Читать книгу Childe Harold's Pilgrimage (With Byron's Biography) - Lord Byron - Страница 122

Flows there a tear of Pity for the dead?

Look o'er the ravage of the reeking plain;

Look on the hands with female slaughter red;

Then to the dogs resign the unburied slain,

Then to the vulture let each corse remain,

Albeit unworthy of the prey-bird's maw;

Let their bleached bones, and blood's unbleaching stain,

Long mark the battle-field with hideous awe:

Thus only may our sons conceive the scenes we saw!