Enough! my pack is now unslung -

To classicism I've homage paid,

Though late, have a beginning made.(77)

[Note 77: Many will consider this mode of bringing the canto to a conclusion of more than doubtful taste. The poet evidently aims a stroke at the pedantic and narrow-minded criticism to which original genius, emancipated from the strait-waistcoat of conventionality, is not unfrequently subjected.]

CANTO THE EIGHTH.

The Great World 'Fare thee well, and if for ever,

Still for ever fare thee well.' - Byron

Canto the Eighth [Saint Petersburg, Boldino, Tsarskoe Selo, 1880-1881]

I.

In the Lyceum's noiseless shade

As in a garden when I grew,

I Apuleius gladly read

But would not look at Cicero.

'Twas then in valleys lone, remote,

In spring-time, heard the cygnet's note

By waters shining tranquilly,

That first the Muse appeared to me.

Into the study of the boy

There came a sudden flash of light,

The Muse revealed her first delight,

Sang childhood's pastimes and its joy,

Glory with which our history teems

And the heart's agitated dreams.

II.

And the world met her smilingly,

A first success light pinions gave,

The old Derjavine noticed me,

And blest me, sinking to the grave.(78)

Then my companions young with pleasure

In the unfettered hours of leisure

Her utterances ever heard,

And by a partial temper stirred

And boiling o'er with friendly heat,

They first of all my brow did wreathe

And an encouragement did breathe

That my coy Muse might sing more sweet.

O triumphs of my guileless days,