Текст оригинала на английском языке Sonnet 100. Lyre of the Sonnet, that full many a time WRITTEN DECEMBER 1790. Lyre of the Sonnet, that full many a time Amus'd my lassitude, and sooth'd my pains, When graver cares forbade the lengthen'd strains, To thy brief bound, and oft-returning chime A long farewell!—the splendid forms of Rhyme When Grief in lonely orphanism reigns, Oppress the drooping Soul.—Death's dark domains Throw mournful shadows o'er the Aonian clime; For in their silent bourne my filial bands Lie all dissolv'd;—and swiftly-wasting pour From my frail glass of life, health's sparkling sands. Sleep then, my Lyre, thy tuneful tasks are o'er, Sleep! for my heart bereav'd, and listless hands Wake with rapt touch thy glowing strings no more! |
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