Читать книгу Don Juan (With Byron's Biography) - Lord Byron - Страница 284

There's nought, no doubt, so much the spirit calms

As rum and true religion: thus it was,

Some plundered, some drank spirits, some sung psalms,

The high wind made the treble, and as bass

The hoarse harsh waves kept time; fright cured the qualms

Of all the luckless landsmen's sea-sick maws:

Strange sounds of wailing, blasphemy, devotion,

Clamoured in chorus to the roaring Ocean.