Eugene Onegin ( without commentary )

205

Eugene Onegin

L

Merry he was. A fortnight hence the blissful date was set, and the nuptial bed's mystery 4 and love's sweet crown awaited his transports. Hymen's cares, woes, ? awnings' chill train, 8 he never visioned. Whereas we, enemies of Hymen, perceive in home life but a series of tedious images, 12 a novel in the genre of Lafontaine. ? my poor Lenski! For the said life he at heart was born.

He was loved-or at least he thought so-and was happy.

Blest hundredfold is he who is devoted 4 to faith 5 who, having curbed cold intellect, in the heart's mollitude reposes as, bedded for the night, a drunken traveler, or (more tenderly) as a butterfly 8 absorbed in a spring flower; but pitiful is he who foresees all, whose head is never in a whirl, who hates all movements and all words 12 in their interpretation, whose heart is by experience chilled and forbidden to get lost in dreams.