CONTENTS.


PAGE
FROM VLADIMIR VLADISLAVLEF.
Rhymes and Reason[1]
FROM LERMONTOF.
The Angel[3]
The Voyage[5]
Prayer[6]
Thanksgiving[7]
On Death of Pushkin[8]
Dream[9]
Clouds[11]
Prayer[12]
How weary! How dreary![14]
Alone I pass along the lonely Road[15]
Men and Waves[17]
Ballad: The Queen of the Sea[18]
The Prophet[21]
When—Then[23]
My Native Land[24]
To —— [26]
The Dagger[27]
No! not for thee[29]
Dispute[30]
“Why” [35]
Moscow[36]
FROM PUSHKIN.
I wander down the noisy Streets[37]
Anacreontic[39]
To his Wife[40]
Let me not lose my Senses, God[41]
I’ve overlived Aspirings[43]
Peter the Great[44]
The Prophet[45]
Play, my Kathleen[47]
A Monument[48]
The Poet[49]
FROM NADSON.
Pity the stately Cypress Trees[51]
FROM NEKRASOF.
Te Deum[52]
The Prophet[54]
Offer my Muse a Friendly Hand[55]
Dream[56]
A Sick Man’s Jealousy[57]
The Landlord of Old Times[59]
The Russian Soldier[61]
FROM MAIKOF.
A Midsummer Night’s Dream[62]
Who was He?[64]
The Easter Kiss[66]
On Lomonossof[67]
Propriety[68]
The Singer[69]
A Little Picture[70]
The Alpine Glacier[73]
The Mother[74]
The Kiss refused[77]
The Snowdrop[78]
A Smile and a Tear[79]
FROM COUNT TOLSTOI.
Believe it not[80]
The Scolding[81]
FROM VLADIMIR VLADISLAVLEF.
Reflection[82]
The Would-be Nun[83]
The Schoolboy’s Devil[84]
POPULAR SONG.
The Gipsy Maid[87]
FROM TYOUCHEF.
Scarce cooled from Midday Heat[89]
The Spring Storm[90]
FROM PRINCE VYAZEMSKI.
The Troika[91]
FROM LEBEDEF.
Theodora[93]
FROM H.
The Lie’s Excuse[95]
FROM DERJAVIN.
The Stream of Time[96]
NATIONAL SONGS.
Marriage[97]
The Grain[98]
Wedding Gear[99]
FROM DOROSHKEVISH.
Sebastopol[101]
FROM POLONSKI.
On Skobelef[102]
FROM KRYLOF.
Fable—The Swan, the Pike, the Crab[103]
CHILD’S SONG.
Little Birdie[105]
FROM LAL.
Advice[107]
THE TITULAR COUNCILLOR.
The Titulyárnyi Sovétnik[109]
FROM K. P.
No! I can ne’er believe[110]
To the Poet Maikof[112]
FROM SHENSHIN (FET.).
A Russian Scene[113]
Tryst[114]
FROM PLESHEEF.
Spring[115]
Passion[116]
FROM E. KYLAEF.
Billows[117]
FROM COUNT T.
No Half-measures[118]

FROM THE RUSSIAN OF
VLADIMIR VLADISLAVLEF.

From my poor rhymes you turn your face,

From my allurements flee;

So shuns the vane the wind’s embrace,

And scorns his minstrelsy.