Eugene Onegin ( without commentary )

Chapter Eight
I

In those days when in the Lyceum's gardens I bloomed serenely, would eagerly read Apuleius, 4 did not read Cicero 5 in those days, in mysterious valleys, in springtime, to the calls of swans, near waters shining in the stillness, 8 the Muse began to visit me. My student cell was all at once radiant with light: in it the Muse opened a banquet of young fancies, 12 sang childish gaieties, and glory of our ancientry, and the heart's tremulous dreams.