Why rave ye, babblers, so--ye lords of popular wonder?
Why such anathemas 'gainst Russia do ye thunder?
What moves your idle rage? Is't Poland's fallen pride?
'Tis but Slavonic kin among themselves contending,
An ancient household strife, oft judged but still unending,
A question which, be sure, _ye_ never can decide.
For ages past have still contended
These races, though so near allied:
And oft 'neath Victory's storm has bended
Now Poland's, and now Russia's side.
Which shall stand fast in such commotion,
The haughty Liakh, or faithful Russ?
And shall Slavonic streams meet in a Russian ocean--
Or _that_ dry up? This is the point for us.
Peace, peace! your eyes are all unable
To read our history's bloody table;
Strange in your sight and dark must be
Our springs of household enmity!
To you the Kreml and Praga's tower
Are voiceless all--you mark the fate
And daring of the battle-hour--
And understand us not, but hate ...
What stirs ye? Is it that this nation
On Moscow's flaming wall, blood-slaked and ruin-quench'd,
Spurn'd back the insolent dictation
Of Him before whose nod ye blench'd?
Is it that into dust we shatter'd
The Dagon that weigh'd down all earth so wearily?
And our best blood so freely scatter'd
To buy for Europe peace and liberty?
Ye're bold of tongue--but hark, would ye in _deed_ but try it
Or is the hero, now reclined in laurell'd quiet,
Too weak to fix once more Izmail's red bayonet?
Or hath the Russian Tsar ever in vain commanded?
Or must we meet all Europe banded?
Have we forgot to conquer yet?
Or rather, shall they not, from Perm to Tauris' fountains,
From the hot Colchian steppes to Finland's icy mountains,
From the grey Kreml's half-shatter'd wall,
To far Kathay, in dotage buried--
A steelly rampart close and serried,
Rise--Russia's warriors--one and all?
Then send your numbers without number,
Your madden'd sons, your goaded slaves,
In Russia's plains there's room to slumber,
And well they'll know their brethen's graves!
* * * * *
We are not sure whether we are right in yielding to the temptation of
transcribing in these sheets so many of the smaller lyrics and fugitive
pieces of our author; and whether that very charm of _form_ and
_expression_ which attract so strongly our admiration to the originals,
should not have rather tended to deter us from so difficult an attempt
as that of transposing them into another language. The chief grace and
value of such productions certainly consists less in the quantity or
weight of the gold employed in their composition, than in the beauty and
delicacy of the image stamped or graven upon the metal; and the critic
may object against us, if our critic be in a severe mood (quod Dii
avertant boni!) the rashness of the numismatist, who should hope, in
recasting the exquisite medals of antique art, to retain--or even
imperfectly imitate--the touches of the Ionic or the Corinthian chisel.
True as is the above reasoning with respect to the slighter productions
of poetry in all languages, it is peculiarly true when applied to the
smaller offspring of Pushkin's muse; and were we not sufficiently
convinced of the danger and the arduousness of our attempt, by our own
experience and by analogy, we should have found abundant reason for
diffidence in the often repeated counsels of Russians, who all unite in
asserting that there is something so peculiarly delicate and inimitable
in the diction and versification of these little pieces, as to be almost
beyond the reach of a foreigner's _appreciation_, and, consequently,
that any attempt at _imitation_ must, _a fortiori_, of necessity be a
failure. Notwithstanding all this, and despite many sinister presages,
we have obstinately persevered in our determination to clothe in an
English dress those pieces, great and small--gems or flowers,
productions perfumed by grace of diction, or heavy with weight of
thought--which struck us most forcibly among the poems of our author;
and we hope that our boldness, if not our success, may be rewarded with
the approbation of such of our countrymen as may be curious to know
something of the tone and physiognomy of the Russian literature.