Читать книгу Poems. Volume 2 - George Meredith - Страница 24

Avert, High Wisdom, never vainly wooed,

This threat of War, that shows a land brain-sick.

When nations gain the pitch where rhetoric

Seems reason they are ripe for cannon’s food.

Dark looms the issue though the cause be good,

But with the doubt ’tis our old devil’s trick.

O now the down-slope of the lunatic

Illumine lest we redden of that brood.

For not since man in his first view of thee

Ascended to the heavens giving sign

Within him of deep sky and sounded sea,

Did he unforfeiting thy laws transgress;

In peril of his blood his ears incline

To drums whose loudness is their emptiness.