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Mikhail Lermontov | Demon, 1829 | Chapter II

Demon / Демон is a poem by Mikhail Lermontov, written in several versions in the years 1829-1839.
It is considered a masterpiece of European Romantic poetry.
Lermontov began work on the poem when he was just 14 or 15, but completed it only during his Caucasus exile.
Lermontov wrote six major variations of the poem, and the final version was not published until 1842, after his death.

The poem is set in Lermontov's beloved Caucasus Mountains.
It opens with the eponymous protagonist wandering the earth, hopeless and troubled.
He dwells in infinite isolation, his immortality and unlimited power a worthless burden.
Then he spies the beautiful Georgian Princess Tamara, dancing for her wedding, and in the desert of his soul wells an indescribable emotion.
The Demon, acting as a brutal and powerful tyrant, destroys his rival: at his instigation, robbers come to despoil the wedding and kill Tamara's betrothed.
The Demon courts Tamara, and Tamara knows fear, yet in him she sees not a demon nor an angel but a tortured soul.
Eventually she yields to his embrace, but his kiss is fatal.
And though she is taken to Heaven, the Demon is left again "Alone in all the universe, Abandoned, without love or hope!..."

For Chapter I -in english and italian- see:

Part II

"Ah, father, father, leave your threats
Scold not your daughter yet again.
For see these tears! I'm weeping yet
You know full well since when
The suitors come to seek my hand
From all the corners of the land....
As though in Georgia only one
Young maid there were they'd have as bride....
But I - I can be wife to none!...
Oh, father, father, do not chide,
You see yourself - a poison slow
Envenoms all my waking thought
The evil one won't let me go
By overwhelming dreams distraught
I fade and perish utterly!
Have pity, let your foolish girl
Seek refuge In a monastery
There, if I can but take the veil
The saviour will take care of me
And I shall tell Him all my woe.
The world, I know it all too well,
Holds nothing for me: let a cell
In twilit shadow shelter me...
As in a grave - precociously..."


And so Tamara's family
To a far convent brought their child,
And there in all humility
In hair-shirt rough the maiden mild
Enrobed her youthful breast.
Yet in this harsh, monastic garb
Her troubled heart found no more rest
From dreams forbidden and debarred
Than clad in velvet or brocade.
Before the altar at the hour,
Of shining candles, solemn prayer,
Through the sweet chanting of the choir
Familiar speech would reach her ear
And there, beneath the cupola,
A well-known figure would appear
To glide by as the incense rose....
Soundless, he leaves no trace, but goes
Gleaming before her like a star
Calling and beckoning afar
But whither? Ah, that no one knows.


The holy convent was secluded
In a cool glen between two hills
By poplars and acacias ringed....
And, when the night sank weary-winged
To rest in the ravine, the grills
Of the young sister's cell would gleam
Out through their foliage fitfully.
Without, beneath the almond tree
In whose thin shade dark crosses brooded
Like silent watchers on the graves,
The merry birds made sweet conclaves
Of melody. The spring-cold streams
Leapt down from rock to rock, and sang,
Then merged beneath the overhang
To foam away in rapid rushes
Beneath the frosty-flowering bushes....


Way to the north there was a view,
A glimpse of mountains. At day's dawning,
When curling mists of smoky blue
Rose from the hollows of the hills,
And from his minaret the priest,
His face towards the brightening East,
Called all his flock to prayer at morning,
Then, too, the trembling resonance
Of chapel bells awoke the cloister;
The solemn hour did but enhance
The stillness of the place, the calm....
Tamara at this hour came forth
Bearing a pitcher on one arm
And, treading where the mists grew lighter
Down the steep hillside stepped for water.
The snowy summits to the North
Showed violet against the sky
And flung a cloak of rosier dye
About their shoulders in the evening;
And there between them, upheaving
His head between the clouds, their Tsar,
Kazbek, in robes of silver weaving,
Towered up towards the polar star.


Yet, full of tainted thoughts, her mind
Is shuttered to such pure delights,
And all her heart is filled with night
The whole world shadowed and unkind.
And morning ray and evening dark
Serve only to ignite the spark
Of further torment in her soul.
And, as the sweet, nocturnal cool
Over the thirsty earth came seeping,
Almost demented, she would fall
Before the sacred icon weeping;
And in the silence of the night
Her heavy sobbing would affright
The traveller upon his course;
"A mountain spirit", he'd surmise
"Bound in some cavern moaning lies!"
And hustle on his weary horse...


So, filled with longing and unease,
Tamara would sit long and gaze
Engrossed in lonely meditation
All day, and sigh with expectation
Beside her window, staring out....
That he would come she had no doubt,
Why else then were her dreams so clear?
Why else then used he to appear
With eyes so infinitely sad
And speech so marvellously tender?
For many days on end she had
Been strangely moved - she knew not why....
She called the good saints to defend her
But in her heart she called on him;
And always, when the day grew dim,
Weary with staring she would lie
Down on her bed and try to sleep:
The pillow burnt her flaming cheek
Fear stifled her, she gasped for breath,
Then, from her pallet she would leap
With heaving shoulders, fevered breast
Trembling, a mist before her sight,
Her arms outstretched to clasp the night,
The kisses melting on her lips...


The Georgian hills were scarcely veiled
In the transparent dusk of evening
Before the Demon downward sailed
Through the grey twilight wreathing
For long and long, though powerfully
The convent seemed to draw him, he
Could not make up his mind to break
That hallowed peace.... One moment more
And he was ready to forsake
His cruel intent. Beyond the door
He paced beneath the circling wall
Absorbed in thought. The shadowy leaves
Shook at his steps without a breeze
He raised his eyes: a quivering light
Throbbed from her window through the night.
So, she was waiting - and awake!
Through the soft silence all about
The chingar thrummed harmoniously
And over them a song rang out
A song that poured mellifluousty
Like tears that fall in measure slow,
A song so tender that at times
It seemed as though in loftier climbes
It had been made for earth below.
Some angel, maybe, had descended
To seek a being he'd once befriended
To bring him secret consolation,
To ease his pain, past bliss recall.
Love's anguish and love's exaltation
Now held the Demon fast in thrall
For the first time; he would have flown
But his great wings were turned to stone!
A miracle! His eyes are dim
And down his cheek there rolls one tear....
Now, to this day, the stones still bear
The fiery traces of its falling...
A tear of flame, a trace appalling,
But not a human tear!


And so he came, prepared to give
His heart in love, his soul to light.
He thought the time had come to live
A new life on this longed-for night.
As though at a first assignation
The proud soul felt a strange, shy thrill,
A shuddering, timid expectation:
It was a sign that boded ill!
He entered, looked around. Before him
The lovely sinner's Guardian stood,
Heaven's messenger, bright cherubim,
With smiling lips and brow of flame.
So. the fell enemy forestalling,
The brilliant spirit of the Good
Had gathered her beneath his wing.
The Demon looked for tender greeting -
But light divine upon him beating
And stern rebuke upon him came:


"Spirit of idleness and sin,
At this dark hour who called you? say!
You have no servants here within
These sacred walls, nor to this day
Has breath of evil visited
This charge of mine, to you forbid....
Who called you?" - Subtly in reply
The Demon smiled but in him woke
The ancient hate of hell. His eye
Flashed fiery-jealous as he spoke
Upon the messenger divine:
"Leave her!" he said. "For she is mine!
Too late you came, good guardian - see
You are no judge of such as we
For her proud heart belongs to me.
No charge is she of powers above
Here I am lord, and here I love!-"
Sad-eyed, the angel bent his glance
Upon the evil spirit's prey
Then slowly flapped his great wings once
And through the ether soared away.


Mikhail Vrubel - Tamara and Demon

Who are you? You are perilous
Say - are you come from heaven or hell?
What do you want?

The Demon:
What loveliness!

But speak, who are you? You must tell.

The Demon:
I am he to whom you barkened
In the stillness of the night,
He whose thought your mind has darkened,
He whose sadness you have felt,
Whose image haunts your waking sight,
Whose name the end of hope has spelt
To every soul with whom I treat.
I am he no man may love,
A scourge to all my mortal slaves,
The ill in nature. Enemy
To Heaven and all the powers above.
Lord of knowledge, liberty.
And, as you see, I'm at your feet.
Moved beyond all that I have known
I would speak softly in your ears
Quiet prayers of love. Tell of my pain,
My first on earth, and my first tears.
Ah hear me out, for pity's sake!
One word from you would quite restore me.
Robed in the love of your pure heart
I might again resume my part
In the angelic ranks and take
An aspect new and a new glory.
Ah, hear me, hear me I implore you,
I am your slave and I adore you!
No sooner did I see you than
I felt a sudden, veiled revulsion
For immortality and power;
And I was drawn by strange compulsion
To envy the frail joys of man;
Life without you became a torment
To be apart from you - a horror.
A living ray of warmth, a portent
Of fair renewal touched my heart
And set the cold blood coursing. Sorrow
Beneath the scar stirred like a serpent
Awakening an ancient pain.
For, tell me, without you what gain
Is there in my infinity?
Endless dominion, majesty?
Loud, empty words - a spacious fane
Devoid of all divinity!

Leave me, false spirit of deceit
Be silent, for I will not trust
The Enemy. Ah God... some sweet
Insistent poison saps resolve -
I cannot say the prayer I must -
Your words are fire and I dissolve
And melt in them. I cannot see....
But say: how came you to love me?

The Demon:
How, lovely one? - I do not know,
My life is wondrous full and new,
The crown of thorns I proudly cast
With my own hands from off my brow.
All that I have been shattered lies:
My heaven and hell are in your eyes.
I love you with a passion vast.
You cannot love as I love you,
With all the ecstasy and power
Of deathless thought and dreams sublime.
Since the beginning of all time
Your image on the eternal air
Has gone before me - till this hour.
My soul has long been troubled by
The sweet sounds of the name you bear;
And in my days of blessedness
You were my only lack. If only
You could but understand the lonely
Embittered boredom of existence
When, century on century,
Alone in suffering and Joy
In evil meeting no resistance,
For good receiving no reward,
Enclosed in self, by self most bored,
A never-ending war to wage
Past hope to triumph or destroy
Past hope of making peace again!
To pity where I would desire.
To know all things from age to age,
Seek hatred's all-consuming fire
And nought to find but cool disdain!
For since God's curse upon me came
All natural ardours have grown cold.
I saw my fellow-stars arrayed
In wedding garments as of old;
Through azure space before me flowing
They passed me by in crowns of flame;
And yet... of these, my one-time brothers,
Not one would recognise me now.
So, in despair, I called on others,
Outcasts like me, to join my growing
Battalions, but - I know not how -
In their embittered words and faces,
In their dark looks I in my turn
Knew no one. Then in terror I
Beat with my wings the earth to spurn
And launched myself into the sky,
And flew, and flew.... Whither? For why?
I do not know... By friends rejected,
Like those from Eden's gates ejected,
I saw the whole world pale and dim.
Abandoned to the current's whim,
Even so without a sail, may float
A rudderless and broken boat
Upon the surface of the sea
Knowing nor course nor destiny;
So, in the early morning hour,
Abandoned by some passing shower
Of thunderous rain, a lonely cloud
Black through the azure heights of heaven
May wander lost without a haven
Leaving no trace upon the ether
God only knows from whence - or whither!
For a short while myself I vowed
To teaching sin and spreading doubt
Of all things noble, all things fair.
But not for long ... mankind I wrenched
Too easily to my fell will.
The flame of faith, too easy quenched,
Left me triumphant, but without
An object worthy of my skill.
To mislead hypocrites and fools...
What profit was there for me there?
I hid away in mountains far
And wandered like a displaced star
In lonely, never ending flight:
And when some traveller belated
Would follow, deeming me a light
In some near dwelling; I would lead
Him to the cliff-edge ... hear the hated
Voice call up from the abyss...
And leave him - and his horse - to bleed....
Yet all too soon I tired of this
And other spiteful, sombre sports!
How often, raising storms of stones,
And, clad in mists and lightening,
I would go hurtling through the cloud
To cow the spirit of the crowd,
Rebellious upshoots frightening,
Drowning their murmuring in my groans,
Seeking escape from pursuant thoughts.
Seeking to expunge from memory
Things that may not forgotten be!
What is the tale of miseries,
The labours and the pains of man
Throughout the passing centuries,
Compared to but one minute's span
Of my great, unacknowledged anguish?
What of mankind? - their works and sorrow?
Here today - and gone tomorrow....
Then - they have hope in judgement just;
He may forgive, although He must
At first condemn them. I shall languish
Unshriven throughout eternity....
My torment has no end, like me,
And, deathless, it must ever wake,
Now creeping closer like a snake,
Now caustic, burning to the bone,
Now dull and heavy like a stone -
To live - the everlasting tomb
Of hope and passion is my doom!...

What part have I in all this wild
And sorry tale? Why should I own
To pity? You have sinned....

My child, against you?


We are alone.

And God!

Will not spare us a thought
Heaven, not earth, is his first care.

The pains of hell, as we are taught?

What of them? I'll be with you there!

Who e'er you are, my chance-met friend,
You, who have stolen my peace of mind,
Reluctantly, yet deeply moved,
I hear how you have suffered, loved...
Yet if you speak but to mislead
Yet if you lie - in part or whole -
Have mercy on me - For what need
Can you have of my maiden soul?
Surely 'tis not to heaven more dear
Than all those you have overlooked.
They too are beautiful and pure...
As here, no mortal hand was brooked
Their chaste couch to contaminate....
No! Swear to me a binding oath...
But say,- you see it all; how, loth
To cleanse the sweet fear from my heart,
I dream as women will; and start
Again in fear that you know all....
You have seen all and understood
And surely must be merciful!
Come, swear to me to leave behind
All evil wishes from this hour
Are there no oaths of lasting power,
No sacred promises you could
Swear to me now that should you bind?

By the first day of the creation
And by its latest day I swear,
By God's law and its violation
The triumph of eternal truth,
The bitter shame of sin I bear;
By the brief glory of this dream
I swear, and by our meeting here
And by the threat of separation;
I swear by all the spirit hosts
Whom Fate has set at my command,
On swords divine I take my oath
As wielded by my enemies
The impassive, sleepless angel band;
I swear by you, your life, your death,
Your last, long look and your first tear,
The gentle drawing of your breath,
The silken torrents of your hair;
I swear by suffering and bliss,
I swear even by this love of ours,-
I have renounced all vengefulness
I have renounced the pride of years;
From this day forth no false temptation
Will rise to trouble any soul;
I look for reconciliation,
I look for love, for adoration,
I look for faith in Higher Good.
And by a tear of true contrition
I'll wipe away the fiery trace
Of wroth divine from off a face
More worthy of you. May the whole
Wide world in calm rusticity
Bloom on, all unaware of me!
Believe me, I alone have vision
To love you: I have understood
Your greatness as no other could:
You are my holy one. This day
My power at your feet I lay.
And for your love one moment long
I'll give you all eternity.
For I am changeless, true and strong
In love as in malignity
Free spirit of the air, I'll bear you
High up above the stars to where you
Will reign in splendour as my queen,
Tamara, first love of my dream,
And you will come to look on earth
Without regret, without compassion
Unhappy planet, with its dearth
Of lasting beauty, with its fashion
For petty sentiments, small minds,
Where crime and executions grind
Their everlasting wheel of fear:
Men fear to love and fear to hate.
Or know you not what love is here?
The seething of young blood in spate -
But days go by and blood grows cold!
Who can resist the long temptation
Of boredom, change and novelty?
What love can outlive separation
Or rival dream's variety?
No! Not for my love to grow old
And fade in silence in the crude
Society of jealous slaves
Amidst ungenerous and cold
Pretended friends and real foes,
Burdened by useless works and rude
Endeavours, empty hopes and fears!
Your fate is not to wither here,
And, passionless, your soul to save
Behind these walls, a scentless rose
Unopened by the honey bee
And dull to the Divinity.
Ah no! My lovely one, your morrow
Is marked by different destiny,
A different depth of ecstasy,
A different scale of sorrow;
Leave then your former thoughts, desires
And leave the poor world to its fate.
Then, in return, you may aspire
To enter realms of knowledge true,
And there I shall present to you
The hosts of beings subordinate
Unto my will to serve your needs.
Light-handed, magical attendants
And from the morning star for you
I'll tear the crown of gold one night,
Take from the flowers the midnight dew
And shake the drops in showers bright
To make the crown resplendent.
The sunset's glowing ray I'll weave
To wind about you like a sheath;
I'll fill the air about us two
With freshness and delicious scent;
And constantly your ear I'll woo
With sweet sounds from soft instruments;
Of turquoise and of amber I
Shall build delightful halls for you,
I shall go soaring to the sky
Sink to the bottom of the sea -
All you could wish for I shall give
But love me...."


And most gently he
Did touch his burning lips to hers;
Full of seduction were the words
In which he soothed her soft repining;
His mighty gaze held fast her eyes
And burnt her.- In the cloistered shade
He glinted poised above her, shining.
Inevitable as a blade.
The evil spirit overcomes her.
His kiss, like deadly poison, numbs her
And stills the heart within her breast.
One terrified and anguished cry
Aroused the silent night from rest.
It was a last, a desperate plea
Yet full of love, live agony,
Hopeless farewell, finality...
To her young life a last good-bye.


The midnight watchman on his rounds
His hand upon his iron gong
Beneath the high wall passed along
His path appointed, paused and found
His mind in turmoil. What was this?
From the high windows of her cell
It seemed he heard a willing kiss,
A sudden cry, a groan suppressed....
Impious doubts rose in his breast
And the old man stood listening, ready
To sound the alarm. But silence fell
All round him. He could hear the steady
Rustling of leaves borne by the wind
And, from the shingle, clear but faint,
The mountain rivers' soft complaint.
He hastened to recall to mind
The prayers prescribed against illusions
And diabolical delusions;
Then crossed himself with trembling fingers
The last, luxurious dreams to lay
And, fearing longer there to linger,
With quickened pace strode on his way.


As lovely as a Peri-sprite,
Tamara on her death bed rested.
Her brow was purer and more white
Than the chaste veil in which they vested
Their novice, so untimely dead.
The lashes were forever lowered
Yet who, oh God, would not have said
The eyes beneath them did but sleep,
Awaiting but the kiss empowered
To wake them from enchanted rest
Or but to feel the day-star peep?
Yet all in vain the sun caressed
Them with its golden, glowing beams;
Her fathers' kiss, his silent sorrow,
Could not awake her from her dreams....
No. none can break the seal of death
Nor give eternal night a morrow!


Never, in days of happiness
Was the poor maid so richly clad,
So festive and so bright her dress....
Such was the custom of her land.
Flowers from her native vallev breathed
Their scent around her and she had
Clasped them so tight in her dead hand
As though yet to this earth she cleaved!..
No hint was there in her still face
Of how she met her end - in ardent
Intoxication, fatal passion,
But rather seemed she of a race
Apart, the lovely features carven
Of marble, void of mind or feeling,
Expressionless, all fire concealing,
Mysterious as death itself.
About her lips there frozen dwelt
A strange smile, fixed even as it passed.
To those who looked in careful fashion
Unhappy was the tale it told:
A smile contemptuous and cold
As of a soul prepared to wither
And silentiv to bid a last
Farewell to all things of this hither
World, the last reflection
Of her last thought, vain recollection
Of all her life before, more dead
Than those eternally closed eyes;
To those who stood about her bed
Still more conducive to despair.
So, at the solemn sunset hour
When, melting in the golden air,
Day's chariot already flies
Into the Western seas to plummet,
For a brief instant yet his power
Dwells on the mountain tops, whose snow
Reflects a rosy, living glow
That gleams on through the distant dark.
Yet weak and fading is that ray,
And from its distant, ice-bound summit
To guide the traveller on his way
It can awake no answering spark!...


Mikhail Vrubel - Death Tamara

The mourning kinsfolk and the crowd
Of neighbours are foregathered now.
Tearing the gray locks on his brow
Old Gudaal scorns to weep aloud
But silently mounts his great horse
And the procession takes the road.
Three days, three nights they hold their course
And then at last set down their load
Amidst her ancestors' remains.
Old GudaaFs forefather, they say,
A brigand whose ill-gotten gains
Disturbed his conscience, when one day
He was struck down by dread disease,
Had thought the memory to ease
Of his past sins by doing penance;
So he had promised in the presence
Of witnesses to build a church
Upon a lofty, granite perch
High in the hills where no sound came
Except the singing of the storm,
A fitting nest for kites and crows.
And soon amidst the Kazbek snows
A solitary temple rose,
And there the villain with his bones
Did finally inter his shame.
So was this cloud-capped rock transformed
Into a graveyard for his kin.
As though the nearer to the sky.
The warmer after death we lie?
As though the further from the din
Of life the sounder we should sleep...?
Vain hope! For dead men may not keep,
Even in dreams, the memory
Of joy or tears in days gone by....


Winging through heaven's spaces blue,
A holy angel golden-pinioned
Bearing her sinful spirit flew
Towards the Father's high dominions.
And, cradling her in mighty arms,
With words of hope dispelled her doubt
And washed the traces of alarm
And all transgression with his weeping.
The music of the spheres rang out
From Heaven to meet them as they rose
When, from the nether regions sweeping,
Came the infernal spirit hurtling
Between them and their goal divine....
And mighty was he as the whirlwind
Shot through with lightnings. Insolence
Consumed him and mad arrogance
With certainty he claimed her. "Mine!"

Circled by the strong arms which bore her,
Tamara's sinful soul shrank close
To the protecting angel's side
Seeking in prayer her fear to hide.
Now, once again, he stood before her
But - Heavens! Who would know him now?
His gaze so brooding and morose
So venomous with hate eternal...
It seemed a death-like cold infernal
Lay on that frozen face and brow.
"Spirit of darkness, get thee gone!"
Heaven's messenger then made reply:

Mikhail Vrubel - Angel and Demon

"The victory has been yours for long
Enough, and now the end is nigh.
Just is the judgement of the Lord!
The days of trial are over, past:
With the frail flesh, know. she has cast
Off all the claims of evil too!
For long now we have waited for her:
Her soul was of those very few
Who at the price of martyr's pain
Endured one moment long attain
To tasting joy beyond compare.
The Maker span its living thread
Out of the finest, purest air
Not for the dull world was she made
No more that it was made for her.
She has redeemed at cruel price
Her wavering faith in powers above.
She suffered, loved, laid down her life -
And Heaven opened to her love!"

The angel bent his gaze severe
Upon the Tempter, eye to eye,
Then joyful soared ... to disappear
Into the boundless, shining sky.
The Demon watched the heating wings
Fading triumphantly from sight
And cursed his dreams of better things,
Doomed to defeat, venting his spite
And arrogance in that great curse....
Alone in all the universe,
Abandoned, without love or hope!...

* * *

Now, on the rocky mountain slope
Above the valley of Koyshaur
An ancient ruin's standing still
A broken-fanged, stony tower.
Tales hang thereby to send a chill
Down childish spines. A glimpse half-seen
Of bygone, legendary times,
Amongst the trees the silent pile
Shows black and menacing. Meanwhile
The aul, the mountain village, straggles
Beneath it and the earth is green,
The passing merchant loudly haggles,
The voices mingle with the chimes
Of camel-bells from caravans
That journey on from distant lands;
And through the mists the waterfall
Foams glittering down the rocky wall,
And nature glories laughingly,
As sportive as a carefree child,
In life renewed eternally,
In sun and shade and springtime wild.

Only the castle has outlasted
Its count of years and sadly ends
Its lonely days - a patriarchal
Old man who has outlived his friends
And family. Its inmates wait
In hiding for the moon to rise:
Then they hold feast, do as they will:
They run and buzz from gate to gate....
Then the grey spider, with slow skill,
Spins out her silken hermitage.
The lizards green beneath the skies
Play on the slates right merrily
And, cautiously, the serpent sage
Creeps from his cranny dark to crawl
Along the ancient porch's wall.
Now suddenly he twirls and twists
His body into three bright rings,
And now his supple brilliance slings
Into a straight, a steely rod
A lance left lying by the lists,
A dead man's sword - unmarked, unmissed
Unwanted now and quite forgot.
All has run wild, no trace is left
Of bygone years; the hand of time
Cautiously, carefully has swept
Them all away: The glorious prime
Of Gudaal - vanished without token.
His daughter's name no longer spoken!

Only the Church on its sheer height
Where the scant earth once took their bones
Preserved by some sacred might
Is guarded by black standing stones
Of granite, sentinels unarmoured
Save for th'eternal ice which glows
Like mail upon their fronts, their shoulders
Draped in heavy cloaks of snows.
And frowning avalanches brood
On the steep slopes, each frozen flood
Like some vast, frosted waterfall.
The howling wind keeps sentry-go
Blowing the snow-dust from the wall,
Now checks the watch, calling the roll,
Now singing songs sad, long and low;
And far and wide the church is known
In all the lands - a holy wonder:
And yet the orient clouds alone
Flock round to worship at the shrine
And yet upon the stones, whereunder
Tamara and her kin still sleep,
No weeping pilgrims sit and pine
Only the sullen mountain bent
Above them vigilance does keep:
That man's eternal discontent
Might not break in upon their slumber.

Mikhail Vrubel - Fallen Demon