When that time comes, a poem I'll strive

To write in cantos twenty-five.

LIV.

I've thought well o'er the general plan,

The hero's name too in advance,

Meantime I'll finish whilst I can

Canto the First of this romance.

I've scanned it with a jealous eye,

Discovered much absurdity,

But will not modify a tittle -

I owe the censorship a little.

For journalistic deglutition

I yield the fruit of work severe.

Go, on the Neva's bank appear,

My very latest composition!

Enjoy the meed which Fame bestows -

Misunderstanding, words and blows.

CANTO THE SECOND.

The Poet "O Rus!" - Horace Canto The Second [Note: Odessa, December 1823.]

I.

The village wherein yawned Eugene

Was a delightful little spot,

There friends of pure delight had been

Grateful to Heaven for their lot.

The lonely mansion-house to screen

From gales a hill behind was seen;

Before it ran a stream. Behold!

Afar, where clothed in green and gold

Meadows and cornfields are displayed,

Villages in the distance show

And herds of oxen wandering low;

Whilst nearer, sunk in deeper shade,

A thick immense neglected grove

Extended - haunt which Dryads love.

II.

'Twas built, the venerable pile,

As lordly mansions ought to be,