Eugene Oneguine [Onegin]. A Romance of Russian Life in Verse

Reader, whoever thou mayst be, 
Foeman or friend, I do aspire 
To part in amity with thee! 
Adieu! whate'er thou didst desire 
From careless stanzas such as these, 
Of passion reminiscences, 
Pictures of the amusing scene, 
Repose from labour, satire keen, 
Or faults of grammar on its page— 
God grant that all who herein glance, 
In serious mood or dalliance 
Or in a squabble to engage, 
May find a crumb to satisfy. 
Now we must separate. Good-bye!

XLIX

And farewell thou, my gloomy friend, 
Thou also, my ideal true, 
And thou, persistent to the end, 
My little book. With thee I knew 
All that a poet could desire, 
Oblivion of life's tempest dire, 
Of friends the grateful intercourse— 
Oh, many a year hath run its course 
Since I beheld Eugene and young 
Tattiana in a misty dream, 
And my romance's open theme 
Glittered in a perspective long, 
And I discerned through Fancy's prism 
Distinctly not its mechanism.

L

But ye to whom, when friendship heard, 
The first-fruits of my tale I read, 
As Saadi anciently averred—[89] 
Some are afar and some are dead.

Without them Eugene is complete; 
And thou, from whom Tattiana sweet; 
Was drawn, ideal of my lay— 
Ah! what hath fate not torn away!

Happy who quit life's banquet seat 
Before the dregs they shall divine 
Of the cup brimming o'er with wine— 
Who the romance do not complete, 
But who abandon it—as I 
Have my Oneguine—suddenly.

End of Canto The Eighth

The End