No More Learning

with what pride celestial
Her feet the earth beneath her press!
Her heart how full of gentleness,
Her glance how wild yet genial!
Enough, enough, conclude thy lay--
For folly's dues thou hadst to pay.

L

Noise, laughter, bowing, hurrying mixt,
Gallop, mazurka, waltzing--see!
A pillar by, two aunts betwixt,
Tania, observed by nobody,
Looks upon all with absent gaze
And hates the world's discordant ways.
'Tis noisome to her there: in thought
Again her rural life she sought,
The hamlet, the poor villagers,
The little solitary nook
Where shining runs the tiny brook,
Her garden, and those books of hers,
And the lime alley's twilight dim
Where the first time she met with _him_.

LI

Thus widely meditation erred,
Forgot the world, the noisy ball,
Whilst from her countenance ne'er stirred
The eyes of a grave general.
Both aunts looked knowing as a judge,
Each gave Tattiana's arm a nudge
And in a whisper did repeat:
"Look quickly to your left, my sweet! "
"The left? Why, what on earth is there? "--
"No matter, look immediately.
There, in that knot of company,
Two dressed in uniform appear--
Ah! he has gone the other way"--
"Who? Is it that stout general, pray? "--

LII

Let us congratulations pay
To our Tattiana conquering,
And for a time our course delay,
That I forget not whom I sing.
Let me explain that in my song
"I celebrate a comrade young
And the extent of his caprice;
O epic Muse, my powers increase
And grant success to labour long;
Having a trusty staff bestowed,
Grant that I err not on the road. "
Enough! my pack is now unslung--
To classicism I've homage paid,
Though late, have a beginning made. (77)

[Note 77: Many will consider this mode of bringing the canto
to a conclusion of more than doubtful taste. The poet evidently
aims a stroke at the pedantic and narrow-minded criticism to
which original genius, emancipated from the strait-waistcoat of
conventionality, is not unfrequently subjected. ]


End of Canto The Seventh



CANTO THE EIGHTH

The Great World

'Fare thee well, and if for ever,
Still for ever fare thee well. '--Byron


Canto the Eighth

[St. Petersburg, Boldino, Tsarskoe Selo, 1880-1881]


I

In the Lyceum's noiseless shade
As in a garden when I grew,
I Apuleius gladly read
But would not look at Cicero.
'Twas then in valleys lone, remote,
In spring-time, heard the cygnet's note
By waters shining tranquilly,
That first the Muse appeared to me.
Into the study of the boy
There came a sudden flash of light,
The Muse revealed her first delight,
Sang childhood's pastimes and its joy,
Glory with which our history teems
And the heart's agitated dreams.

II

And the world met her smilingly,
A first success light pinions gave,
The old Derjavine noticed me,
And blest me, sinking to the grave. (78)
Then my companions young with pleasure
In the unfettered hours of leisure
Her utterances ever heard,
And by a partial temper stirred
And boiling o'er with friendly heat,
They first of all my brow did wreathe
And an encouragement did breathe
That my coy Muse might sing more sweet.
O triumphs of my guileless days,
How sweet a dream your memories raise!

[Note 78: This touching scene produced a lasting impression on
Pushkin's mind. It took place at a public examination at
the Lyceum, on which occasion the boy poet produced a poem. The
incident recalls the "Mon cher Tibulle" of Voltaire and the
youthful Parny (see Note 42).