Читать книгу Childe Harold's Pilgrimage (With Byron's Biography) - Lord Byron - Страница 177

But midst the crowd, the hum, the shock of men,

To hear, to see, to feel, and to possess,

And roam along, the World's tired denizen,

With none who bless us, none whom we can bless;

Minions of Splendour shrinking from distress!130 None that, with kindred consciousness endued, If we were not, would seem to smile the less, Of all that flattered—followed—sought, and sued: This is to be alone—This, This is Solitude!eq