Читать книгу Adventure Tales #1 - Hugh B. Cave - Страница 10

THE SINGER IN THE MIST, by Robert E. Howard

At birth a witch laid on me monstrous spells,

And I have trod strange highroads all my days,

Turning my feet to gray, unholy ways.

I grope for stems of broken asphodels;

High on the rims of bare, fiend-haunted fells,

I follow cloven tracks that lie ablaze;

And ghosts have led me through the moonlight’s haze

To talk with demons in the granite hells.

Seas crash upon dragon-guarded shores,

Bursting in crimson moons of burning spray,

And iron castles open to me their doors,

And serpent-women lure with harp and lay.

The misty waves shake now to phantom oars—

Seek not for me; I sail to meet the day.