Category: Poetry
The following pieces, selections from a huge and undigested mass of translation, accumulated during several years devoted to philological pursuits, are with much diffidence offered to the public, the writer being fully aware that not unfrequently he has failed in giving his ve...
The following pieces, selections from a huge and undigested mass of translation, accumulated during several years devoted to philological pursuits, are with much diffidence offe...
2. Chapter 2O'er the field the snow is flying, There a wounded Cossack's lying; On a bush his head he's leaning, And his eyes with grass is screening, Meadow-grass so greenly shiny, And wit...
3. Chapter 3My sole joy and my comfort wast thou 'neath the sun, Dark gloom, now I'm reft of thee, filleth my mind; I shall know no more happiness now thou art gone, O my Mary, of wit and o...
4. Chapter 4Sweet death of sense, oblivion of ill, Sleep! who from war, from time to time, dost bear Poor, wretched mortals, and in peace dost still-- Compose the discords, which my bosom t...