FOOTNOTES:
[1] This poem partakes of a prophecy. Lermontof was himself killed in a duel on the slopes of the Caucasus.
CLOUDS.
(AN EXPERIMENT IN RUSSIAN DACTYLS.)
Cloudlets ethereal wandering ceaselessly,
Floating in pearly chains over the azure deep;
Maybe, as even I, suffering banishment,[2]
Leaving your own dear North, southward perforce you sweep.
What is compelling you? Destiny’s ordinance?
Envy invisible? Open iniquity?
Maybe deeds criminal heavily press on you;