Eugene Onegin ( without commentary )

292
Chapter Eight
IV

But I dropped out of their alliance- and fled afar… she followed me. How often the caressive Muse 4 for me would sweeten the mute way with the bewitchment of a secret tale! How often on Caucasia's crags, Lenorelike, by the moon, 8 with me she'd gallop on a steed! How often on the shores of Tauris she in the gloom of night led me to listen the sound of the sea, 11 Nereid's unceasing murmur, the deep eternal chorus of the billows, the praiseful hymn to the sire of the worlds. v And the far capital's glitter and noisy feasts having forgotten in the wilds of sad Moldavia, 4 she visited the humble tents of wandering tribes$ and among them grew savage, and forgot the language of the gods 8 for scant, strange tongues, for songs of the steppe dear to her. Suddenly everything around changed, and lo! in my garden she appeared is as a provincial miss, with a sad thought in her eyes, with a French book in her hands.