Читать книгу A Selection from the Poems of William Morris - William Morris - Страница 27

A little more, a little more, O carriers of the Golden Fleece, A little labour with the oar, Before we reach the land of Greece. E'en now perchance faint rumours reach Men's ears of this our victory, And draw them down unto the beach To gaze across the empty sea. But since the longed-for day is nigh, And scarce a God could stay us now, Why do ye hang your heads and sigh, Hindering for nought our eager prow?