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Уильям Каллен Брайант/ William Cullen Bryant
| A Northern Legend There sits a lovely maiden, The ocean murmuring nigh; She throws the hook, and watches; The fishes pass it by. A ring, with a red jewel, Is sparkling on her hand; Upon the hook she binds it, And flings it from the land. Uprises from the water A hand like ivory fair. What gleams upon its finger? The golden ring is there. Uprises from the bottom A young and handsome knight; In golden scales he rises, That glitter in the light. The maid is pale with terror-- 'Nay, Knight of Ocean, nay, It was not thee I wanted; Let go the ring, I pray.' 'Ah, maiden, not to fishes The bait of gold is thrown; The ring shall never leave me, And thou must be my own.' | |
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