e of Byron;
but Byron opened his eyes to a new world, and indeed did for him what
Chapman's _Homer_ did for Keats. It frequently happens that when a
poet is deeply struck by the work of another poet he feels a desire to
write something himself, but something different. Thus Pushkin's
mental intercourse with Byron had the effect of bracing the talent of
the Russian poet and spurring him on to the conquest of new worlds.

Pushkin's six years' banishment to his own country had the effect of
revealing to him the reality and seriousness of his vocation as a
poet, and the range and strength of his gifts. It was during this
period that besides the works already mentioned he wrote some of his
finest lyrics, _The Conversation between the Bookseller and the
Poet_--perhaps the most perfect of his shorter poems--it contains four
lines to have written which Turgenev said he would have burnt the
whole of his works--a larger poem called _The Gypsies_; his dramatic
chronicle _Boris Godunov_, and the beginning of his masterpiece
_Onegin_; several ballads, including _The Sage Oleg_, and an
unfinished romance, the _Robber Brothers_.

Not only is the richness of his output during this period remarkable,
but the variety and the high level of art maintained in all the
different styles which he attempted and mastered. _The Gypsies_
(1827), which was received with greater favour by the public than any
of his poems, either earlier or later, is the story of a disappointed
man, Aleko, who leaves the world and takes refuge with gypsies. A
tragically ironical situation is the result. The anarchic nature of
the Byronic misanthrope brings tragedy into the peaceful life of the
people, who are lawless because they need no laws. Aleko loves and
marries the gypsy Zemfira, but after a time she tires of him, and
loves a young gypsy. Aleko surprises them and kills them both. Then
Zemfira's father banishes him from the gypsies' camp. He, too, had
been deceived. When his wife Mariula had been untrue and had left him,
he had attempted no vengeance, but had brought up her daughter.

"Leave us, proud man," he says to Aleko. "We are a wild people; we
have no laws, we torture not, neither do we punish; we have no use for
blood or groans; we will not live with a man of blood. Thou wast not
made for the wild life. For thyself alone thou claimest licence; we
are shy and good-natured; thou art evil-minded and presumptuous.
Farewell, and peace be with thee!"

The