XXXVII

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XXXVII

To his Penates now returned,

Vladimir Lenski visited

His neighbour’s lowly tomb and mourned

Above the ashes of the dead.

There long time sad at heart he stayed:

“Poor Yorick,” mournfully he said,

“How often in thine arms I lay;

How with thy medal I would play,

The Medal Otchakoff conferred!

To me he would his Olga give,

Would whisper: shall I so long live?”⁠—

And by a genuine sorrow stirred,

Lenski his pencil-case took out

And an elegiac poem wrote.