The Bakchesarian Fountain and Other Poems

The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Bakchesarian Fountain and Other Poems by Alexander Pushkin and other authors
Copyright laws are changing all over the world. Be sure to check the copyright laws for your country before downloading or redistributing this or any other Project Gutenberg eBook.
This header should be the first thing seen when viewing this Project Gutenberg file. Please do not remove it. Do not change or edit the header without written permission.
Please read the "legal small print," and other information about the eBook and Project Gutenberg at the bottom of this file. Included is important information about your specific rights and restrictions in how the file may be used. You can also find out about how to make a donation to Project Gutenberg, and how to get involved.
**Welcome To The World of Free Plain Vanilla Electronic Texts**
**eBooks Readable By Both Humans and By Computers, Since 1971**
*****These eBooks Were Prepared By Thousands of Volunteers!*****
Title: The Bakchesarian Fountain and Other Poems
Author: Alexander Pushkin and other authors
Release Date: May, 2005 [EBook #8192]?[Yes, we are more than one year ahead of schedule]?[This file was first posted on June 30, 2003]
Edition: 10
Language: English
Character set encoding: ASCII
? START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE BAKCHESARIAN FOUNTAIN ***
Produced by David Starner, Robert Connal?and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team.
THE BAKCHESARIAN FOUNTAIN.
BY
ALEXANDER POOSHKEEN.
AND OTHER POEMS, BY VARIOUS AUTHORS,
TRANSLATED FROM THE ORIGINAL RUSSIAN,
BY
WILLIAM D. LEWIS.
TO
MY RUSSIAN FRIENDS,
THE FOLLOWING EFFORT TO RENDER INTO THE ENGLISH LANGUAGE A FAVOURITE POEM OF ONE OF THEIR MOST ADMIRED BARDS, AND SOME SHORTER PRODUCTIONS OF OTHER RUSSIAN POETS,
IS RESPECTFULLY DEDICATED,
AS A SMALL TESTIMONIAL OF GRATITUDE FOR THE MANY KINDNESSES OF WHICH I WAS THE OBJECT IN THEIR MOST HOSPITABLE COUNTRY, IN EARLY LIFE.
THE TRANSLATOR.
Philadelphia, July, 1849.
THE BAKCHESARIAN FOUNTAIN.
A TALE OF THE TAURIDE.
Mute sat Giray, with downcast eye,?As though some spell in sorrow bound him,?His slavish courtiers thronging nigh,?In sad expectance stood around him.?The lips of all had silence sealed,?Whilst, bent on him, each look observant,?Saw grief's deep trace and passion fervent?Upon his gloomy brow revealed.?But the proud Khan his dark eye raising,?And on the courtiers fiercely gazing,?Gave signal to them to begone!?The chief, unwitnessed and alone,?Now yields him to his bosom's smart,?Deeper upon his brow severe?Is traced the anguish of his heart;?As full fraught clouds on mirrors clear?Reflected terrible appear!
What fills that haughty soul with pain??What thoughts such madd'ning tumults cause??With Russia plots he war again??Would he to Poland dictate laws??Say, is the sword of vengeance glancing??Does bold revolt claim nature's right??Do realms oppressed alarm excite??Or sabres of fierce foes advancing??Ah no! no more his proud steed prancing?Beneath him guides the Khan to war,--?Such thoughts his mind has banished far.
Has treason scaled the harem's wall,?Whose height might treason's self appal,?And slavery's daughter fled his power,?To yield her to the daring Giaour?
No! pining in his harem sadly,?No wife of his would act so madly;?To wish or think they scarcely dare;?By wretches, cold and heartless, guarded,?Hope from each breast so long discarded;?Treason could never enter there.?Their beauties unto none revealed,?They bloom within the harem's towers,?As in a hot-house bloom the flowers?Which erst perfumed Arabia's field.?To them the days in sameness dreary,?And months and years pass slow away,?In solitude, of life grown weary,?Well pleased they see their charms decay.?Each day, alas! the past resembling,?Time loiters through their halls and bowers;?In idleness, and fear, and trembling,?The captives pass their joyless hours.?The youngest seek, indeed, reprieve?Their hearts in striving to deceive?Into oblivion of distress,?By vain amusements, gorgeous dress,?Or by the noise of living streams,?In soft translucency meand'ring,?To lose their thoughts in fancy's dreams,?Through shady groves together wand'ring.?But the vile eunuch too is there,?In his base duty ever zealous,?Escape is hopeless to the fair?From ear so keen and eye so jealous.?He ruled the harem, order reigned?Eternal there; the trusted treasure?He watched with loyalty unfeigned,?His only law his chieftain's pleasure,?Which as the Koran he maintained.?His soul love's gentle flame derides,?And like a statue he abides?Hatred, contempt, reproaches, jests,?Nor prayers relax his temper rigid,?Nor timid sighs from tender breasts,?To all alike the wretch is frigid.?He knows how woman's sighs can melt,?Freeman and bondman he had felt?Her art in days when he was younger;?Her silent tear, her suppliant look,?Which once his heart confiding shook,?Now move not,--he believes no longer!
When, to relieve the noontide heat,?The captives go their limbs to lave,?And in sequestered, cool retreat?Yield all their beauties to the wave,?No stranger eye their charms may greet,?But their strict guard is ever nigh,?Viewing with unimpassioned eye?These beauteous daughters of delight;?He constant, even in gloom of night,?Through the still harem cautious stealing,?Silent, o'er carpet-covered floors,?And gliding through half-opened doors,?From couch to couch his pathway feeling,?With envious and unwearied care?Watching the unsuspecting fair;?And whilst in sleep unguarded lying,?Their slightest movement, breathing, sighing,?He catches with devouring ear.?O! curst that moment inauspicious?Should some loved name in dreams be sighed,?Or youth her unpermitted wishes?To friendship venture to confide.

What pang is