XXXIV

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XXXIV

A true Childe Harold my Eugene

To idle musing was a prey;

At morn an icy bath within

He sat, and then the livelong day,

Alone within his habitation

And buried deep in meditation,

He round the billiard-table stalked,

The balls impelled, the blunt cue chalked;

When evening o’er the landscape looms,

Billiards abandoned, cue forgot,

A table to the fire is brought,

And he waits dinner. Lenski comes,

Driving abreast three horses gray.

“Bring dinner now without delay!”