Читать книгу Childe Harold's Pilgrimage (With Byron's Biography) - Lord Byron - Страница 91

When Paphos fell by Time—accurséd Time!

The Queen who conquers all must yield to thee—

The Pleasures fled, but sought as warm a clime;

And Venus, constant to her native Sea,

To nought else constant, hither deigned to flee,

And fixed her shrine within these walls of white:

Though not to one dome circumscribeth She

Her worship, but, devoted to her rite,

A thousand Altars rise, for ever blazing bright.83