VIII “But strange am I to happiness; ’Tis foreign to my cast of thought; Me your perfections would not bless; I am not worthy them in aught; And honestly ’tis my belief Our union would produce but grief. Though now my love might be intense, Habit would bring indifference. I see you weep. Those tears of yours Tend not my heart to mitigate, But merely to exasperate; Judge then what roses would be ours, What pleasures Hymen would prepare For us, may be for many a year. IX “What can be drearier than the house, Wherein the miserable wife Deplores a most unworthy spouse And leads a solitary life? The tiresome man, her value knowing, Yet curses on his fate bestowing, Is full of frigid jealousy, Mute, solemn, frowning gloomily. Such am I. This did ye expect, When in simplicity ye wrote Your innocent and charming note With so much warmth and intellect? Hath fate apportioned unto thee This lot in life with stern decree? X “Ideas and time ne’er backward move; My soul I cannot renovate— I love you with a brother’s love, Perchance one more affectionate. Listen to me without disdain. A maid hath oft, may yet again Replace the visions fancy drew; Thus trees in spring their leaves renew As in their turn the seasons roll. ’Tis evidently Heaven’s will You fall in love again. But still— Learn to possess more self-control. Not all will like myself proceed— And thoughtlessness to woe might lead.” XI Thus did our friend Onéguine preach: Tattiana, dim with tears her eyes, Attentive listened to his speech, All breathless and without replies. His arm he offers. Mute and sad (_Mechanically_, let us add), Tattiana doth accept his aid; And, hanging down her head, the maid Around the garden homeward hies. Together they returned, nor word Of censure for the same incurred; The country hath its liberties And privileges nice allowed, Even as Moscow, city proud. XII Confess, O ye who this peruse, Onéguine acted very well By poor Tattiana in the blues; ’Twas not the first time, I can tell You, he a noble mind disclosed, Though some men, evilly disposed, Spared him not their asperities. His friends and also enemies (One and the same thing it may be) Esteemed him much as the world goes. Yes! every one must have his foes, But Lord! from friends deliver me! The deuce take friends, my friends, amends I’ve had to make for having friends! XIII