Читать книгу Childe Harold's Pilgrimage (With Byron's Biography) - Lord Byron - Страница 28

But when the Sun was sinking in the sea

He seized his harp, which he at times could string,

And strike, albeit with untaught melody,

When deemed he no strange ear was listening:

And now his fingers o'er it he did fling,

And tuned his farewell in the dim twilight;

While flew the vessel on her snowy wing,

And fleeting shores receded from his sight,

Thus to the elements he poured his last "Good Night."35