All passions are raging at once in my blood,
Know my frenzy! Love's madness is mine.
You seem for my suffering only to wish--
I am drunk of my love!
Don't give me the wine!
_From the Georgian of Prince Tschawtschawadze_.
THE DELIBASH
With the hostile camp in skirmish
Our men once were changing shot,
Pranced the Delibash his charger
'Fore our ranks of Cossacks hot.
Trifle not with free-born Cossacks!
Nor too o'er foolhardy be!
Thy mad mood thou wilt atone for--
On his pike he'll skewer thee!
'Ware friend Cossack! Or at full bound,
Off thy head, at lightning speed
With his scimitar he'll sever
From thy trunk! He will indeed!
What confusion! What a roaring!
Halt! thou devil's pack, have care!
On the pike is lanced the horseman--
Headless stands the Cossack there!
PUSHKIN.
_Delibash is the Turkish synonym for Hotspur_.
TO THE DON
Through the Steppes, see there he glances!
Silent flood glad hailed by me,--
Thy far distant sons do proffer
Through me, greeting fond to thee!
Every stream knows thee as brother,
Don, thou river boasted wide!
The Araxes and Euphrates
Send thee greeting as they glide.
Fresh and strengthened for pursuing,
Scenting home within thy gleam--
Drink again the Don'ish horses,
Flowing boundary, of thy stream!
Faithful Don! There also greet thee
Thy true warriors bold and free--
Let thy vineyard's foaming bubbles
In the glass be spilled to thee!
PUSHKIN.
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