form this stanza is engraved on the poet's monument in Moscow, unveiled in 1880.
MY MUSE. (Page 66.)
I originally passed over this poem as unworthy of translation, because I thought it not universal enough; because it seemed to me to express not the human heart, but the individual heart,—Pushkin's heart. But the great Byelinsky taught me better. He quotes these lines as a marvel of classic, of Greek art. "See," he exclaims, "the Hellenic, the artistic manner (and this is saying the same thing) in which Pushkin has told us of his call, heard by him even in the days of his youth. Yes, maugre the happy attempts of Batushkof in this direction before Pushkin's day, such verses had not been seen till Pushkin in the Russian land!" And Byelinsky is right. He saw. The great critic is thus an eye-opener, because he sees his author, and because seeing him he cannot help loving him. For if men truly knew one another (assuming them to be unselfish), they would love one another.… A hater is blind though he sees; a lover sees though he be blind. See, also, about this piece, Introduction, § 4.
MY DEMON. (Page 67.)
To this poem Pushkin added a note, which he intended to send to the periodical press, as if it were the comment of a third person. Referring to the report that the poet had a friend of his in mind when he wrote this poem, and used Rayefsky as a model, he says: "It seems to me those who believe this report are in error; at least, I see in 'The Demon' a higher aim, a moral aim. Perhaps the bard wished to typify Doubt. In life's best period, the heart, not as yet chilled by experience, is open to everything beautiful. It then is trustful and tender. But by-and-by
