VI
Let us proceed unto a rill,
Which in a hilly neighbourhood
Seeks, winding amid meadows still,
The river through the linden wood.
The nightingale there all night long,
Spring’s paramour, pours forth her song
The fountain brawls, sweetbriers bloom,
And lo! where lies a marble tomb
And two old pines their branches spread—
“Vladimir Lenski lies beneath,
Who early died a gallant death,”
Thereon the passing traveller read:
“The date, his fleeting years how long—
Repose in peace, thou child of song.”