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. Salve Saturnia Tellus
2. Sonnet Written in Holy Week at Genoa
3. Desespoir
4. On the Massacre of the Christians in Bulgaria
5. Fabien Dei Franchi

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