Oscar Wilde (Оскар Уайльд)

Portia

I MARVEL not Bassanio was so bold
To peril all he had upon the lead,
Or that proud Aragon bent low his head,
Or that Morocco's fiery heart grew cold:
For in that gorgeous dress of beaten gold
Which is more golden than the golden sun,
No woman Veronesé looked upon
Was half so fair as thou whom I behold.
Yet fairer when with wisdom as your shield
The sober-suited lawyer's gown you donned
And would not let the laws of Venice yield
Antonio's heart to that accursèd Jew--
O Portia! take my heart: it is thy due:
I think I will not quarrel with the Bond. 

1. The Garden of Eros
2. Hélas!
3. Fabien Dei Franchi
4. Impression Du Matin
5. Desespoir

Распечатать (Print)

Количество обращений к стихотворению: 2005

Последние стихотворения

To English version