Sometimes could keep his answer dark; Sometimes a quarrel could enable
To make the friends embroiled become, Made friends to barrier to come;
VII
To have a breakfast three together Could make them quickly reconcile,
And then in secret could defame them By merry jest or real he.
‘Sed alia temporal’ But rudeness {21} (Like dream of love, the prank of goodness)
With youthful years gets away, And my Zaretsky, I would say,
Behind accacias, bird cherries From storms is hidden in his den,
Can live like real wise a ma7i: Like that Horatius with cabbage
His geese and ducks tie breeds for fee And teaches children ABC.
VIII
He’s not a fool; Onegin, grudging, Did not respect the heart of his;
But liked the spirit of his judging, Judicious talks of that and this.
And he with pleasure long ago Was meeting him; that’s why at borne
Was not astonished at the dawn To see him coining to his hall;
But after first cordial greeting Zaretsky’s silent for a while
And to Onegin with wry smile From poet he gives for reading A leaf.
Onegin, standing up, At window it all read up.
IX
It was an honourable, pleasant A challenge, or cartel quite short,
It was polite and not discrepant: For duel Lensky called, in short.
Onegin at the first admission To agent of such secret mission
Returned; without extra word always ready - shortly said.
Zaretsky was explains refusing; To stay for long he didn’t want:
At home had to work a lot; And he went out; but my Eugene
Alone with his soul’s self Unsatisfied was by himself.
X
It serves him right: to think if strictly, If secret judge for him to call,
He was to blame at times more thickly: At first, he wasn’t right at all
That he at love such timid, tender Last evening joked like offender;
Then let the poet enraged To play the fool: at his teenage
It is forgivable.
Onegin Who loved the youth with all his heart
Himself should show as the hard Without prejudices heading
Not flaming boy for fighting fit But male with honour and the wit.
XI
He could his feelings there show But not to bristle like a beast.
No should disarm him long ago, That young a soul.
But at least
It’s late, the time has gone; his letter To rue was brought; the whole matter
Is spoiled by old duels fan, He’s evil, gossip, talking man...
Of course, he thinks, ‘I could be scornful To alt his funny, lying word;
But whisper, laugh of fools can hurt..’
Opinion of the public mournful!
The spring of honour, idol last!
Yet does it whirl the world and us:
XII
By eager enmity exited Vladimir for the answer waits.
Eloquent man, by him invited, Triumphantly the answer trails.
And now jealouser’s triumphant!