Analysis of The Duel
Alexander Sergeyevich Pushkin 1799 (Aleksandr Sergeyevich Pushkin Moscow) – 1837 (Saint Petersburg)
FROM 'EUGENE ONIEGIN '
28
Yes, foes!—How many days, bethink you,
Since hatred stepped the two between,
And since in hours of thought and leisure,
At work, at table, they have been
As comrades! Now, with purpose dread,
Like men in mutual loathing bred,
Each plans, as though in broadest day
A heavy nightmare on him lay,
The other's downfall in his heart.
Oh, could they smile but once, while still
Their hands are pure from deed of ill,
And then their sev'ral ways depart!
But worldly hate, like worldly fame,
Shrinks at the breath of worldly shame.
30
—Now, come together!
Calmly, coldly,
Not aiming yet, with haughty glance,
And tread assured and light, though measured,
The combatants four steps advance,
Four steps to death—whereon Eugene,
Still forward moving o'er the green,
(The other likewise) first began
To raise his weapon, fix his man. . . .
N ine steps now of the fateful quest
Were counted—Lensky, with a frown,
His left eye closed, took aim—when down
Oniegin's thumb the trigger prest. . . .
Reverse the sand-glass!—Lensky sighed—
No more!—and let his pistol glide.
31
He sought his breast with clutching fingers-
He fell, his glance grew dim, and still
It spoke of death alone, not torment,
As when upon some eastern hill
All sparkling in the morning light,
The snow-wreath vanishes from sight.
Oniegin, suddenly a-cold
With horror, saw his shot had told.
He hastened—o'er the poet's form
He stooped, he called his name—too late!
He was no more—untimely fate!
The flower had perished in the storm—
The music on the broken lyre,
And on the altar-stone, the fire!
32
And there he lay! How unfamiliar
Upon his brow the languid grace !
Beneath his breast the ball had pierced him,
The smoking blood ran down apace,
Thence, where, a few brief moments past,
The pulse of life was bounding fast,
Where hate and hope and love were strong,
And warm emotions wont to throng.
The heart is now a house bereft
Of former inmates—every floor
Is dark and still for evermore,
With dusty panes. The host has left;
And whither went he ? Who shall say ?
His very trace is swept away.
33
To write an epigram, a sharp one,
Your stupid foe to irritate,
Is very nice. To see him lower
His sullen horns, still obstinate,
And, nolens volens, in the glass
With shame behold himself and pass.
Twere nicer still (the fool!), should he
Stand there and gape—' 'Tis meant for me!'
And silently to dig your foe
An honoured grave, to aim with care—
Your mark, the pallid forehead there,
A generous distance off—we know,
Is nicest . But to see him fall
And lie, is scarcely nice at all!
34
We'll just suppose, my friend, your pistol Has stretched a young acquaintance dead—
Because of forward look or answer,
Because some idle thing he said
Had stung you o'er the wine last night,
Or even called you out to fight
Himself in boyish anger—well,
What kind of feeling, pray you, tell,
Came o'er you with a whelming rush,
When laid before you on the ground,
Without a motion or a sound,
He stiffens in the sudden hush ?
When dumb, with blinded stare, he lies,
Stone-deaf to your despairing cries ?
Scheme | A BXACADDEEFGGFHH BCIJXJAAAAKAAKLL BXGXGMMNNOPPOXC BCQXQRRSSTUUTEE BAPCXVVIIXWWAXX BDCDMMYYZ1 1 Z2 2 |
---|---|
Poetic Form | |
Metre | 1011 1 11110111 11010101 0101011010 11110111 1111101 110100101 11110101 0101111 0101011 11111111 11111111 0111101 11011101 11011101 1 11010 1010 11011101 010101110 00101101 1111101 110101001 0101101 11110111 111110101 0101101 11111111 110101 0101111 11011101 1 111111010 11111101 11110111 11011101 11000101 01110011 110001 11011111 110100101 11111111 11110101 010110001 01010101 010101010 1 01111010 01110101 011101111 01011101 11011101 01111101 11010101 01010111 01110101 11011001 1101110 11010111 01011111 11011101 1 11110011 1101110 110111110 11011100 011001 11010101 11010111 11011111 01001111 1111111 11010101 010010111 11011111 01110111 1 11011111011010101 011101110 01110111 111100111 11011111 01010101 11110111 11011011 11011101 01010101 11000101 11110111 11110101 |
Closest metre | Iambic tetrameter |
Characters | 3,085 |
Words | 545 |
Sentences | 38 |
Stanzas | 7 |
Stanza Lengths | 1, 15, 16, 15, 15, 15, 14 |
Lines Amount | 91 |
Letters per line (avg) | 26 |
Words per line (avg) | 6 |
Letters per stanza (avg) | 338 |
Words per stanza (avg) | 79 |
Font size:
Submitted on May 13, 2011
Modified on March 06, 2023
- 2:45 min read
- 121 Views
Citation
Use the citation below to add this poem analysis to your bibliography:
Style:MLAChicagoAPA
"The Duel" Poetry.com. STANDS4 LLC, 2024. Web. 26 Apr. 2024. <https://www.poetry.com/poem-analysis/574/the-duel>.
Discuss this Alexander Sergeyevich Pushkin poem analysis with the community:
Report Comment
We're doing our best to make sure our content is useful, accurate and safe.
If by any chance you spot an inappropriate comment while navigating through our website please use this form to let us know, and we'll take care of it shortly.
Attachment
You need to be logged in to favorite.
Log In