Читать книгу Childe Harold's Pilgrimage (With Byron's Biography) - Lord Byron - Страница 108

Yet to the beauteous form he was not blind,

Though now it moved him as it moves the wise;

Not that Philosophy on such a mind

E'er deigned to bend her chastely-awful eyes:

But Passion raves herself97 to rest, or flies; And Vice, that digs her own voluptuous tomb, Had buried long his hopes, no more to rise:dh Pleasure's palled Victim! life-abhorring Gloom Wrote on his faded brow curst Cain's unresting doom.98