trife,
All is but prose to such as he,
Wearied unto satiety.

Perchance we fain would pass unnoticed
That which in Autumn drooped and pined,
Now radiant in verdure springing,
Since it must of our loss remind;
As with a tortured soul we realize
In Nature's glad awakening,
That we shall never find renewal,
Who evermore are withering.
Perchance there haunts us in remembrance,
Our own most dear and lyric dream,
Another long forgotten Springtime--
And trembling neath this pang supreme,
The heart faints for a distant country
And for a night beside the sea!

PUSHKIN.

THE MEMORIAL

Beyond compare the monument I have erected,
And to this spirit column well-worn the people's path,--
Its head defiant will out-soar that famous pillar
The Emperor Alexander hath!

I shall not vanish wholly,--No! but young forever
My spirit will live on, within my lyre will ring,
And men within this world shall hold me in remembrance
While yet one Singer lives to sing.

My glory shall in future fly through distant Russia,
Each race in its own tongue shall name me far and wide,
The Slav, the Finn, the Kalmyk, all shall know me--
The Tungoose in his reindeer hide.

Among my people I shall be long loved and cherished,
Because their noblest instincts I have e'er inflamed,
In evil hours I lit their hearts with fires of freedom,
And never for their pleasures blamed.

O Muse, pursue the calling of thy Gods forever!
Strive not for the garland, nor look upon the pain--
Unmoved support the voice of scorn or of laudation,
And argument with Fools disdain!

PUSHKIN.

_The Alexander column, standing before the Winter Palace at St.
Petersburg, is a monolith eighty feet high; with the pedestal measuring
one hundred and fifty feet_.

TAMARA

Where waves of the Terek are waltzing
In Dariel's wickedest pass,
There rises from bleakest of storm crags
An ancient grey towering mass.

In this tower by mad winds assaulted,
Sat ever Tamara, the Queen--
A heavenly angel of beauty,
With a spirit of hell's own demesne.

Through the mist of the night her gold fires
Gleamed down through the valley below,
A welcome they threw to the pilgrim,
In their streaming and beckoning glow.

How clear rang the voice of Tamara!
How amorous did it invite!
The heart of the stranger enticing,
Seducing with magic delight!

The warrior was snared by her singing,
Nor noble, nor herd could withstand--
Then noiseless her