On horseback every day they ride -

Inseparable soon they be.

Thus oft - this I myself confess -

Men become friends from idleness.

XIV.

But even thus not now-a-days!

In spite of common sense we're wont

As cyphers others to appraise,

Ourselves as unities to count;

And like Napoleons each of us

A million bipeds reckons thus

One instrument for his own use -

Feeling is silly, dangerous.

Eugene, more tolerant than this

(Though certainly mankind he knew

And usually despised it too),

Exceptionless as no rule is,

A few of different temper deemed,

Feeling in others much esteemed.

XV.

With smiling face he Lenski hears;

The poet's fervid conversation

And judgment which unsteady veers

And eye which gleams with inspiration -

All this was novel to Eugene.

The cold reply with gloomy mien

He oft upon his lips would curb,

Thinking: 'tis foolish to disturb

This evanescent boyish bliss.

Time without me will lessons give,

So meantime let him joyous live

And deem the world perfection is!

Forgive the fever youth inspires,

And youthful madness, youthful fires.