Jonathan Swift (Джонатан Свифт)

At Holyhead

O NEPTUNE! Neptune! must I still
Be here detained against my will?
Is this your justice when I ’m come
Above two hundred miles from home,
O’er mountains steep, o’er dusty plains,
Half choked with dust, half drowned with rains,
Only your godship to implore
To let me kiss your other shore?
A boon so small! but I may weep
While you ’re, like Baal, fast asleep.

1. Dean Swift at Sir Arthur Acheson’s, in the North of Ireland
2. Drapier’s Hill
3. Verses on Blenheim
4. On Stella's Birth-day 1719
5. Advice to the Grub Street Verse-writers

Распечатать (Print)

Количество обращений к стихотворению: 1322

Последние стихотворения

To English version