Читать книгу Childe Harold's Pilgrimage (With Byron's Biography) - Lord Byron - Страница 27

The sails were filled, and fair the light winds blew,ai As glad to waft him from his native home; And fast the white rocks faded from his view, And soon were lost in circumambient foam: And then, it may be, of his wish to roam Repented he, but in his bosom slept34 The silent thought, nor from his lips did come One word of wail, whilst others sate and wept, And to the reckless gales unmanly moaning kept.