The highest hope of pride, and power,
I feel hath flown.
Of power! said I? Yes! such I ween
But they have vanish’d long alas!
The visions of my youth have been —
But let them pass.
And, pride, what have I now with thee?
Another brow may ev’n inherit
The venom thou hast pour’d on me —
Be still my spirit.
The happiest day – the happiest hour
Mine eyes shall see – have ever seen
The brightest glance of pride and power
I feel – have been:
But were that hope of pride and power
Now offer’d, with the pain
Ev’n then I felt – that brightest hour
I would not live again:
For on its wing was dark alloy
And as it flutter’d – fell
An essence – powerful to destroy
A soul that knew it well.
«Счастливый день! Счастливый час!..»
Счастливый день! Счастливый час!
И я был горд и ослеплен!
Но дух мой сир и слаб мой глас —
Растаял сон!
Познал я сил своих расцвет,
Свой молодой и смелый пыл,
Но юных лет давно уж нет —
Я их забыл.
И гордость я вотще познал —
Пускай другим венки дарит, —
Еще жестокий яд похвал
В душе горит.
Счастливый день! Счастливый час!
Ты не обман мечты пустой —
Ты мне сиял, но ты погас,
Мираж златой.
Когда бы гордость, блеск и власть
Я мог бы снова обрести,
Не стало б силы боль и страсть
Опять снести.
Я помню – в мощи этих крыл
Слились огонь и мрак —
В самом уж взлете этом был
Паденья вещий знак.
The Lake: To…[31]
In spring of youth it was my lot
To haunt of the wide world a spot
The which I could not love the less —
So lovely was the loneliness
Of a wild lake, with black rock bound,
And the tall pines that towered around.
But when the Night had thrown her pall
Upon that spot, as upon all,
And the mystic wind went by
Murmuring in melody —
Then – ah, then, I would awake
To the terror of the lone lake.
Yet that terror was not fright,
But a tremulous delight —
A feeling not the jewelled mine
Could teach or bribe me to define
Nor Love – although the Love were thine. 
