Читать книгу Childe Harold's Pilgrimage (With Byron's Biography) - Lord Byron - Страница 125

And thou, my friend!—since unavailing woedk107 19.B. Bursts from my heart, and mingles with the strain— Had the sword laid thee with the mighty low, Pride might forbid e'en Friendship to complain: But thus unlaurelled to descend in vain, By all forgotten, save the lonely breast, And mix unbleeding with the boasted slain, While Glory crowns so many a meaner crest! What hadst thou done to sink so peacefully to rest?