Читать книгу Yale Classics (Vol. 2) - Луций Анней Сенека - Страница 109

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Hadst thou a Libyan lioness on heights all stone,

A Scylla, barking wolvish at the loins' last verge,

To bear thee, O black-hearted, O to shame forsworn,

That unto supplication in my last sad need

Thou mightst not harken, deaf to ruth, a beast, no man?