Whispered, laughing, tender nothings,

And with caresses winsome could

In one short moment chase away

All gloomy thoughts and craven fears!

And now, thou tellst me, she is false,

That she, Zemphire, no longer loves'

OLD MAN.

Hearken, and I will story tell

Of myself and years long, long past,

Before Moscow had tried to win

Her new domains on Danube shore.

You see, I would recall, my friend.

The sorrow of far, younger years.

The mighty Sultan then we feared:

The Pascha ruled the Budschack plain,

And lofty heights of Ackermann.

Then I was young, and my glad souL

Within me leaped, all free of care;

And then my jet-black, raven curls

Flowed down unmixed with elder gray.

Among the maidens young was one,

Their queen in beauty - long I loved

And worshipped her, as men the sun.

At last I won her - she was mine!

Alas, like falling star, my youth,

Gleaming, flashed, and quickly vanished:

But swifter far the reign of love

Rose and flitted by; - one short year,

And Marie, my queen, betrayed me!

Near the wide, deep lakes of Kagoul,

We chanced to meet a stranger tribe,

Who pitched their tents at mountain's foot,

Where we had made our sojourn brief;