Стихотворение From “Childe Harold’s Pilgrimage” by G. G. Byron
“Adieu! Adieu! My native shore
Fades o’er the waters blue;
The night-winds sigh, the breakers roar,
And shrieks the wild sea-mew.
Yon son that sets upon the sea
We follow in it’s flight;
Farewell awhile to him and thee,
My Native Land- Good night!
A few short hours, and he will rise
To give the morrow birth;
And I shall hail the main and skies,
But not my mother earth.
Deserted is my own good hall,
It’s hearth is desolate;
Wild weeds are gathering on the wall;
My dog howls at the gate.
With thee, my bark, I’ll swiftly go
Athwart the foaming brine;
Nor care what land thou bear’st me to,
So not again to mine.
Welcome, welcome, ye dark blue waves!
And when you fail my sight,
Welcome, ye deserts, and ye caves!
My native Land – Good Night!”