Do I then not fondle thee;

Thy grain to eat art thou not free;

Is not thy harness ornamented,

Is not thy rein of silk,

Is not thy shoe of silver,

Thy stirrup not of gold?

The steed, in sorrow, answer gives:

Hence am I still,

Because the distant tramp I hear,

The trumpet's blow, and the arrow's whiz;

And hence I neigh, since in the field

No longer shall I feed,

Nor in beauty live, and fondling,

Nor shine with the harness bright.

For soon the stern enemy

My harness whole shall take,

And the shoes of silver

From my light feet shall tear.

Hence it is that grieves my spirit;

That in place of my chaprak

With thy skin shall cover he

My perspiring sides.

22. It is thus that the singer lifts up his voice against the terrors of war. It is thus that he protests against the struggle between brother and brother; and the effect of the protest is all the more potent that it is put into the mouth, not as Nekrassof puts it, of the singer, but into that of a dumb, unreasoning beast.

23. We have now reached the last stage of the development of Pushkin's singing soul. For once conscious of a moral purpose, he cannot remain long on the plane of mere protest; this is mere negation. What is to him the truth must likewise be sung, and he utters the note of affirmation; this in his greatest poem, - THE PROPHET.

Tormented by the thirst for the Spirit,

I was dragging myself in a sombre desert,

And a six-winged seraph appeared

Unto me on the parting of the roads;

With fingers as light as a dream

He touched mine eyes;

And mine eyes opened wise,

Like unto the eyes of a frightened eagle.

He touched mine ears,

And they filled with din and ringing.