Whose heart experience icy made

And yet oblivion forbade.

CANTO THE FIFTH.

The Fete 'Oh, do not dream these fearful dreams,

O my Svetlana.' - Joukovski

Canto The Fifth [Note: Mikhailovskoe, 1825-6]

I.

That year the autumn season late

Kept lingering on as loath to go,

All Nature winter seemed to await,

Till January fell no snow -

The third at night. Tattiana wakes

Betimes, and sees, when morning breaks,

Park, garden, palings, yard below

And roofs near morn blanched o'er with snow;

Upon the windows tracery,

The trees in silvery array,

Down in the courtyard magpies gay,

And the far mountains daintily

O'erspread with Winter's carpet bright,

All so distinct, and all so white!

II.

Winter! The peasant blithely goes

To labour in his sledge forgot,

His pony sniffing the fresh snows

Just manages a feeble trot

Though deep he sinks into the drift;

Forth the kibitka gallops swift,(48)

Its driver seated on the rim

In scarlet sash and sheepskin trim;

Yonder the household lad doth run,

Placed in a sledge his terrier black,

Himself transformed into a hack;

To freeze his finger hath begun,

He laughs, although it aches from cold,

His mother from the door doth scold.