Читать книгу Childe Harold's Pilgrimage (With Byron's Biography) - Lord Byron - Страница 19

Childe Harold basked him in the Noontide sun,r Disporting there like any other fly; Nor deemed before his little day was done One blast might chill him into misery. But long ere scarce a third of his passed by, Worse than Adversity the Childe befell; He felt the fulness of Satiety: Then loathed he in his native land to dwell, Which seemed to him more lone than Eremite's sad cell.