The power of blind and cunning fate.

But, God: what passions wild have stormed

Aleko's seeming tranquil breast!

With what mad fury have they raged,

And torn in twain his wounded soul!

And thinks he to have tamed them now?

They shall awake, their hour will come!

IV.

ZEMPH1RE.

But say, my friend, dost not regret

The world tnou hast behind thee left?

ALEKO.

And what is there to leave?

ZEMPHIRE.

Thou knowst:

Country, friends and native city.

ALEKO.

Wherefore regret? Ah, didst thou know,

Couldst but once conceive or measure

The vileness of their stifling town!

Where men do herd in crowds, nor breathe

The morning fresh, or mountain free.

Or scent of spring on meadow sweet;

Are shamed of love, and banish thought,

Consent to sell their freedom dear,

To, fetish idols bow their heads,

Will sue for pelf, and hug their chains.

What have I left? The falser's lie

The smirking bigot's narrow creed.

The senseless hate of unwashed mob,

Rank, orders, title, bought with shame.

ZEMPHIRE.

But there are mansions vast and rich,

There are carpets varicoloured,