With jest and gossip gaily blent.

Sed alia tempora. And bravery

(Like love, another sort of knavery!)

Diminishes as years decline.

But, as I said, Zaretski mine

Beneath acacias, cherry-trees,

From storms protection having sought,

Lived as a really wise man ought,

Like Horace, planted cabbages,

Both ducks and geese in plenty bred

And lessons to his children read.

VIII.

He was no fool, and Eugene mine,

To friendship making no pretence,

Admired his judgment, which was fine,

Pervaded with much common sense.

He usually was glad to see

The man and liked his company,

So, when he came next day to call,

Was not surprised thereby at all.

But, after mutual compliments,

Zaretski with a knowing grin,

Ere conversation could begin,

The epistle from the bard presents.

Oneguine to the window went

And scanned in silence its content.

IX.

It was a cheery, generous

Cartel, or challenge to a fight,

Whereto in language courteous

Lenski his comrade did invite.

Oneguine, by first impulse moved,

Turned and replied as it behoved,

Curtly announcing for the fray

That he was "ready any day."