDEFFEGG he^A · curse^B · choree^A · verse^B · jeered^C · appeared^C · great^D · elucidate^D · unfold^E · less^F · possess^F · gold^E · understands^G · lands^G
8 ABABCCDDEFFEGG knew^A · dwell^B · who^A · excel^B · boy^C · joy^C · away^D · day^D · warm^E · immortalized^F · agonized^F · storm^E · lone^G · own^G
9 A--BABA predicament^A · plead · ovid · consigned^B · discontent^A · mind^B · sent^A
11 A-A---BB-CC-DD art^A · jealousy · impart^A · be · subservient · indifferent · show^B · glow^B · spoke · again^C · feign^C · look · tear^D · appear^D
12 ABAB--CCDEED-- part^A · fair^B · art^A · despair^B · espy · modesty · address^C · caress^C · pray^D · beating^E · meeting^E · delay^D · solitude · understood
13 A-AABB--C--CDD titillate^A · flirt · annihilate^A · expert^A · malign^B · line^B · ye · eternally · who^C · schooled · old · too^C · life^D · wife^D
15 ABAB--BBC--CDD lay^A · three^B · day^A · be^B · treat · flit · see^B · three^B · dress^C · bolivar · boulevard · idleness^C · chime^D · time^D
16 ABABCCDDEFFEGG sleigh^A · forth^B · way^A · north^B · where^C · repair^C · arose^D · flows^D · seen^E · eyes^F · pies^F · cuisine^E · old^G · gold^G
18 ABABCCDDEFFEGG compels^A · grease^B · tells^A · piece^B · malicious^C · capricious^C · citizen^D · scene^D · repairs^E · stands^F · hands^F · scares^E · alone^G · tone^G
19 -A-ABB---CC-DD formerly · king^A · liberty · copying^A · there^B · share^B · donative · revive · genius · out^C · rout^C · glorious · shade^D · played^D
22 A-A-BBCCDEEDFF shades^A · sighs · maids^A · joys · anew^B · review^B · dance^C · glance^C · changed^D · direct^E · recollect^E · estranged^D · yawn^F · dawn^F
23 ABABCCDDECCE-- lamps^A · blaze^B · stamps^A · raise^B · strings^C · springs^C · surrounding^D · bounding^D · tip^E · swings^C · springs^C · lip^E · o'er · floor
24 ABABCDBBECDE-- passes^A · toes^B · glasses^A · throws^B · glance^C · countenance^D · shows^B · bows^B · fall^E · glance^C · countenance^D · all^E · bored · endured
25 ABAB-C--DCCDEE shout^A · sweep^B · without^A · sleep^B · cease · sneeze^C · within · shine · stands^D · tires^C · fires^C · hands^D · press^E · dress^E
26 ABABCCDDEFFEGG depict^A · den^B · strict^A · again^B · brings^C · things^C · waves^D · craves^D · taste^E · trade^F · made^F · waste^E · eugene^G · eighteen^G
27 ABAB--BBCDDCEE weight^A · glows^B · effeminate^A · enclose^B · steel · well · brushes^B · tushes^B · passing^C · grimm^D · him^D · surpassing^C · laws^E · was^E
28 ABABCC---DD-EE alive^A · nails^B · strive^A · prevails^B · mine^C · malign^C · call · pedantical · he · glass^D · pass^D · capriciously · masquerade^E · arrayed^E
29 ABABCC--DEEDFF retreat^A · interest^B · repeat^A · dressed^B · dare^C · affair^C · coat · not · verse^D · sin^E · origin^E · intersperse^D · come^F · thumb^F
30 -ABACCBBDEED-B now · haste^A · go^B · placed^A · streets^C · fleets^C · row^B · snow^B · hues^D · gate^E · illuminate^E · views^D · knows · beaux^B
31 ABABCC--D--DEE alight^A · stair^B · flight^A · hair^B · crowd^C · loud^C · occupies · noise · clash^D · fly · espy · flash^D · sound^E · drowned^E
32 ABAB--CC----DD delight^A · dote^B · invite^A · note^B · spouse · arouse · rhymes^C · betimes^C · use · eye · constantly · knows · because^D · laws^D
33 ABABCCDDE--EFF fly^A · vain^B · i^A · again^B · delight^C · light^C · dress^D · ne'ertheless^D · find^E · feet · forget · mind^E · seems^F · dreams^F
34 ABAB--CCDEEDFF land^A · raze^B · strand^A · graze^B · luxury · by · snows^C · repose^C · wrought^D · cause^E · applause^E · lot^D · e'en^F · green^F
35 ABABCCDD-EE-FF cheeks^A · friend^B · bespeaks^A · end^B · reveal^C · conceal^C · fire^D · desire^D · elvine · white^E · bright^E · green · floor^F · shore^F
36 ABABCCDDEFFEGG day^A · tall^B · array^A · fall^B · desired^C · admired^C · blaze^D · days^D · desire^E · press^F · loveliness^F · fire^E · tore^G · before^G
37 ABABCCDDEFFEGG fate^A · stand^B · fortunate^A · hand^B · blazed^C · raised^C · heart^D · smart^D · praise^E · lyre^F · fire^F · raise^E · sweet^G · feet^G
38 A-A-BB--CBBCDD asleep^A · goes · deep^A · arouse · rise^B · plies^B · speeds · treads · sound^C · skies^B · rise^B · around^C · head^D · bread^D
39 ABABCCDD-EE-FF night^A · noise^B · delight^A · enjoys^B · rise^C · lies^C · gay^D · yesterday^D · content · spring^E · flattering^E · blandishment · fare^F · care^F
40 -A-ABBCCDEEDFF abated · became^A · agitated · flame^A · worst^B · curst^B · gourmandise^C · pies^C · champagne^D · spread^E · head^E · scatterbrain^D · delight^F · fight^F
41 ABABCCDD-EEFFF ween^A · time^B · spleen^A · clime^B · mind^C · designed^C · ball^D · all^D · gloomily · repairs^E · affairs^E · sigh^F · degree^F · be^F
42 -A-ABBCCDEED-- grace · own^A · class · grown^A · may^B · say^B · call^C · nonsensical^C · vice^D · correct^E · circumspect^E · prejudice^D · men · spleen
43 ABABCCDD-EE-FF fair^A · meets^B · air^A · streets^B · flight^C · delight^C · men^D · pen^D · long · so^E · flow^E · among · blame^F · became^F
44 ABABCCDDEFFEGG consigned^A · desire^B · mind^A · acquire^B · obtain^C · vain^C · seems^D · deems^D · bear^E · gave^F · rave^F · fair^E · drape^G · crape^G
45 A-A-BBCCDEEDFF men^A · vanity · then^A · me · meditation^B · imagination^B · had^C · sad^C · satiate^D · tired^E · fired^E · hate^D · betrays^F · days^F
46 ABAB--CCD--DEE thinks^A · last^B · shrinks^A · past^B · soothe · tooth · stings^C · brings^C · conversation^D · abhorred · inured · observation^D · vicious^E · malicious^E
47 ABABCCDDEAAEFF night^A · beamed^B · light^A · gleamed^B · rays^C · days^C · romance^D · trance^D · hour^E · night^A · delight^A · tower^E · thought^F · sought^F
48 -A-ABBCCD--DEE mood · bent^A · stood · leant^A · cries^B · arise^B · afar^C · car^C · borne^D · by · delightedly · horn^D · dream^E · deem^E
49 ABABCC--DEEDFF sea^A · meet^B · me^A · greet^B · inspire^C · lyre^C · sympathy · italy · firmament^D · shade^E · maid^E · reticent^D · tongue^F · sung^F
50 ABABCC--DEEDFF come^A · gales^B · roam^A · sails^B · sea^C · free^C · o'er · shore · mind^D · strand^E · land^E · behind^D · dart^F · heart^F
51 ABABCCDDEFFE-- start^A · clime^B · apart^A · time^B · died^C · beside^C · rout^D · shout^D · litigation^E · content^F · consent^F · deprivation^E · death · bequeath
52 ABABCCDDEFFEGG day^A · tell^B · lay^A · farewell^B · document^C · went^C · side^D · dissatisfied^D · alone^E · wail^F · tale^F · flown^E · laid^G · paid^G
53 ABABCCDDEFFEGG sees^A · around^B · enemies^A · abound^B · rest^C · guest^C · away^D · day^D · lord^E · lakes^F · takes^F · abhorred^E · ways^G · days^G
54 ABABCCDDE--EFF change^A · still^B · range^A · rill^B · mead^C · heed^C · doze^D · arose^D · dwell^E · streets · fêtes · sentinel^E · life^F · wife^F
55 ABABCCDD-EE-FF made^A · dreams^B · shade^A · teems^B · dote^C · float^C · take^D · awake^D · liberty · read^E · heed^E · i · joy^F · employ^F
56 A-A-B-CC-DDBEE idleness^A · been · express^A · eugene · or^B · editor · intellect^C · detect^C · declare · tried^D · pride^D · were^B · elf^E · self^E
57 -A-ABBCCDEEDFF are · inclined^A · fair · mind^A · lived^B · revived^B · portrayed^C · maid^C · shore^D · wise^E · rise^E · adore^D · throng^F · song^F
58 ABABCCDDEFFEGG inspiration^A · recognized^B · incantation^A · immortalized^B · above^C · love^C · respite^D · unite^D · impart^E · song^F · along^F · heart^E · cull^G · dull^G
59 -A-ABBCC-DD-EE by · brought^A · idolatry · thought^A · away^B · portray^B · incomplete^C · feet^C · blaze · shed^D · fled^D · efface · strive^E · five^E
60 ABAB--CCDEEDFF plan^A · advance^B · can^A · romance^B · eye · absurdity · tittle^C · little^C · deglutition^D · severe^E · appear^E · composition^D · bestows^F · blows^F

Scansion, line by line

Each line with its syllable count and the stresses the words themselves fix: / stressed, ˘ unstressed, · a syllable the word leaves free and the metre decides. Read against iambic tetrameter. How this is done.

Line	Syl.	Stress
“My uncle’s goodness is extreme,	8	·/˘/˘·˘/
If seriously he hath disease;	8	·/˘˘··˘/
He hath acquired the world’s esteem	8	··˘/··˘/
And nothing more important sees;	8	·/˘·˘/˘·
A paragon of virtue he!	8	·/˘··/˘·
But what a nuisance it will be,	8	···/˘···
Chained to his bedside night and day	8	···/····
Without a chance to slip away.	8	······˘/
Ye need dissimulation base	5	·····
A dying man with art to soothe,	8	·/˘·····
Beneath his head the pillow smooth,	8	·····/˘·
And physic bring with mournful face,	8	·/˘··/˘·
To sigh and meditate alone:	8	···/˘·˘/
When will the devil take his own!”	8	···/˘···
Thus mused a madcap young, who drove	8	···/····
Through clouds of dust at postal pace,	8	·····/˘·
By the decree of Mighty Jove,	8	··˘/·/˘·
Inheritor of all his race.	8	˘/˘˘····
Friends of Liudmila and Ruslan,	8	······/˘
Let me present ye to the man,	8	··/˘····
Who without more prevarication	9	····˘·˘/˘
The hero is of my narration!	9	·/˘···˘/˘
Onéguine, O my gentle readers,	9	·····/˘/˘
Was born beside the Neva, where	8	··˘/·/˘·
It may be ye were born, or there	8	········
Have shone as one of fashion’s leaders.	9	·····/˘/˘
I also wandered there of old,	8	·/˘/˘···
But cannot stand the northern cold.	8	·/˘··/˘·
Having performed his service truly,	9	/˘˘/·/˘/˘
Deep into debt his father ran;	8	·····/˘·
Three balls a year he gave ye duly,	9	·······/˘
At last became a ruined man.	8	··˘/·/˘·
But Eugene was by fate preserved,	8	·/˘···˘/
For first “madame” his wants observed,	8	··˘/··˘/
And then “monsieur” supplied her place;	8	··˘/˘/··
The boy was wild but full of grace.	8	········
“Monsieur l’Abbé” a starving Gaul,	7	˘/··/˘·
Fearing his pupil to annoy,	8	/˘·/˘·˘/
Instructed jestingly the boy,	8	˘/˘/˘˘··
Morality taught scarce at all;	8	˘/˘˘····
Gently for pranks he would reprove	8	/˘····˘/
And in the Summer Garden rove.	8	···/˘/˘·
When youth’s rebellious hour drew near	8	··˘/˘/··
And my Eugene the path must trace—	8	··˘/····
The path of hope and tender fear—	8	·····/˘·
Monsieur clean out of doors they chase.	8	˘/······
Lo! my Onéguine free as air,	8	········
Cropped in the latest style his hair,	8	···/˘···
Dressed like a London dandy he	8	···/˘/˘·
The giddy world at last shall see.	8	·/˘·····
He wrote and spoke, so all allowed,	8	······˘/
In the French language perfectly,	8	···/˘/˘˘
Danced the mazurka gracefully,	8	·····/˘˘
Without the least constraint he bowed.	8	····˘/··
What more’s required? The world replies,	9	·/·˘/··˘/
He is a charming youth and wise.	8	···/˘···
We all of us of education	9	······˘/˘
A something somehow have obtained,	8	·/˘/··˘/
Thus, praised be God! a reputation	9	······˘/˘
With us is easily attained.	8	···/˘˘˘/
Onéguine was—so many deemed	8	·····/˘·
Pedantic although scholar like,	8	˘/˘··/˘·
In truth he had the happy trick	8	·····/˘·
Without constraint in conversation	9	··˘/··˘/˘
Of touching lightly every theme.	8	·/˘/˘/˘·
Silent, oracular ye’d see him	9	/˘˘/˘˘···
Amid a serious disputation,	9	˘/·/˘˘//˘
Then suddenly discharge a joke	8	·/˘˘˘/··
The ladies’ laughter to provoke.	8	·/·/˘·˘/
Latin is just now not in vogue,	8	/˘······
But if the truth I must relate,	8	······˘/
Onéguine knew enough, the rogue	8	····˘/··
A mild quotation to translate,	8	··˘/˘·˘/
A little Juvenal to spout,	8	·/˘/˘˘··
With “vale” finish off a note;	7	··/˘···
Two verses he could recollect	8	·/˘···˘/
Of the Æneid, but incorrect.	7	····˘˘/
In history he took no pleasure,	9	·/˘˘···/˘
The dusty chronicles of earth	8	·/˘/˘˘··
For him were but of little worth,	8	·····/˘·
Yet still of anecdotes a treasure	9	···/˘··/˘
Within his memory there lay,	8	···/˘˘··
From Romulus unto our day.	8	·/˘˘··/·
For empty sound the rascal swore he	9	·/˘··/˘··
Existence would not make a curse,	8	˘/˘·····
Knew not an iamb from a choree,	9	···/˘··˘/
Although we read him heaps of verse.	8	········
Homer, Theocritus, he jeered,	8	/˘·····˘
But Adam Smith to read appeared,	8	·/˘···˘/
And at economy was great;	8	··˘/˘˘··
That is, he could elucidate	8	····˘/˘·
How empires store of wealth unfold,	8	·/˘···˘/
How flourish, why and wherefore less	8	·/˘··/˘·
If the raw product they possess	8	···/˘·˘/
The medium is required of gold.	8	·/˘·˘/··
The father scarcely understands	8	·/˘/˘·˘/
His son and mortgages his lands.	8	···/˘˘··
But upon all that Eugene knew	8	·····˘/·
I have no leisure here to dwell,	8	···/˘···
But say he was a genius who	8	·····/˘·
In one thing really did excel.	8	···/˘·˘/
It occupied him from a boy,	8	·/˘·····
A labour, torment, yet a joy,	8	·/·/····
It whiled his idle hours away	8	···/˘/˘/
And wholly occupied his day—	8	·/˘/˘···
The amatory science warm,	8	·/˘˘˘/˘·
Which Ovid once immortalized,	8	····˘/˘˘
For which the poet agonized	8	···/˘/˘·
Laid down his life of sun and storm	8	········
On the steppes of Moldavia lone,	8	·····/˘·
Far from his Italy—his own.	8	···/˘˘··
Pushkin, then residing in Bessarabia, was in the same predicament	18	/˘·˘/˘·········˘/˘
as his predecessor in song, though he certainly did not plead	15	··/˘·˘····/˘···
guilty to the fact, since he remarks in his ode to Ovid:	15	/˘·····˘/······
To exile self-consigned,	7	·/··˘/˘
With self, society, existence, discontent,	10	··˘/˘˘/˘˘/
I visit in these days, with melancholy mind,	12	·/˘····/˘·˘·
The country whereunto a mournful age thee sent.	12	·/˘····/˘···
“Perdiderint quum me duo crimina, carmen et error,	16	······/˘···/˘·/˘
Alterius facti culpa silenda mihi est.”	14	·····/˘·····˘/
How soon he learnt deception’s art,	8	····˘/˘·
Hope to conceal and jealousy,	8	··˘/·/˘˘
False confidence or doubt to impart,	8	·/˘···˘/
Sombre or glad in turn to be,	8	/˘······
Haughty appear, subservient,	8	/˘˘/˘/˘˘
Obsequious or indifferent!	8	˘/˘˘·˘/˘
What languor would his silence show,	8	·/˘··/˘·
How full of fire his speech would glow!	8	···/····
How artless was the note which spoke	8	·/˘·····
Of love again, and yet again;	8	··˘/··˘/
How deftly could he transport feign!	8	·/˘··/˘·
How bright and tender was his look,	8	···/˘···
Modest yet daring! And a tear	8	/˘·/˘···
Would at the proper time appear.	8	···/˘·˘/
How well he played the greenhorn’s part	8	········
To cheat the inexperienced fair,	8	···˘˘/˘·
Sometimes by pleasing flattery’s art,	8	˘/·/˘/˘·
Sometimes by ready-made despair;	8	˘/·/˘·˘/
The feeble moment would espy	8	·/˘/˘·/˘
Of tender years the modesty	8	·/˘··/˘˘
Conquer by passion and address,	8	/˘·/˘·˘/
Await the long-delayed caress.	8	˘/··˘/˘/
Avowal then ’twas time to pray,	8	˘/˘·····
Attentive to the heart’s first beating,	9	˘/˘····/˘
Follow up love—a secret meeting	9	/˘···/˘/˘
Arrange without the least delay—	8	˘/····˘/
Then, then—well, in some solitude	8	·····/˘·
Lessons to give he understood!	8	/˘····˘/
How soon he learnt to titillate	8	·····/˘·
The heart of the inveterate flirt!	8	····˘/˘·
Desirous to annihilate	8	˘/˘·˘/˘·
His own antagonists expert,	8	··˘/˘˘/˘
How bitterly he would malign,	8	·/˘˘··˘/
With many a snare their pathway line!	8	·/···/··
But ye, O happy husbands, ye	8	···/˘/˘·
With him were friends eternally:	8	····˘/˘˘
The crafty spouse caressed him, who	8	·/˘·˘/··
By Faublas in his youth was schooled,	8	········
And the suspicious veteran old,	8	··˘/˘/˘·
The pompous, swaggering cuckold too,	8	·/˘/˘/˘·
Who floats contentedly through life,	8	··˘/˘˘··
Proud of his dinners and his wife!	8	···/˘···
loose character by Jean Baptiste Louvet de Couvray, b. 1760,	13	·/˘··˘/······
d. 1797, famous for his bold oration denouncing Robespierre,	15	·/˘···˘/˘˘/˘···
One morn whilst yet in bed he lay,	8	········
His valet brings him letters three.	8	·˘/··/˘·
What, invitations? The same day	8	··˘/˘···
As many entertainments be!	8	·/˘·˘/˘·
A ball here, there a children’s treat,	8	·····/˘·
Whither shall my rapscallion flit?	8	/˘··˘/˘·
Whither shall he go first? He’ll see,	8	/˘······
Perchance he will to all the three.	8	˘/······
Meantime in matutinal dress	8	/·······
And hat surnamed a “Bolivar”	8	··/··/˘˘
He hies unto the “Boulevard,”	8	·····/˘·
To loiter there in idleness	8	·/˘··/˘˘
Until the sleepless Bréguet chime	8	···/˘···
Announcing to him dinner-time.	8	˘/˘··/˘·
’Tis dark. He seats him in a sleigh,	8	········
“Drive on!” the cheerful cry goes forth,	8	···/˘···
His furs are powdered on the way	8	···/˘···
By the fine silver of the north.	8	···/˘···
He bends his course to Talon’s, where	8	·····/˘·
He knows Kaverine will repair.	8	······˘/
He enters. High the cork arose	8	·/˘···˘/
And Comet champagne foaming flows.	8	·/˘˘//˘·
Before him red roast beef is seen	8	········
And truffles, dear to youthful eyes,	8	·/˘··/˘·
Flanked by immortal Strasbourg pies,	8	··˘/˘/··
The choicest flowers of French cuisine,	8	·/˘/··˘/
And Limburg cheese alive and old	8	·/˘·˘/··
Is seen next pine-apples of gold.	8	····/˘··
“Within him daily see the the fires of punch and war,	13	···/˘···/····
Upon the fields of Mars a gallant warrior,	11	·······/˘/˘
A faithful friend to friends, of ladies torturer,	11	·/˘····/˘/˘
Still thirst fresh draughts of wine compels	8	······˘/
To cool the cutlets’ seething grease,	8	·····/˘·
When the sonorous Bréguet tells	8	··/˘˘···
Of the commencement of the piece.	8	··˘/˘···
A critic of the stage malicious,	9	·/˘···˘/˘
A slave of actresses capricious,	9	···/˘˘˘/˘
Onéguine was a citizen	8	·····/˘˘
Of the domains of the side-scene.	8	··˘/····
To the theatre he repairs	8	··/˘˘·˘/
Where each young critic ready stands,	8	···/˘/˘·
Capers applauds with clap of hands,	8	/˘˘/····
With hisses Cleopatra scares,	8	·/˘·˘/˘·
Moina recalls for this alone	8	/˘˘/··˘/
That all may hear his voice’s tone.	8	·····/˘·
Thou fairy-land! Where formerly	8	·/˘··/˘˘
Shone pungent Satire’s dauntless king,	8	·/˘/˘/˘·
Von Wisine, friend of liberty,	8	·····/˘˘
And Kniajnine, apt at copying.	8	·····/˘˘
The young Simeonova too there	8	········
With Ozeroff was wont to share	8	········
Applause, the people’s donative.	8	˘/·/˘/˘˘
There our Katènine did revive	8	·/····˘/
Corneille’s majestic genius,	7	··˘/˘/˘
Sarcastic Shakhovskoi brought out	8	˘/˘·····
His comedies, a noisy rout,	8	·/˘˘·/˘·
There Didelot became glorious,	9	····˘//˘˘
There, there, beneath the side-scene’s shade	8	········
The drama of my youth was played.	8	·/˘·····
French tragedy.	4	·/˘˘
Didelot, sometime Director of the ballet at the Opera at	17	···/·˘/˘··˘/··/˘·
My goddesses, where are your shades?	8	·/˘˘····
Do ye not hear my mournful sighs?	8	·····/˘·
Are ye replaced by other maids	8	···/·/˘·
Who cannot conjure former joys?	8	·/˘/˘/˘·
Shall I your chorus hear anew,	8	···/˘·˘/
Russia’s Terpsichore review	8	/˘˘/˘˘·/
Again in her ethereal dance?	8	˘/··˘/˘·
Or will my melancholy glance	8	···/˘·˘·
On the dull stage find all things changed,	8	········
The disenchanted glass direct	8	·˘˘/˘·˘/
Where I can no more recollect?—	8	······˘/
A careless looker-on estranged	8	·/˘/˘·˘/
In silence shall I sit and yawn	8	·/˘·····
And dream of life’s delightful dawn?	8	····˘/˘·
The house is crammed. A thousand lamps	8	·····/˘·
On pit, stalls, boxes, brightly blaze,	8	···/˘/˘·
Impatiently the gallery stamps,	8	˘/˘·/˘˘·
The curtain now they slowly raise.	8	·/˘··/˘·
Obedient to the magic strings,	8	˘/˘··/˘·
Brilliant, ethereal, there springs	8	/˘˘/˘˘··
Forth from the crowd of nymphs surrounding	9	······˘/˘
Istomina the nimbly-bounding;	9	·····/˘/˘
With one foot resting on its tip	8	···/˘···
Slow circling round its fellow swings	8	·/˘··/˘·
And now she skips and now she springs	8	········
Like down from Aeolus’s lip,	6	······
Now her lithe form she arches o’er	8	·····/˘·
And beats with rapid foot the floor.	8	···/˘···
Shouts of applause! Onéguine passes	9	··˘/···/˘
Between the stalls, along the toes;	8	····˘/··
Seated, a curious look with glasses	9	/˘·/˘··/˘
On unknown female forms he throws.	8	·˘//····
Free scope he yields unto his glance,	8	········
Reviews both dress and countenance,	8	˘/···/˘˘
With all dissatisfaction shows.	8	···˘˘/˘·
To male acquaintances he bows,	8	··˘/˘˘··
And finally he deigns let fall	8	·/˘˘····
Upon the stage his weary glance.	8	·····/˘·
He yawns, averts his countenance,	8	··˘/·/˘˘
Exclaiming, “We must change ’em all!	8	˘/˘·····
I long by ballets have been bored,	8	···˘/···
Now Didelot scarce can be endured!”	9	·······˘/
Snakes, satyrs, loves with many a shout	8	·····/··
Across the stage still madly sweep,	8	˘/···/˘·
Whilst the tired serving-men without	8	··//˘···
Wrapped in their sheepskins soundly sleep.	8	···/·/˘·
Still the loud stamping doth not cease,	8	···/˘···
Still they blow noses, cough, and sneeze,	8	···/˘···
Still everywhere, without, within,	8	·/˘·····
The lamps illuminating shine;	8	··˘/˘·˘·
The steed benumbed still pawing stands	8	··˘/·/˘·
And of the irksome harness tires,	9	···/˘/˘/˘
And still the coachmen round the fires	9	·······/˘
Abuse their masters, rub their hands:	8	˘/·/˘···
But Eugene long hath left the press	8	·˘/·····
To array himself in evening dress.	9	·˘/˘/·/˘·
Faithfully shall I now depict,	8	/˘˘···˘/
Portray the solitary den	8	˘/·/˘·˘·
Wherein the child of fashion strict	8	·····/˘·
Dressed him, undressed, and dressed again?	8	··˘/··˘/
All that industrial London brings	8	··˘/˘/˘·
For tallow, wood and other things	8	·/˘··/˘·
Across the Baltic’s salt sea waves,	8	˘/·/˘···
All which caprice and affluence craves,	8	··˘/·/˘·
All which in Paris eager taste,	8	···/˘/˘·
Choosing a profitable trade,	8	/˘·/˘˘˘·
For our amusement ever made	8	·/˘/˘/˘·
And ease and fashionable waste,—	8	···/˘˘˘·
Adorned the apartment of Eugene,	9	˘/·˘/˘·˘/
Philosopher just turned eighteen.	8	˘/˘˘··˘/
China and bronze the tables weight,	8	/˘···/˘·
Amber on pipes from Stamboul glows,	8	/˘······
And, joy of souls effeminate,	8	····˘/˘˘
Phials of crystal scents enclose.	7	··/˘·˘/
Combs of all sizes, files of steel,	8	···/˘···
Scissors both straight and curved as well,	8	/˘······
Of thirty different sorts, lo! brushes	9	·/˘/˘··/˘
Both for the nails and for the tushes.	9	·······/˘
Rousseau, I would remark in passing,	9	˘/··˘/·/˘
Could not conceive how serious Grimm	8	··˘/·/˘·
Dared calmly cleanse his nails ’fore him,	8	·/˘·····
Eloquent raver all-surpassing,—	9	/˘˘/˘·˘/˘
The friend of liberty and laws	8	···/˘˘··
In this case quite mistaken was.	8	····˘/˘·
The most industrious man alive	8	··˘/˘·˘/
May yet be studious of his nails;	8	···/˘···
What boots it with the age to strive?	8	········
Custom the despot soon prevails.	8	/˘·/˘·˘/
A new Kaverine Eugene mine,	8	·····˘/·
Dreading the world’s remarks malign,	8	/˘··˘/˘/
Was that which we are wont to call	8	········
A fop, in dress pedantical.	8	········
Three mortal hours per diem he	8	·/˘/˘···
Would loiter by the looking-glass,	8	·/˘··/˘·
And from his dressing-room would pass	8	···/˘···
Like Venus when, capriciously,	8	·/˘·˘/˘˘
The goddess would a masquerade	8	·/˘···˘/
Attend in male attire arrayed.	8	˘/··˘/˘/
On this artistical retreat	8	······˘/
Having once fixed your interest,	8	/˘··˘·/˘
I might to connoisseurs repeat	8	····˘/˘/
The style in which my hero dressed;	8	·····/˘·
Though I confess I hardly dare	8	··˘/·/˘·
Describe in detail the affair,	8	˘/·/˘·˘/
Since words like pantaloons, vest, coat,	8	···/˘···
To Russ indigenous are not;	8	··˘/˘˘··
And also that my feeble verse—	8	·/˘··/˘·
Pardon I ask for such a sin—	8	/˘······
With words of foreign origin	8	···/˘/˘˘
Too much I’m given to intersperse,	8	···/··˘/
Though to the Academy I come	8	···˘/˘··
And oft its Dictionary thumb.	8	···/˘·˘·
But such is not my project now,	8	·····/˘·
So let us to the ball-room haste,	8	········
Whither at headlong speed doth go	8	/˘·/····
Eugene in hackney carriage placed.	8	˘/·/˘/˘·
Past darkened windows and long streets	8	·/˘/˘···
Of slumbering citizens he fleets,	8	·/˘/˘˘··
Till carriage lamps, a double row,	8	·/˘··/˘·
Cast a gay lustre on the snow,	8	···/˘···
Which shines with iridescent hues.	8	····˘/˘·
He nears a spacious mansion’s gate,	8	···/˘/˘·
By many a lamp illuminate,	9	·/˘··˘/˘˘
And through the lofty windows views	8	···/˘/˘·
Profiles of lovely dames he knows	8	/··/˘···
And also fashionable beaux.	8	·/˘/˘˘˘·
Our hero stops and doth alight,	8	//˘···˘/
Flies past the porter to the stair,	8	···/˘···
But, ere he mounts the marble flight,	8	·····/˘·
With hurried hand smooths down his hair.	8	·/˘·····
He enters: in the hall a crowd,	8	·/˘·····
No more the music thunders loud,	8	···/˘/˘·
Some a mazurka occupies,	8	·····/˘·
Crushing and a confusing noise;	8	/˘··˘/˘·
Spurs of the Cavalier Guard clash,	8	····˘/··
The feet of graceful ladies fly,	8	···/˘/˘·
And following them ye might espy	9	·/˘˘···/˘
Full many a glance like lightning flash,	8	·/···/˘·
And by the fiddle’s rushing sound	8	···/˘/˘·
The voice of jealousy is drowned.	8	···/˘˘··
In my young days of wild delight	8	······˘/
On balls I madly used to dote,	8	···/˘···
Fond declarations they invite	8	··˘/˘·˘/
Or the delivery of a note.	8	··˘/˘···
So hearken, every worthy spouse,	8	·/˘/˘/˘·
I would your vigilance arouse,	8	···/˘˘˘/
Attentive be unto my rhymes	8	˘/˘·····
And due precautions take betimes.	8	··˘/˘···
Ye mothers also, caution use,	8	·/˘/˘/˘·
Upon your daughters keep an eye,	8	···/˘···
Employ your glasses constantly,	8	˘/·/˘/˘˘
For otherwise—God only knows!	8	·/˘··/˘·
I lift a warning voice because	8	···/˘···
I long have ceased to offend the laws.	9	·····˘/··
Alas! life’s hours which swiftly fly	8	˘/·/·/˘·
I’ve wasted in amusements vain,	8	·/˘·˘/˘·
But were it not immoral I	8	····˘/˘·
Should dearly like a dance again.	8	·/˘···˘/
I love its furious delight,	8	···/˘˘˘/
The crowd and merriment and light,	8	···/˘˘··
The ladies, their fantastic dress,	8	·/˘·˘/˘·
Also their feet—yet ne’ertheless	8	/˘······
Scarcely in Russia can ye find	8	/˘·/˘···
Three pairs of handsome female feet;	8	···/˘/··
Ah! I still struggle to forget	8	···/˘·˘/
A pair; though desolate my mind,	8	···/˘···
Their memory lingers still and seems	8	·/˘/˘···
To agitate me in my dreams.	8	·/˘·····
When, where, and in what desert land,	8	·····/˘·
Madman, wilt thou from memory raze	8	/····/˘·
Those feet? Alas! on what far strand	8	··˘/····
Do ye of spring the blossoms graze?	8	·····/˘·
Lapped in your Eastern luxury,	8	···/˘/˘˘
No trace ye left in passing by	8	·····/˘·
Upon the dreary northern snows,	8	···/˘/˘·

The first 400 of 771 lines; the reader marks them all.

The reader shows the same poem with its rhymes coloured and a stress row above each line, the notes beside their stanzas, and any word's definition on a tap; the analysis page takes the whole book apart. How every part of this site was made.

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