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THE LIBRARY

MUNIVERSITY MINNESOTA
E
OF
TH

INIBI

1
THE DEMON :

X Poem.
។
1.
 THE DEMON :

2 Poem .

BY

MICHAEL LERMONTOFF.

TRANSLATED FROM THE RUSSIAN

BY

ALEXR CONDIE STEPHEN.

LONDON :
TRÜBNER AND CO ., 57 & 59, LUDGATE HILL .
1875.
In compliance with current
copyright law, the Univer
sity of Minnesota Bindery
produced this facsimile on
permanent-durable paper to
replace the irreparably
deteriorated original volume
owned by the University
Library.

LONDON :

PRINTED BY WILLIAM CLOWES AND SONS,

STAMFORD STREET AND CHARING CROSS.
891.7153
JDS

Dedicated
TO

IVAN SERGEIVITCH TOURGUÉNEFF,

WITH FEELINGS OF AFFECTION AND ESTEEM ,
 PREF A C E.

ALTHOUGH already fragments of Russian poetry

have been translated into English, no Russian
poem of any importance has been brought under
the notice of the general Public. Indeed, the
ignorance througbout Europe in regard to Russian
literature is so profound, that few , save those
thoroughly acquainted with the language, believe
that any works beyond fable and folklore are to
be met with on the shelves of a Russian library.
Such names as Pouchkine, Karamsine, Lermon
toff, Gogol, are hardly known out of Russia,
and few foreigners are aware when these authors
lived .
To what are we to attribute this fact ? Is it
the difficulty and awkwardness of the language ?
or is it because the literature of Russia is so poor
that it possesses no work that merits a wider
acquaintance ?
8 PREFACE.

As an endeavour to prove the latter opinion

erroneous, I now consign this, the labour of many
months, to the ordeal of public criticism.
In the selection I have made I have chosen apoem
which has been read more, and which at the time of
its publication created in Russia a greater sensation,
than perhaps any other written in that country
before or since. “ The Demon ,” although partly
written so far back as 1829, was not completed until
the year 1834, and even then the author had only
reached the early age of twenty. It would appear,
from the frequent descriptions he gives of the
scenery in the Caucasus, that the impressions
which remained to bim of those glorious mountains,
after his visit there with his grandmother when
quite a boy, may have first prompted him to
commence the poem.
The subject is full of simplicity and grandeur.
Satan flying through space recalls the happy
time when, as a holy angel, the purest charms and
sweetest privileges of heaven were his. Homeless
he wanders, weary of spreading sin, and of possess
ing a power that encounters no opposition. Below
he beholds the varied beauties of the Caucasus, its
majestic mountains and pellucid rivers, and afar the
 PREFACE . 9

rich valleys of fair Georgia ; yet Nature's sweetest

scenes produce no effect on him beyond a feeling
of cold envy - all that he sees he hates ! At last
a beautiful Georgian, by name Tamára, attracts his
attention, as amid her handmaids at her father's
castle she joyously awaits her princely bridegroom .
On beholding her, the Demon is once more con
scious of the force of beauty and love. Her bride
groom , at his instigation, is attacked and slain by
a band of robbers, while on his way to the nuptials,
and Tamára, overcome with grief and harassed
by the insidious and passion -inspiring voice of
Satan, seeks refuge in a convent. Thither he
follows her, and in a powerful dialogue inspires
her with compassion for his forlorn hopelessness.
In the embrace of the Demon she dies. As an
Angel is bearing her soul to heaven, the Evil One
intercepts their course, declaring— “ She is his ; "
but the angel repulses him with the reply of mercy
that Heaven is open to love. Thus again is he
left, alone and hopeless in space, while the contrite
soul of his victim is borne onwards to Paradise .
The similarity of the subject with that of “ Faust,”
and of the character with that of Lucifer in “ Cain,'
will doubtless strike all at first ; but on closer
10 PREFACE .

perusal the reader cannot help but discover, in “ The

Demon ” of Lermontoff, a character that differs in
every way from the Mephistopheles of Goethe and
the Lucifer of Byron. The softening effect that
love is able to produce for the time being on
the impersonation of all evil, is as marvellous in
its conception as it is thrilling in the manner
in which it is told in the Russian . Of course,
in the translation of such a poem much of
its beauty must be lost. If it be rendered line by
line, with every care taken to interpret the
literal meaning of the author, it is pronounced too
like a translation ; if, on the other hand, any scope
whatever is given to the imagination and the
spirit, not the words of the original followed, the
translator runs the risk of being considered vain.
To translate poetry into poetry, is to work with one
hand tied. The self-generating fire of original
conception is not a kindled flame, and translation
must needs be at best but a reflection of the
original. In the choice of metre, I have adhered,
as far as the difference of the idiom and con
struction of the two languages would allow, to the
essential sound and spirit of the Russian, being
anxious to convey, as much as possible, some of
 PREFACE . 11

the quaint complication, yet musical flow , that

is so conspicuous and attractive in it. At first
the reader will be alarmed at the sudden halt the
verse seems occasionally to make, but, on examina
tion, he will find that this apparent abruptness
adds much to the force and poignancy of the
line.
For example, in the Second Stanza of the first
Canto :

While, as a minute tracks a minute,

So rollid the ceaseless centuries past,
Unvarying in their endless stream .
O'er the vile earth he ruled supreme. . .

No doubt a more familiar metre would have been

more pleasing and natural to the English ear ; but
it has been my object throughout to convey to the
reader unacquainted with the language an idea
of its peculiarly majestic simplicity in verse.
As little is known in England of Russian authors,
a short sketch of the life of Lermontoff may not be
devoid of interest.
Michael Urévitch Lermontoff was born at Moscow
on the 3rd of October, 1814. He was descended
from gentle but poor relations, who had long
resided in the government of Toula. Scarcely
12 PREFACE.

had he reached the age of three when he lost his

mother, and was taken by his grandmother to her
estate near the village of Tarchani, where she
devoted every care to his education. Of his
father little is known, beyond that he was an
officer in the army, and somewhat given to dissi
pated habits. Though yet a child , it appears he
pursued his studies with extraordinary diligence
and alacrity, and we are told that at the age of
ten he knew French and German thoroughly, and
was able to read with comparative ease English
and Italian. He seems, however, to have regretted
this early acquaintance with foreign languages ; as
he afterwards observed, “ What a pity I had a
German and not a Russian nurse ! I never heard
the popular tales of my country : they doubtless
contain more poetry than the whole literature of
France ."
In 1826 he was taken to Moscow and placed at
a school attached to the University, where five
years later he entered as a student.. Even at this
early age his strange character and taste for
poetry appear to have attracted attention , as
Madame Khvostoff among her memoirs writes :
“ I met, one day, at Madame Verestchaguine's, her
 PREFACE. 13

cousin , an ungainly youth of sixteen or seventeen,

2

with fine expressive eyes, a retroussé nose, and a

satirical mocking smile. He was studying at the
preparatory school for the University ; but his
studies did not prevent his accompanying us
nearly every evening on our walks and visits.
All called him Michael. . . We treated him as
.

a child, although we did not fail to appreciate his

wit. This seemed to irritate him, and he endea
voured, as much as possible, to present himself
to our eyes in the light of a young man,
quoting to us incessantly passages from Pouchkine,
9

Lamartine, and Byron.”

Meanwhile the poetical talent of the youth had
not remained dormant. Already had he written
several small pieces of poetry, among others “ The
Captive of the Caucasus;" but it was not until later
that his genius took a higher flight. In 1829 the
first outline of “ The Demon was sketched, and
other short poems followed ; none of these, how
ever, were published till long afterwards.
Having been expelled from the University
owing to some foolish escapade, a career in the
Civil Service of his country was no longer open
to him, and he was therefore forced to seek a
14 PREFACE .

profession in the Army. To carry out this scheme,

he entered , in 1832, the military academy at St.
Petersburg , where he remained two years. It
seems beyond doubt that the life he led during this
time amid scenes of intemperance and excess ,
although he himself for the moment was one of
the gayest, tended greatly to increase the morbid
cynicism that had even pervaded his character as
a child .
What bitter impressions must the association
with the empty and ribald companionship of that
time have left on his mind ! How dissipated must
have been the fair dreams he had formed for the
future !
Notwithstanding this, however, we read in a
letter in French to a friend in Moscow, and dated
the 4th August, 1833 :
“ La seule chose qui me soutient, c'est l'idée que
dans un an je serai officier ! Et alors, alors ... bon
Dieu ! Si vous saviez la vie que je me propose
de mener - oh ! cela sera charmant ! D'abord des
bizarreries, des folies de toute espèce et de la poésie
noyée dans du champagne. Je sais que vous allez
vous récrier ; mais hélas ! le temps de mes rêves
est passé. Il me faut des plaisirs matériels, un
 PREFACE. 15

bonheur palpable, qui ne fasse que tromper mes sens

en laissant mon âme tranquille et inactive ! .. •

Voilà ce qui m'est nécessaire maintenant, et vous

vous apercevez, chère amie, que je suis quelque peu
changé, depuis que nous nous sommes quittés.
Quand j'ai vu mes beaux rêves s'enfuir, je me suis
dit que ça ne valait pas la peine d'en fabriquer
d'autres. Il vaut mieux, pensai-je, apprendre à
s'en passer. Mes efforts ne furent pas inutiles, et
bientôt je ne vis dans mon passé qu’un programme
d'aventures insignifiantes et fort communes . ”
On leaving the military academy, Lermontoff
entered a regiment of Hussars, and soon afterwards
wrote “ The Masquerade," a tragedy which was
greatly admired . His name, however, did not come
prominently before the public until 1837, when, on
the death of Pouchkine, he composed and circulated
a set of verses in memory of that poet. These
couplets, attacking some critics in high position , cre
ated an immense sensation, and were eventually the
cause of his being sent for a period to the Caucasus.
In 1838, however, at the ardent request of his grand
mother, he was recalled to St. Petersburg , where
he published “ The Demon " and the “ Mtzyri,”
his two finest works. Shortly afterwards were

1
16 PREFACE.

written the stories which appeared later under the

title of“ A Hero of our Time.” This composition, as
a portrait of the manners and character of the youth
of Russia of that age, cannot be overrated. In the
hero, Petchorine, Lermontoff vividly depicts the
languor and superficiality which then pervaded
society, and displays a striking picture of the
habits and customs of the residents in the Caucasus.
The language in which the story is written is
easy and expressive, and proves that the author
was as much a master of prose as he was of poetry.
In 1840, owing to a duel with the son of the
French ambassador, M. de Barante, Lermontoff, was
again sent to the Caucasus, where, in a second duel
with one of his comrades, Martinoff, he shortly
afterwards fell a victim .
He died at the early age of twenty -six, when
his capricious talent seemed to promise maturer
fruits, and the love of his country was inducing
him to throw off the chains with which the
influence of foreign literature, especially that of
Byron, had undoubtedly trammelled his genius.
Bielinsky, a Russian critic, speaking of him,
observes : “" Lermontoff produced little, much less
than his immense talent would have permitted him
 PREFACE . 17

to do. His careless, impressionable character, and

his style of life, alienated him from the arduous
labours of study, and the meditation so dear to the
poet. Nevertheless, his impetuous nature was
becoming consolidatedl ; the thirst after work and
reality was awaking within him, and his eagle
glance was already diving fearlessly into the
depths of human life.'
So bitter' and cutting had been his tongue, so
fearless his criticisms, that there were few to regret
his loss.. “ Lermontoff,” said one of his most in
timate friends, “ felt deeply and bitterly the empti
ness of the society of the day, and boldly expressed
this feeling to all his comrades and acquaintances.
On this account he was not liked by his fellow
officers, while in society and at Court he was con
sidered mischievous and malicious. In his regi
ment he was regarded as a bad officer ; and upon
his death, a minister of high rank, hearing of it,
exclaimed , “ He has got what he deserved,” and
the beau monde of St. Petersburg, clapping their
hands, echoed the epitaph.
Not many years, however, elapsed before his
country awoke to the loss it had sustained. His
faults were forgotten in the variety and richness
C
18 PREFACE.

of the works that he had bequeathed to his father

land, and Russia now mourns the untimely death
of one of its greatest poets.
The chief features in the poetry of Lermontoff
are its musical flow , the variety of its similes, and
the absence of superfluous words. A line often
contains what would have taken many an author a
stanza to convey, and a single word, dexterously
inserted, supplies the place of a whole passage.
The succinct character of the language greatly
tends to encourage this vivid style ; and herein has
lain the great difficulty I had to contend with in
the translation of “ The Demon .” My aim has been
not the mere rendering or version of the original,
but to place the reader in possession of some of the
specialities of the Russian language, as worked
upon by Russian genius. These to me, I must
confess, have an indefinable charm. Into what far
off world of past connections and memories every
word in a language conveys the native mind,
without labour, or attention, or even thought, all
students of philology are well aware. It is a
portion of such subtlety and essence that I have
endeavoured to communicate in this translation as
well as the meaning of the author. The weird
 PREFACE . 19

story, the pictures of wild scenery, the poetic

expression, the passionate interest, are the writer's ;
the silvery sweetness, the gently mournful tone
pervading throughout, the force and elegance,
obtained from apparent abruptness and sudden
pause, are conspicuously elements of the language.
All these I have striven to render faithfully. If I
have failed , as I fear I may have done, I must hope
for indulgence in the fact that, although forty years
have now past since the poem was written, I am the
first who has ventured to translate it into English.
Great and genuine will be the recompense for my
labour should any be induced thereby to investi
gate and study more carefully a language as rich
in the attractions it affords, as it is worthy of the
attention of the linguist and the scholar.
A. C. S.
WHITEHALL YARD,
April 8th, 1875.

C2
:
 THE DEMON .

FIRST CANTO.

I.

The exiled Demon, Spirit of Despair,

Was flying o'er earth's sinful climes ;
While in his weary brain rose , dark and bare,

Remembrances of happier times ,

When, pure and holy, in the realms of light
He shone amid God's cherubim ;
When, coursing in its golden tracks at night,
The fleeting Comet ever would delight
To interchange a smile with him ;
22 THE DEMON .

When, through the circling ether's vast extent,

Thirsting some knowledge to achieve,
He watch'd the movements of the firmament,
And all its wonders could perceive;
When he could love and still believe,
First of creation , happy and devout,
Guiltless of sin and ignorant of doubt ;
Nor had his tranquil mind beset
A range of fruitless centuries past in ill ...
O

His brain could hold no more and yet

The past, the lost came crowding still!

II .

Long - homeless and irresolute

Roam'd o'er the desert earth the proud outcast,
While, as a minute tracks a minute,
So rollid the ceaseless centuries past,
Unvarying in their endless stream .
O'er the vile earth he ruled supreme,
 FIRST CANTO . 23

Sowing in apathy sin’s fatal seeds ;

No being there could check his whim,
Or bid defiance to his wicked deeds ;
And sin began to weary him.

III.

When downwards he his course inclining

Discerns the Caucasus below .

Behold ! Kazbék , (') like aa diamond shining,

Beams in its wealth of endless snow ,
And far beneath, in winding banks' embrace,
As in a cleft where serpents breed their race ,
The waters of the Darial ( Y) flow ;
And Terek ( ), tossing foam amid his rocks,
As lions shake their shaggy manes,
Majestic thunders on, and feather'd flocks,
Hov'ring aloft amid the azure plains,
24 THE DEMON .

Hark to the words the waters echo forth ;

And from the south the golden clouds,
Wafted along in fleecy crowds,
Escort him on his passage north ;
While sullen crags, in ever low'ring group ,
The eddies and the surge among ,

Drowsily nodding, o'er the waters stoop

To watch the waves that creep along ;
And castle towers upon the rocks on high,
Frowning athwart the rising mists,
As guards the mountain gateways fortify :
Dumb giant-limb'd antagonists !
Thus wild and wonderful around

Lay all the world ; but with profound

Disdain did the imperious Spirit now
His glance o'er God's creation spread,
Whilst on the surface of his lofty brow
No sign of interest could be read.
 FIRST CANTO . 25

IV.

And lo ! the beauties of another scene

Before his deadened gaze expand :

Afar in spreading folds of budding green
The vales of Georgia may be scann'd ,
A joyous stately tract of land !
Ruins, where once tall pillar'd towers had been ;
Whispering brooks, whose pebbly bed
Nought but the richest colour'd stone pervades ;
Rose-bowers, where nightingales are said
To sing the praises of the bright -eyed maids
Who to their tuneful love are dead ;
Shades, that the widely overspreading plane
Forms with its ivy -plaited boughs ;
Groves, where the timid red deer browse,
Or from the heat a cool repose obtain ;
Leaves, lucent, sportive, murmuring ;
Voices that thro' the valley ring,
[ again ;
And thousand flowers that breathe and breathe
26 THE DEMON .

And noontide with voluptuous rays ;

And fragrance that the night conveys
In fresh’ning dew , with her thin veil of white ;
And lustrous stars, like the entrancing light
The Georgian in her eye displays.
But in the fallen Spirit's fleshless breast,
Except a cold and envious thought,
Nature, in all her fairest raiment dress’d ,
No vernal power, no new sensation brought
And all that coldly round his eye glanced o'er
Unmoved , he only scorned and hated more.

V.

Within a broadly-based court-yard

Had grey -hair’d Goudal raised his castle walls.
What tears it cost to build those sumptuous halls !
How long the slaves had labour'd hard !
From morn upon the mountain sward
 FIRST CANTO. 27

In silence fell the ramparts' low'ring shade

There in the rock had winding steps been made,
Descending from the castle flank,
Whence, tripping joyfully across the dale,
Tamára, heedless of her stately rank,
1

And hid in beauty by a snow -white veil,

Sought water at Aragwa's bank.

VI.

Long had those towers nor life nor vigour shown,

But frown'd upon the vale below.
This day the wines in goblets flow ,
And loud resounds the Zurna's (1) happiest tone :
All are invited in the land,
For Goudal plights his daughter's hand.
Upon the ramparts, which the kinsfolk fill,
The bride amid her maidens sits ;

In song and revelry time flits;

While now , half hid behind aa distant hill,
The sun a parting ray transmits.
28 THE DEMON .

And beating time the virgin chorus sings ;

And lo ! a tambourine in hand,
From out the group the bride in rapture springs,
While dancing lighter than a bird she skips ;
Then stops and smiles, yet knows not why.
In humid lustre beams her eye,

And hope and love breathe through her balmy lips :

Then suddenly, with eyebrows slightly bent,
She bows,—and still in movements fleet,
Once more upon the carpet's full extent
Hover and glide her heavenly feet ;
And glad with all that youth beguiles,
In innocence and faith she smiles.

In sooth, no moon-shed rays that through the night

O’er merry rippling waters dance
In grace or beauty or in subtle light
Could ever emulate that glance.
 FIRST CANTO . 29

VII .

I swear by midnight's watchful star,

By sunset's glow, by orient's azure skies,
No Tartar Khan, no Persian Shah,
Or any other earthly Tzar,
In all their glory ever kiss'd such eyes ;
Nay, never in the sunbeams warm
That play around, that light the harem through,
Did any fountain with its pearly dew
Besprinkle such a tender form ;
Nor yet did ever hand that Nature made,
Or softly o'er a loved one's forehead stray'd,
With fondling touch untwine such hair.
No — since the day the world lost Paradise,
Never, I swear, did southern sun see twice
A living lower that bloom'd so fair.
30 THE DEMON .

VIII .

Ah ! 'tis for the last time she dances now

Alas ! ere morn in thraldom's chains art thou

Whom aged Goudal's richest hoards endow,
Sweet child of joy, so free from care !
Henceforth for ever will be changed thy fate :
For thee, in all their mystery, await
A foreign yoke and home elsewhere.
And often in her breast would penetrate
A secret doubt, and cloud her face :
But all her movements were so full of life,
Her eyes with such sweet innocence were rife,
Her budding form so full of grace,
That had the Demon at that moment flown

Down past the castle towers, and her espied,

Recalling angels whom he once had known ,
He would have turned away — and sigh’d. ...
 FIRST CANTO . 31

IX .

He saw her !-- For a moment in his breast

Awakes a pang ; then, through his mind distress'd,

A strange and wondrous transport thrills ;
A rapturous sound from heavenly source
The desert of his bosom fills ;
And now again he's conscious of the force
Of beauty, godliness, and love.
Lung in bewilderment he stays to view
The scene, -- aud as at night above
Star follows star from out the veil of bue,
So visions sweep across his mind
Of joys in Heaven long left behind ;
And, chain'd by hidden power, he vainly seeks
To quell this new despondency .
But lo ! within, a sudden feeling speaks
In tones of bygone purity :
Is it regeneration ? all the sweet
32 THE DEMON .

Skilled speeches for seduction requisite

Are dumb—nay, have his thoughts grown dim ?
Has he forgotten them ? ... No, to forget
The power God never gave to him
Nor, had He, would he have accepted it !! ...

X.

Burying the rowels in his steed

And hastening with impatient speed ,
At sunset to the feast the bridegroom rides.
Already has he reached the rocky sides
That belt Aragwa’s limpid stream ;
Behind him, through the branches gleam
The camels, following in their glittering gear,>

As labouring on, with presents bound,

And bells that through the air resound,
They now are hid and now again appear.
Tis he, the ruling prince of Sinodal,
 FIRST CANTO . 33 '

Who leads himself this lordly band.

With leathern belt his waist is spann'd ;
O'er sword and knife the setting sunbeams fall,
And on his back firm buckles hold

A carbine worked with flowers of gold.

The evening breeze in wanton sport plays round
His Tchoukhá’s ( ) sleeves, or stirs the braid
That round it in thick folds is laid ;
Cover'd with foam his charger paws the ground,
And, trembling as the shadows grow ,
Karabách's () nurseling views the ridge askance,
Where, far beneath, the playful ripples dance..
Narrow and threatening is the road they seek :
The one side yawns with depths below ,
The other lowers with riven crag and peak.
' Tis late ! athwart the fog the rosy streak
Of sunset fades : daylight is gone
The caravan moves faster on .

D
34
THE DEMON .

XI .

Behold , a chapel by the wayside stands

Here, vilely slain by some revengeful hands,
A noble prince had long found rest ;
And when aa traveller to some feast or fight
Speeding, would pass that spot, the hour despite,,
He at the shrine a prayer address’d .
That prayer, 'twas said , would stay in strife

The Mussulman's revengeful knife.

But now the bridegroom no such prayer inspires ;
He scorns the custom of his ancient sires.

With cunning dreams of his awaiting bliss

The Demon turns his thoughts aside :
Amid the rising shades he seems to kiss
The warm lips of his yielding bride. ...
But look ! in front across the roadway flit
Gaunt forms; and see ! the frowning trees emit
A flash — Who's there ? no voice replies—
The shadows only darker rise. . .
 FIRST CANTO . 35

Drawing his popakh (*) o'er bis brow

The prince, firm on his saddle now,
Gazes in silence round, yet flinches not.
Then, gun in hand, he spurs his steed-
The whip -thong rings — with eagle speed
He dashes on . But hark ! another shot
Echoes the lonely vale along,
And then a shout, a stifled groan
The combat had not lasted long :
The craven Georgians all had flown.

XII .

Cold stillness reigns :—The ground whereon

The horsemen fell, the camels cluster round,
Awe -struck - while ever and anon ,

Through the hush'd night, their tinkling bells

Sack'd is the sumptuous caravan , [ resound.

And o'er each slaughter'd Christián

D 2
36 THE DEMON .

The birds of prey in hunger swoop.

No fashion'd slab, no marble group,,
Shall ʼmid a cloister deck their clay
Not with their sires shall slumber they !
No mothers well-beloved, no sisters dear,
Assembling from their distant homes each year,
Shall, veil'd in white, around their graves appear,
With broken hearts to mourn their loss :

But here in memory , on the lonely way,

Beneath a rock, some kindly hand one day
Shall raise a rude but hallowed cross,
And round it will the spreading ivy play,
As verdantly it twining grows
In each successive budding spring ;
And oft its holy shade will bring
New life, new energy, to those
Who, weary , there may seek repose. . .
 FIRST CANTO . 37

XIII .

As hastes the fleeting forest stag

O'er shrub and bush , past rock and crag ,
>

The courser speeds along — then, stopping short,

His ears drink in the breeze, and fears distort
His wildly gleaming bloodshot eyes ;
With sharply-ringing hoof he paws the ground,,
While now , in heighten'd terror glancing round,

He once more madly onward flies. ...

Bent o'er his mane his rider lies ;
The stirrups hold his feet ; from side to side
His body reeling, nerveless, sways.
Behold , the reins his hands no longer guide,
And o'er the saddle-cloth in patches wide
A crimson blood-stream trickling strays....
Oh ! bravely had the famous charger sped
Like lightning from the raging fight,
And yet the Ossetine's relentless lead
Had reached his master through the night.
38 THE DEMON .

XIV.

And grief and sorrow were in Goudal's halls,

And in the court a gathering great :
What foaming steed is this that staggering falls
Upon the flagstones at the gate ?
Whose is the corpse so lately full of life ?
And why that fiery glance betokening strife ,
That furrowed brow with signs of pain ?
His Tchoukhá's deeply stain'd with gore,
And see ! one hand, never to open more,
Has stiffen'd fast upon the mane.
Nay, come, sweet bride, thou need’st no longer gaze;
Thy tryst has not been long deferr’d ;
See, who is this beneath the porch they raise ? —
Thy prince has kept his bridegroom word.
 FIRST CANTO . 39

XV.

Like the fierce bolt that thunder-clouds impel,

God's wrath on Goudal's household came.
Upon her couch Tamára senseless fell,
With choking sobs that shook her frame ;
Hot tears slid gathering down her cheek ,
Her panting bosom heaved with blighted love :
And now in wondrous melody above
She seems to hear a Spirit speak :
Weep not, my child, thy tears are but in vain ;
“ E'en that sweet dew can never rouse again
* Thy loved -one's corpse. Why weep ? why sigh ?
* Thy tears will only burn thy cheek , and stain
6. The lustre of that glorious eye.
* Thy lover will not prize thy grief this night;
“ He sees thee not, he's far away.
“ Through Heaven, in glory bursting, dims his sight
2

“ The radiance of an endless day.

40 THE DEMON .

“ What are the hopes and plans of life at best,

“ But faint and trifling dreams that fade ?
“ What, then, can be to Heaven's accepted guest,
“ The mourning of aa feeble maid ?
“ Oh ! no ; in thy dear grief, in all thy trust,
Believe, sweet earthly angel mine,
“ No fickle lot of perishable dust
“ Is worth one precious tear of thine.

“ Above in the ocean of air

“ Float, without rudder or sail,

“ The stars that unceasingly glare
“ Bright through the sky's azure veil
- Across the vast meadows of space,
- In soft and fleece - coloured crowds

" That halt not, that leave not a trace,

Speed the unscaleable clouds ;
“ At parting and meeting the same,
“ Know they nor sorrow nor joy ;
“ The future for them has no aim,
“ Dreams of the past no alloy :
 FIRST CANTO . 41

“ Should misfortune and sorrow give birth

“ To aa sad and harrowing day,
“ Think not of the doings on earth,
“ Be thou as careless as they !

“ When sable night, in all her shadows cloaked,

“ Shall settle on the mountain crest ;

“ When calm shall come, by magic word invoked ,

Upon the wearied world at rest ;
“ When on the rocks that brook the fire of day
Through the dry grass a fresh’ning breeze shall
“ And hiding there the busy birds, [ play,

“ Refresh'd , shall whisper loving words, [ bowers,

“ And softly, ʼmid the thick vine-spreading
“ In pale bewilderment, the nightly flowers
“ Shall open to the dew absorbid ;
“ When o'er the hills the moon , full -orb’d,,
Shall, gently peeping, shed her golden rays,
“ And seeing thee shall smile, shall stop to gaze ;
42 THE DEMON .

“ Then o'er thy head my watch I keep,

“ Then till the blushing daybreak be thy guest,
“ Will soothe with golden dreams thy troubled
“ And clothe thy silken lids with sleep.” [ breast,

XVI.

The voice above her ceased ... in tones afar

Re-echoing died away the sound....
Springing on foot she glanced around .
Within her breast all passions were at war :
Grief, joy, emotion , fear, despair,
In all their tyrant force were there ;
Her soul that swell’d within her sought to burst
Its bonds apart ; her veins were fired ,
And as she listening stood , it seem'd at first
That magic voice had not expired .
 FIRST CANTO. 43

But e'er the morning rose, the wish'd -for rest

Came stealing o'er her weary eyes ;
And now prophetic dreams her thoughts oppressid ,
She seem'd to see a vision rise :

In weird - like beauty o'er her head ,

All cloak’d in mist that widely spread
Around, a being wondrous shone above ;
His eyes, though sternly fix’d, were full of love,
And in their sorrowing glance, it seem'd
That pity for her softly gleam'd.
That was no form from Heaven, no angel meant
To soothe her sorrow , be her guardian saint ;
Around his locks in circle bright
No aureole shed its sacred light ;
That was not Hell's accursed fiend - oh , no !
As sheds the eve its clearest ray,

So shone he o'er her like the twilight glow ,

Resembling neither night nor day...
44 TIE DEMON .

SECOND CANTO.

I.

“ O FATHER , father, be not harsh with me !

“ Tamára is thy child : be kind !
“ I'm weeping, look !—these burning tears — and
" What traces more have left behind. ( see

“ O father, let me turn my thoughts above

" Go, tell my suitors I replied ::
“ The cold grey earth possesses all I love ;
2

6 I will not be another's bride .

“ For since the day his corpse was laid at rest

“ Beneath the shade of yonder hill ,
“ A cunning spirit ever wrings my breast
“ With madd’ning thought, against my will .
 SECOND CANTO . 45

“ Each night a strange and fearful dream distorts

My sleep - in vain I try to pray :
“ Alas ! I can no longer chain my thoughts ;
“ They wander from my God away.

My forehead burns, my very blood seems fire,

“ I languish on - I pine, I fade ;
My soul is harassed by a strange desire.
“ O father, guard me ! be my aid !
“ Within some chaste and holy cloister let
Thy thoughtless child the world forswear,
And, praying at the altar, then forget
• My grief, to find my Saviour there. ...
Yes, let me, father, bid the world farewell,
“Since all for me is wrapt in gloom ;
“ The convent only waits me, and the cell
“ Shall deck my sorrow - be my tomb.”
46 THE DEMON .

II.

And now , within their drear and lone retreat,

The nuns received their hapless guest ;
With holy cloistral garb, in custom meet,
They purely clothed her virgin breast.
Yet, lawless still, beneath this hallow'd dress,
Wild thoughts were raging as before ;
Her mad despair, her passion, was not less
Than when she jewelld corsets wore.
As, loudly pealing, joyful songs divine.
Rang forth in every accent clear,,
When all were bent in fervour at the shrine,
The same strange murmurings reach'd her ear ;
And then sometimes across the vaulted space,
While rose the incense at the mass,

Hovering above, a form would pass

That woke no sound, that left behind no trace,
But, softly, like a star-enticing ray,
It seem'd to lure her, beckon her away.
 SECOND CANTO . 47

III.

Cool'd by the mountain breeze, the convent lay,

Half hid, within a lonely glen ;
While, stately round it, set in bold array ,

Tall poplars bent their heads — and when

Night, gently stealing, o'er the valley fell,
The light that flicker'd in the young nun’s cell,
Flash'd through the branches now and then,
And 'neath the airy shade the almond gave,
Each cross was mutely watching o'er its grave,
And round them twitt'ring, fairy birds
In chorus warbled tender words,
While , gurgling sportively, the icy rills
That foam'd the rocks and bushes past,
Would meet within the vale at last,
To blend the waters of the bordering hills,
And, flowing through the ivy bowers,
Would softly lave the half-hid flowers.
 48 THE DEMON .

IV .

No sooner had the dewy morning broke,

Than Nature from her heavy slumbers woke :
The clouds, all freshen'd by their night's repose,
Soar'd from the hills, and out the valley rose
A gently curling thread of smoke .
In fervour, turning to the glowing east,
The Múezzins (*) invoked to prayer ;
Trembling the convent bell, as day increased,
Vibrated o'er the silent air,
While oft descending through a rocky glade,
With pitcher in her hand, some Georgian maid,
Would to the limpid stream repair. ...
Snow -capp'd, the summits of the mountain chain
Adorn'd the sky, and ever and again
Their sides seemed bathed in lilac hue,
While, peering in the plains of blue,
 SECOND CANTO. 49

Higher than all the peaks he lower'd upon ,,

Imperious and erect, afar,
In brightly glitt'ring vesture, shone
Kazbék , the turbann'd mountain Tzar.

V.

But mute Tamára lay, her heart still fraught

With guilty dreams, and even Nature brought
No holy rapture, no relief.
For her the radiance of the Summer days,
The gloom of night, the morn, the sunset's rays
Were only now a source of grief ;
And often, when the nightly shadows crept
To shed their dusk within her cell,
When all the world was hush'd , and Nature slept,
Before the crucifix she fell,
And lay, half senseless, on the stone. ...
Then , through the silent air, a moan
E
50 THE DEMON .

Would sometimes reach the passing traveller's ear ;

And he would think that 'twere, indeed,
Some mountain -spirit, chain'd, and drawing near,
Shudder, and urge his jaded steed .

VI .

And now athwart the casement bar,

Herself scarce even knowing why,
Absorb’d in lonely pensiveness, afar
Tamára strains her watchful eye.
Whole days she sits there, pale and dumb,
Still, something whispers, “ He will come.'
Alas ! He had not shown himself for nought,
Or fruitlessly imbued her brain.
Oh ! no,, that weary glance of ,
his, that sought
For pity, had not been in vain ;
Already long she pines with inward love,
With fever burns each tender limb.
She tries so hard to raise her prayers above

Her heart, though, only prays to him !

 SECOND CANTO. 51

When , tired at last, she seeks her couch at night,

Still is her bosom wrung with pain.
She pants — she gasps - and, seized with sudden
Trembling, she springs on foot again . [ fright,
Her shoulders flush , sweet passion lights her face,
A teardrop from her eyelid drips,
Her arms would seek another's fond embrace,
And kisses melt upon her lips .

VII.

O’er Georgia's crests the night-enshrouding dew

Already lay, when through the air,
Stealing, the Demon to the convent flew ,
As he was wont, to wander there.
But long, oh ! long, he did not dare
E 2
52 THE DEMON .

To break that holy cloister's calm repose,

And for a moment in his breast arose

A sense of shame, as 'twere to stay

His cruel scheme. Pensive the walls around

He roam'd, and at his touch, along the ground,

Trembling, the leaves would shrink away ;
While now aloft he rais'd his glance to where
A lamplight from the window shone.
Still wakeful was Tamára watching there,
Though fading daylight now had gone.
And hark ! the nightly calm upon
The tender music of the Chingar ( ) broke,
And softer even still a sweet voice spoke.
Oh ! 'twas unto his raptured ears
As though those notes were dropping tears,
As if in heaven, by holy aid,
For earth that song were surely made.
Oh ! could that be a former mate

That pitied him, that mourn'd his fate,

 SECOND CANTO . 53

And now was singing of the joyful past ?

For the first time the Demon felt at last

The tender force of grief and love :

He strove to hasten from the spot, aghast
His drooping wings refused to move !
And, wonder ! out that lurid lid
A heavy teardrop softly slid . ...
Yes, till this day amid the ivy green,
That clusters near that lonesome cell >,
The scalding mark upon a stone is seen
Where that unearthly teardrop fell.

VIII.

Now bold he enters, full of hopeful dreams,

And all his evil thoughts succumb.
O blissful rapture ! to his mind it seems
The outset of new life has come.
54 THE DEMON .

He feels the restless overpow'ring sense

Of wakening dread, of secret fear ;
He feels the tremor of that vague suspense
When some one that we love is near ;

And he, so proud, so prone to dare,

Stands rooted, almost quiv'ring there. ...
He enters-Lo ! before him stands
An angel , and his glance commands
And dazzles as it beams. To him in dread

The lovely sinner trembling clings ;

Around his forehead holy rays are shed ;
He guards her with his outspread wings.
And see ! that sacred lustre brings
A dimness o'er the Outcast's blinded sight ;
He strives to meet that radiant look

No welcome there- clear through the stilly night

Rings out this pitiless rebuke :
 SECOND CANTO . 55

IX .

Demon, thou recreant fiend, what powers invite ?

“ Who has invoked thee 'mid the shades of night ?
“ Here are no worshippers of thine !
“ Till now no evil breathed these walls within ;
" Here shalt thou leave no vicious taint of sin .
66
Away ! this sanctuary is mine."

The Demon smiled but coldly in reply,

As, pondering, his brow grew black..
Envy once more lit ur his sunken eye,
And all his former hate came back .

" Leave her, thou com’st too late, she's mine," he

“ There is no further need of thee ; [ cried ;
“ Her destiny thou never can’st decide,
“ Thou art not judge of her or me. [pride.
““ Her heart I've seal’d, have long inspired with
56, TILE DEMON .

“ Haste thee unto thy realms above ;

“ Here can thy sanctity no more abide.
“ Here I alone command and love !"

With lingering glance of sorrow at the maid

The angel mournfully withdrew,
As slowly, with his silver wings outspread,
He Heavenward through the ether flew....

X.

TAMARA .

Oh ! who art thou ? thy words are strangely wild .

Who sent thee here ? What would'st thou seek ?
Art thou of heaven or hell ?

DEMOX .

Thou lovely child !

1
TAMARA .

But who art thou ? Oh ! answer-speak !

 SECOND CANTO . 57

DEMON .

I am that voice that thou hast heard at night

Amid the moonlight's silvery beams ;
I am He whose whisp'rings roused a strange delight,
Whose grief and sorrow thou hast guess’d aright,
Whose features thou hast seen in dreams ;
I am He whose glance will wither hope before
Its flowers their earliest leaves unroll ;
I am He whom, no one loving, all abhor,
Accursed by every living soul.
I rule o'er Science ; as Freedom's king I reign ;
Ages and space are nought to me ;
I am that ill my earthly slaves sustain ;
I am Heaven's eternal foe, am Nature's bane ;
And yet, behold , I kneel to thee.
To thee, beloved, with contrite heart I bear
The secret love of endless years ;
To thee I bring my earliest -utter'd prayer,

My hallow'd grief, my first -shed tears.

Oh ! hear me, sweet one, pity my despair
58 THE DEMON .

One look of hope , one word from thee

Would give me Heaven, for in thy love array'd
A sacred radiance that can never fade,
Could angels so not welcome me ?
Oh ! hear me. Since that joyful hour
I saw thee first in all thy maiden state,
I grew quite changed ; I even seem'd to hate
My immortality, my power .
And then , unconsciously, I would complain
That earthly pleasures were not mine.
To live aa life unlike thee gave me pain ;
I long'd to merge my life in thine.
Upon my bloodless heart aa brighter ray
Would sometimes through the darkness break ;
While yet that wound wherein my sorrow lay
Would rankle like a venom'd snake.

Oh ! what, oh ! what is my eternity,

My fief of endless realms untrod ,
But empty sounding words, devoid of thee !
A gorgeous temple with no God !
 SECOND CANTO. 59

TAMARA .

Oh ! leave me, leave me, demon that thou art !

Silence, thy looks thy life betray.
O God !-Alas, I dare not pray ;
Some venom rages in my feeble heart.

What mean these fever'd thoughts, this wild

[ desire ?
Thy fatal love too well I know ;
Thy glance is death ,thy words are poison --fire. ...
But tell me why thou lov'st me so ?

DEMON

Why ? lovely one ! Alas, I scarce can say,

Save that a change my life came o'er,
When, seeing thee, the wreath of thorns away
From off my sinful brow I tore .

Then, forthwith breaking with the awful past,

I felt new joy within me rise ;
My lofty pride had reach'd its term at last ;
My heaven, my hell were in thine eyes !
60 THE DEMON .

I love thee, oh ! I love thee, not as thou

Could'st ever love, or man love thee :
But wildly, as, behold, I love thee now
With all my immortality.
Nay, since the firmament was form’d , thy face,
Thy form , were graven on my soul .
Before me in the plains of boundless space
I seem'd to see thy image roll,
And often would thy name's sweet tone
Attract my ear ; and when in Heaven I dwelt,
Amid its splendour, all its joys, I felt
Thee only wanting — thou alone !
Oh ! If, Tamára, thou could'st know the pain,
The bitter anguish, all thy life,
From age to age, with passion rife,
To taste all pleasures, and yet still complain,
For all thy sin no word of praise obtain,
Nor for thy acts of good—reward ;
But living solely for thyself, detest
Thy own existence : ever be in quest
 SECOND CANTO . 61

Of love, yet doom'd to be abhorr’d ;

To see all, feel all , know of all the fate,
And 'gainst tlıy will eternally to hate
All joys that earth and heaven afford .
No sooner did I fall in my disgrace,
For ever cursed by God's decree,
Than, gently slack’ning, Nature's warm embrace
To endless time grew cold for me.
Then, while I sped along the ether blue,
Still onwards dashing, rose to me in view
The planets I had known before ;
Their golden bands they wove around the sun
In bridal dance -- what then ? -alas not one

Would deign to recognise me more !

Then in despair I sought the plains of hell
For other outcasts, but in vain ;

The forms and faces I had known so well

I could not recognise again .

62 THE DEMON .

And shudd'ring, forth once more I fled through

Not knowing whither nor yet why. [space,
Renounced by all, to me,, in my disgrace,
Was earth as speechless as the sky,
As when , 'mid billows raging high ,
A bark drifts onward without helm or sail ;

Or at the dawn of day, athwart the pale

Blue- vaulted heaven, a tatter'd shred
Of frowning cloud steals trackless and alone,
No harbour for it, and to all unknown
Whither it flies or whence it fled .

Not long had I to wrestle with mankind,

Not long had I to teach it sin ,
Το spurn all beauty in the human mind,
To quell all noble thoughts therein ;
Not long — all sparks of faith and frankness were
For ever quench'd e'er they got free.
To think that fools and hypocrites would dare
To try to thwart or hinder me !
 SECOND CANTO. 63

Sometimes unto the darkest chasm I flew

To hide myself, and , as the shadows grew

At night, would sweep across the sky, >

As dash wild meteors, and at my view

Dazzled would grow the traveller's eye,

And shrieking, down some yawning cleft he'd fall,

Helpless, unpitied, and alone.
But soon e'en evil ceased to please, and all
Delight grew now to me unknown.
Then, 'mid the thunder -clouds, I often sought,
As lightning -habited I flew ,
To quench, by battling with the storms, all
My mind with other dreams imbue. ( thought

In vain ! My grief, my heart'sdespair could nought

Dispel, nor rapture ought renew .
What are the sorrows of which men complain,
What mortal's past or present care,
To one short minute of my endless pain,
Of my unrecognised despair ?
64 THE DEMON .

Oh ! what is life, its misery, its grief,

Its momentary acts of ill ?
Is there not hope ? Is there not the belief,
Though judged , there may be pardon still ?
Not such is mine! My woe will never quit,
Assuaged my grief shall never be.
Alas ! There never will be end to it,
As never there will be to me !

It twines around - it makes my heart its own ,

A snake with which no force can cope,
It ceaseless presses on my thought like stone,
A sepulchre of shatter'd hope !

TAMARA .

Why should thy plaint be thus address'd to me ?

Why unto me thy griefmake known ?
Doubtless thou hast once gravely sinn'd .....

DEMON .

'Gainst thee ?
 SECOND OANTO . 65

TAMARA .

We may be heard . .

DEMON.

We are alone !

TAMARA .

And God ?

DEMON .

His glance on us shall never dwell.

His realm is Heaven, He scarce can spare
For earth a thought.

TAMARA .

His sentence ? oh ! and Hell ?

DEMON .

Tamára, shall not I be there !

 66 THE DEMON .

TAMARA .

Thou, fearful sufferer, whoe'er thou art,

Whatever Spirit thou may'st be,
I feel compassion gaining on my heart,
I cannot help but hark to thee.
But, if deception be thy only goal,
If thou should'st only strive thereat,
Oh ! spare me, spare me ! ruin not my soul!
What glory would there be in that ?
Am I, then, dearer than those souls on high,
Angels, that woke no thought of thine ?
Are they not, too, as beautiful as I ?
Their chastity as pure as mine ?
Nay, swear to me by all thy heart reveres,
By all-oh ! stay, can'st thou not see my tears ?
Can'st thou not see I am afraid ?

Thou, who art mighty, thou, whose powerful mind

Knows all, I pray thee pity me — be kind !
Have mercy on a helpless maid !
 SECOND CANTO . 67

Oh ! swear to me that thou wilt give up strife,

Thy character from sin revoke !
O God ! are there no binding oaths in life ?
Can sacred promises be broke ? ...

DEMON .

By the first hour that heralded fair time,

And by eternity, in sooth,
By all the hideous infamy of crime,
By the immortal fame of truth,
By the dire torments that attend disgrace,
By Victory's short-living dream ,
By all that nullifies esteem ,
By all that's beautiful, by love and grace,,
Yes, by our meeting, by what in my heart
Would leave me hopeless were we now to part ;
By all my subjects, those unhappy hordes
Whose number ever strength’ning grows,
By the archangels, with their flaming swords,
My cold and ever watchful foes ;
F 2
68 THE DEMON .

By Hell unspann'd, by Heaven's untold expanse,

By all that earth contains most dear,
Nay, by the lustre of thy last-shed glance,
The sweetness of thy first -shed tear,
By these kind lips where perfume breathes
By these soft curls that deck thy brow, [within,
By grief and joy, by righteousness and sin,
Oh ! by the love that thrills me now , —
I swear, all vengeance shall be laid aside ;
I swear, to crush deceit, to quell my pride ;
I swear, that nothing, save thy love, shall guide,
No power shall govern me but thou .
[day,
Oh ! I would fain make peace with Heaven this
Would taste pure happiness, would love, would
Would once again believe in good ; ( pray,

And tear-drops of repentance would

Then cleanse my brow from execration free,
And leave it spotless, tranquil--fit for thee.
 SECOND CANTO. 69

'Tis I alone, who knew thee, could detect

All that was in thy heart secrete.
I chose thee for my deity elect,
I laid my empire at thy feet.
Yes, sweet one, for one glance of love from thee,
I tender all - earth, space, eternity !
I am in love, as I have been in sin,
Ever unchangeable and great.
The star-lit, ether-dighted realms within ,
Thee, regal dignities await.
There shalt thou reign as empress of the world ,
There shalt thou be my chosen bride,
Shalt view the mysteries of space unfurl'd,
And ever govern by my side.
Cold and regretless shalt thou view this sphere,
Where crime's inseparable from fate,
Where beauty only blossoms to grow sear,
Where all is miserable, where, without fear
No one can either love or hate .
70 THE DEMON .

Know'st thou, Tamára, what is mortal love ?

A febrile movement of the blood !

Years roll away — the pulse can scarcely move,

Love's wither'd branches cease to bud.

Who can resist new beauty's luring bait ?

Who, parting, never shed a tear ?
Who can withstand the tedium of fate,
The weariness of all things here ?
No, my beloved , believe, 'tis not thy lot
To perish in a living grave,
In silence, languish on this narrow spot,
Of brutal jealousy the slave.
' Mid uncongenial meagre-minded souls,
'Mid bitter enemies, deceiving friends,
Madden'd by hope, that fear, alas ! controls,
And care, that ceaselessly impends.
Oh, no ! Thou shalt not linger on and pray
Within these walls, unsought and wan,
No passion stirring thee - as far away
From the Divinity as man.
 SECOND CANTO . 71

Nay, sweet one, dry thy tears, thy care is brief,

Thou art reserv'd for other things,
Shalt change thy sorrow for another grief,
Shalt taste the joys of deeper springs.
Spurn former wishes - oh ! but hark to me !
Leave thou the world unto its fate !

O sweet one, in exchange I'll give to thee

Unbounded knowledge — all that's great !
Legions of slaves, thy smile their sole reward,
Shall bow and tremble at thy feet.
Shining battalions ever be thy guard ,
Obedient fairies form thy suite.
From the vast treasures of the Morning Star,
A. chaplet will I bear thee down,
And dewdrops, shaken from the flowers afar,
Shall shine like diamonds round thy crowu.
Undimm'd the sunset's softest-colour'd ray
Shall, blushing, circle round thy waist.
Sweet balm and bergamot throughout the day
Shall fill the air with odours chaste.
72 THE DEMON .

Thine eye I'll charm, with endless sights unknown,

Thine ear with wondrous sounds I'll please ;
I'll build thee sumptuous halls of precious stone,
I'll bend before thee on my knees,
I'll dive into the sea at thy behest.
I'll range the Heavens at thy call
Tamára, I will give thee all,
Oh ! but love me ! ....

XI .

And now unto his breast

He clasp'd her trembling form , and wildly press'd

His burning lips to hers. The tender prayer
That sought her quivering mouth was stifled there ;
His eyes met hers in all their might
They burnt her-Oh ! athwart the night
Shunless He glittered as a hovering blade. ...
The Evil One had overcome the maid .

Hark ! cleaving to the silent sky,

There burst aa wild, an aching cry
 SECOND CANTO . 73

In it was all !-reproach, love, passion, fear,

The first- felt disbelief in truth ,
A last farewell to all on earth most dear,

Farewell to Innocence and Youth .

XII .

'Twas in that dark and solemn midnight hour,

That, passing in his measured round
The maiden's cell, within the lonely tower,
The watchman thought he heard a sound
Could it be that of lip by lip caress'd ? —
Unholy doubt !-A feeble moan ,
A stifled shriek !—Then all again at rest,
And deathlike silence reign'd alone.
Soft was the night and still. Afar the breeze
Went sadly murni’ring through the waving trees;
Rippling along its whispering side,
The mountain stream alone replied.
74 THE DEMON .

To quell his sinful doubt, the holy man

Sought in his mind the needed prayer ;
Nor thought, while muttering through the words
The Fiend himself had refuge there ; [ he ran ,

Then with his trembling fingers cross'd his breast,

As once more onwards on his round he press’d .

XIII.

Calm as a sleeping Peri, and as sweet,

Tamára in her coffin lay ;
Her brow as pallid as the winding-sheet,
Her eyelids closed, their orbs no more to greet
Or shine upon another day.
Yet who, beholding, would not say
 SECOND CANTO . 75

They were but slumbering, or in sooth , lovelorn ,

Awaiting but aа lover's kiss—or morn ?
But ah ! in vain did fair Aurora's rays

Caress them through the golden mist ;

In vain , with silent grief, for many days
Those lips her friends and kinsfolk kiss'd.
No wak’ning ever came. Death's moveless seal

No power can break ; his act can none repeal.

Where all had been so full of fever'd life,
Where all e'en still with charm appear'd so rife,
Was now but dull and senseless clay ;
Yet still, though hueless and unmoved, behold
A smile as dark, and as the grave as cold,
Those lips too visibly betray.
What may that bitter smile express ?
Is it derision ? is it mental pain ?
Proud war with heaven ? for further life disdain ?

Or doubt unconquer'd ?—who can guess ?

Its meaning is conceal'd to all !
It lures the eye, as, on a wall,
76 THE DEMON .

In letters an inscription strangely old

Attracts the gaze and seems to hide,
Beneath those characters , a tale untold,
Or thoughts ofmen who long have died. ...
Long did the angel of corruption spare
That gentle victim as she rested there,
All motionless and void of breath .

Pure as the sculptured marble and as fair,

She lay so beauteous, yet her features were
Cold and mysterious as death .
Never Tamára’s festival attire,
With all the jewels of her lordly sire,
Had been as rich in former hours ;
For, lo ! her native valley's flowers
Pour round her lovingly their sweetest scent,
And gaily smile, as if they, too,
Press'd by her hand were of themselves content,
Like her, to bid the world adieu .
 SECOND CANTO. 77

XIV.
( there
Thronging, relations, neighbours, friends, came
Beating his bleeding breast in dumb despair,
Rode Goudal on his snow -maned steed .

Alas ! the aged prince o'erfraught with care

No more to mount that barb will heed.

The train had now set forth . Three days, three

Onwards with sadden'd hearts they press’d. ( nights,
Her ashes, buried with the wonted rites,
Among her ancestors shall rest !
In time gone by, one bearing Goudal's name,,
As robber and a bandit known ,
Had sworn, believing that his last hour came,
To build a chapel, rear'd alone
On granite rocks where only vultures haunt,
Where, as a lullaby, the tempest's chaunt
A dismal carol of their own. .
78 THE DEMON .

Soon on Kazbék, amid the drifted snow,

The consecrated chapel rose :
' Twas there at last the rocky soil below
The guilty robber found repose ;
And later, spite the wintry snows,
The rock was hewn into a burial-ground,
As if thus closer to the sky
The inmates dreaming heard no earthly sound,
Or nearer Heaven might warmer lie.
Vain care ! The dead absorbed in sleep profound,
Think not of grief or joy gone by. .

XV.

Lo ! soaring through the azure plains of space,

Tamára's erring soul in his embrace,
From earth a holy Angel flew .
Gently, as nearer Heaven they drew,
 SECOND CANTO . 79

He sought with words of comfort to allay

Her doubt and give her mind relief,
While with her contrite tears he wash'd away

The trace of former guilt and grief.

Already music from the realms of bliss
Could now be heard in rising swell,
When-Ah ! what awful majesty is this
That rises threatning from the vast abyss ?
It is the ghastly prince of Hell ! -
He came as mighty as the sweeping gale ;
He shone as lightning flashes shine;
He struck aeross their course, unearthly pale,
He proudly thunder'd, “ She is mine ! "
What terror through the gentle spirit thrill'd,
As, on the Angel's bosom bent,
A prayer to Heaven for aid she sent ,
Her future fate was now to be fulfill’d .
Once more before her now he stood
In all his power ; but, Heaven ! who would
Have known him now ? A horror overcame
80 THE DEMON .

All space, so deadly was his glance of flame,

So full of enmity and ill ;
Whilst from his swarthy face there came
As from the grave a vapour chill.

“ Avaunt ! ” the Messenger of Heaven replied,

66 Avaunt ! Grim Potentate of Hell.

Enough thou hast all sovereignty defied,

Thy power has had sufficient spell.
“ No longer is thy victim clothed in clay,
“ Her chains of sin have all been cast away ;
“ The hour of pain and trial is past.
“ Praise, glory, gratitude to God ! The day
“ For judgment has arrived at last.
“ Know that the Grace of Heaven is vast ;
“ Know that no power can cope with this !
“ Her tender soul was one of those whose life
“ Is but one moment of heartrending strife,
“ Of longed for, but untasted bliss.
 SECOND CANTO . 81

“ God from the purest ether gave them birth,

“ He formed them as the rarest gem .

“ Oh no ! They were not ever made for earth ,

“ Nor was earth ever made for them.

“ Avaunt ! Though dear thy victim purchased

[grace,
“ Yet hark ! they wait for her above.
“ She lived, she grieved, she loved — and heaven's
“ Is open to the child of love ! ” [embrace

Thus saying, on the tempter's face he sent

A shaft of stern and dazzling light,
And, fast his arms around the maiden bent,
Soar'd onward in his heavenward flight;
While wrath uncheck’d and passion vehement
Came o'er the baffled Demon's face,
And he again as formerly was left,
Of hope, of love, of paradise bereft,
Unpitied and alone in space ! ...

G
82 THE DEMON .

On the wild slope beneath the craggy hill

That frowns o'er Kaischaoura's (1 ) valley, still
The castle crumbling may be seen .
For childhood yet its ruins tales supply ;
It stands aa relic of the days gone by,
A monument of what has been !

Below , the earth is deck'd in green,

The wild flowers bloom, the sunbeams softly shed
Their genial rays, and straggling wide is spread
A hamlet o'er the wooded ground ;
Afar in foam the river's ripples play,
Oft tinkling caravans now wend their way,
And mingled sounds are heard around.
In endless youth, in beauty ever wild ,
Sweet Nature gambols like a careless child.
 SECOND CANTO . 83

But sad the castle stands with ruin'd walls

Where youth and beauty erewhile thrived,

Like some old man who mournfully recalls
The friends that he has long survived .
Alone its ghostly occupants await
The moon to shed her magic light,
Ere gently stealing forth they celebrate
Their revels through the phantom night.
The hermit spider weaves its web of grey,
The lizards darting on the ramparts play,
And all is still. Oft from its lair, awake,
O'er the paved porch will grimly steal a snake,
Now coild and now a glitt'ring shred,
Shining like some forgotten hero's sword
That lies a remnant on the battle sward,
Long useless to the arm that's dead .

Peace reigns and all is wild—no vestige lies

Of bygone times. The hand of centuries
84 THE DEMON .

Has cancell'd all, and nought says how

Those rolling years have past ; no signs recall
The name and glory of the proud Goudal,
Nor of his gentle daughter now.
But ʼmid the clouds upon the riven peak,
Where yet they peacefully recline,
Where storms are raging and the vultures shriek,
Still may be seen that burial shrine ;
And frowning grimly at the gateway there,
In bold array and dumb device,
Stand rocks as sentinels with snowy hair,
While on their chests, instead of breastplates, flare
Eternal mailed coats of ice.

Below hangs frowning o'er the yawning steep

The frozen avalanche, that seems to sleep ;
The snowstorm , as it sweeps in drifts along
Around the crumbling dusty wall,
Patrol like quavers now a dreary song,
Now mocking shouts the watchman's call.
No longer on the gravestones fall
 SECOND CANTO . 85

The tears of friends ; but tinted clouds alone,

Learning how strange a shrine is there,
To worship, thither from some distant zone
Sail softly through the morning air.
O'er all, Kazbék with gloomy rock -hewn crest
Watches his prey and frowns - none shall molest

That greedy tyrant's spoil, nor can

Again disturb their everlasting rest,
The ever during wail of man.

THE END .
 NOTES

(1.) Kazbék , a mountain in the Caucasus, the height of Mont

Blanc.

(2.) Darial, a mountain stream , flowing through a defile of that

name.

( 3.) Terek, a rapid river that rises at the foot of Mount

Khokhi.
(4.) Zurna, a wind instrument, like a fute .
(5.) Tchoukhá, a cloak with hanging sleeves.
(6.) Karabách, a country celebrated for its fine breed of
horses.

(7.) Papakh , a tall cap of sheepskin, with cloth crown .

(8.) Múezzins, an order of priests.
(9.) Chingar, a kind of guitar.
(10.) A valley in Georgia .
 $

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 891.7156
JDS
AUG 8 '84
 UNIVERSITY OF MINNESOTA
wils
891.7L56 JDS
Lermontov , Mikhail I Ur evich , 1814-814
The demon :

3 1951 002 404 520 N