Eugene Onegin ( without commentary )

116
Chapter One
XLIV

And once again to idleness consigned, oppressed by emptiness of soul, he settled down with the laudable aim 4 to make his own another's mind; he crammed a shelf with an array of books, and read, and read-and all for nothing: here there was dullness; there, deceit and raving; 8 this one lacked conscience5 that one, sense; on all of them were different fetters; and outworn was the old, and the new raved about the old. 12 As he'd left women, he left books and, with its dusty tribe, the shelf with funerary taffeta he curtained.