Sometimes, when still in bed he drowses, Notelets are brought to greet the day a What? Invitations? Yes, three houses Inviting him to a soiree: A ball here, there a children's evening, For which will my young scamp be leaving?

With which begin? It matters not: He'll be wherever on the dot.

Meanwhile, apparelled for the morning And, donning a broad bolivar,16 Onegin to the boulevard Drives out and strolls, at leisure swanning, Until Breguet17 with watchful chime Rings out that it is dinner time.

16.

It's dark: into a sleigh he settles.

The cry resounds: 'Away, away';18 Upon his beaver collar, petals Of frostdust form a silver spray.

Off to Talon's:19 he's sure that therein, Waiting for him, he'll find Kaverin.20 He enters: cork to ceiling goes And comet wine21 spurts forth and flows, b.l.o.o.d.y roast beef22 is there to savour, And truffles, young men's luxury, The bouquet of French cookery, And Strasbourg pie, that keeps for ever,23 Between a golden ananas24 And Limburg cheese's living ma.s.s.25

17.

Thirst still replenishes the beakers To down hot cutlets one by one, But Breguet tells the pleasure seekers Of a new ballet that's begun.

The theatre's heartless legislator, Fickle adorer and spectator Of actresses, who are the rage, An honoured citizen backstage, Onegin flies off to the theatre, Where liberty's admirers26 are Prepared to clap an entrechat, To hiss off Cleopatra, Phaedra, Call for Moena27 (in a word, Make sure their voices can be heard).

18.

Enchanting world! There shone Fonvizin,28 Bold king of the satiric scene, A friend of liberty and reason, And there shone copycat Knyazhnin.29 There, Ozerov30 shared the elation Of public tears and acclamation With young Semyonova; there our Katenin31 reproduced the power of Corneille's genius; there the scathing Prince Shakhovskoy32 delivered his Resounding swarm of comedies; There was Didelot,33 in glory bathing; There, in the wings that gave me shelter, My youthful days sped helter-skelter.

19.

My G.o.ddesses! Where now? Forsaken?

Oh hearken to my call, I rue: Are you the same? Have others taken Your place without replacing you?

When shall I listen to your chorus, Behold in soul-filled flight before us Russia's Terpsich.o.r.e34 again?

Or will my mournful gaze in vain Seek a known face on dreary stages, And, with my disabused lorgnette Upon an alien public set, Indifferent to its latest rages, Shall I in silence yawn and cast My mind back to a bygone past?

20.

The house is full; the boxes brilliant; Parterre and stalls a all seethe and roar; Up in the G.o.ds they clap, ebullient, And, with a swish, the curtains soar.

Semi-ethereal and radiant, To the enchanting bow obedient, Ringed round by nymphs, Istomina35 Stands still; one foot supporting her, She circles slowly with the other, And lo! a leap, and lo! she flies, Flies off like fluff across the skies, By Aeolus36 wafted hither thither; Her waist she twists, untwists; her feet Against each other swiftly beat.

21.

Applause all round. Onegin enters, Treading on toes at every stall, Askew, his double eyegla.s.s centres On ladies whom he can't recall; At boxes, at the tiers he gazes; With all the finery and faces He's dreadfully dissatisfied; Bows to the men on every side And, in profound abstraction pacing, Looks at the stage, then turns away a And yawns, exclaiming with dismay: 'The whole d.a.m.n lot there need replacing.

I've suffered ballets long enough, And even Didelot's boring stuff.'37

22.

Still cupids, devils, snakes keep leaping Across the stage with noisy roars; And weary footmen still are sleeping On furs at the theatre doors; There's coughing still and stamping, slapping, Blowing of noses, hissing, clapping; Still inside, outside, burning bright, The lamps illuminate the night; And still in harness shivering horses Fidget, while coachmen round a fire, Beating their palms together, tire, Reviling masters with their curses; Already, though, Onegin's gone To put some new apparel on.

23.

Shall I attempt to picture truly The secret and secluded den Where fashion's model pupil duly Is dressed, undressed and dressed again?

Whatever trinket-dealing London To satisfy our whims abundant Exports across the Baltic flood, Exchanging it for tallow, wood; Whatever Paris, in its hunger, Having made taste an industry, Invents for our frivolity, For luxury and modish languor a These graced, at eighteen years of age, The study of our youthful sage.

24.

Pipes from Tsargrad,38 inlaid with amber, Bronzes and china on a stand, Perfumes39 in crystal vials to pamper The senses of a gentleman; Combs, little files of steel, and scissors, Straight ones and curved, and tiny tweezers, And thirty kinds of brush to clean The nails and teeth, and keep their sheen.

Rousseau40 (I'll note with your permission) Could not conceive how solemn Grimm41 Dared clean his nails in front of him, The madcap sage and rhetorician.

Champion of rights and liberty, In this case judged wrong-headedly.

25.

One still can be a man of action And mind the beauty of one's nails: Why fight the age's predilection?

Custom's a despot and prevails.

My Eugene, like Chaadaev,42 fearful Of jealous censure, was most careful About his dress a a pedant or A dandy, as we said before.

At least three hours he spent preparing In front of mirrors in his lair, And, stepping out at last from there, Looked like a giddy Venus wearing A man's attire, who, thus arrayed, Drives out to join a masquerade.

26.

Having diverted you concerning The latest taste in toiletry, I could regale the world of learning With his sartorial repertory; An enterprise that's bold, I know it, Yet, after all, I am a poet: But pantalons, frac and gilet43 Are still not Russian words today.

Indeed, I offer my excuses, Since my poor style, such as it is, Could well forgo the vanities Of foreign words and like abuses, Though I dipped into, formerly, The Academic Dictionary.

27.

But to continue with our story: We'd better hurry to the ball To which Onegin in his glory Has sped by coach to make his call.

Through sleeping streets, past houses darkened Twin carriage lamps pour out a jocund Illumination row on row, Projecting rainbows on the snow; With lampions around it scattered, A splendid house is brightly lit, Past whole-gla.s.s windows shadows flit And profiled heads are silhouetted Of ladies, and outlandish men a Fashion's most recent specimen.

28.

Behold our hero at the doorway; Past the hall porter like a dart He flies, ascends the marble stairway, Flicking his straying hair apart, Enters. The ballroom's full to br.i.m.m.i.n.g; The music now is tired of dinning; Mazurkas entertain the crowd; The room is packed, the noise is loud; The spurs of Chevalier Gardes44 jangle, The little feet of ladies fly; Their charming tracks are followed by Glances that fly from every angle, And jealous female whisperings Are deafened by the howling strings.