Eugene Onegin ( without commentary )

2S4
Chapter
XL

But, reader, be it as it may, alas, the young lover, the poet, the pensive dreamer, has been killed 4, by a friend's hand! There is a spot: left of the village where inspiration's nursling dwelt, two pine trees grow, united at the roots 5 8 beneath them have meandered streamlets of the neighboring valley's brook. 'Tis there the plowman likes to rest and women reapers come to dip 2 their ringing pitchers in the waves 5 there, by the brook, in the dense shade a simple monument is set.