Читать книгу Childe Harold's Pilgrimage (With Byron's Biography) - Lord Byron - Страница 172

The Moon is up; by Heaven, a lovely eve!

Long streams of light o'er dancing waves expand;

Now lads on shore may sigh, and maids believeeg: Such be our fate when we return to land! Meantime some rude Arion's restless handeh Wakes the brisk harmony that sailors love; A circle there of merry listeners stand Or to some well-known measure featly move, Thoughtless, as if on shore they still were free to rove.