Two lions stood, both keeping guard:

Whilst in the darkness, tow'ring high,

On pedestal of granite rock,

Sate, with his royal hand outstretched,

The giant on his steed of bronze.

Evjenie shuddered, and his thoughts

Grew strangely clear. Again he saw

The place where seas had wildly played,

Where waves of prey had shrieking roared,

And round him dashed with angry whirl:

He saw the lions, square, and him,

Who with bronze head, and motionless,

In the darkness proudly towered,

As ever, with his hand outstretched,

He watched the city he had built.

The poor mad creature wildly roamed

Around the rock with aching limbs.

And read the words clear cut in stone;

And, crushed with grief, his bleeding heart

Grew dead within him. And he pressed

His burning brow against the rail;

A blinding mist came o'er his eyes,

And through his frame a shudder ran,

As he stood trembling, lost in gloom,

Before great Russia's giant Tsar.

With finger raised in dumb reproach,

He thought' to speak. But no word came.

And quick he took to headlong flight

It seemed, his face with angry glow

Aflame, the all-dread Tsar had turned,

And fixed on him his searching gaze:

He fled, and, flying, heard behind.

Like roll of thunder, loud and sharp,

The heavy measured tread of feet.