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Эндрю Мервелл Эндрю Мервелланглийский поэт


O who shall me deliver whole,
From bonds of this tyrannic soul?
Which, stretched up right, impales me so,
That mine own precipice I go;
And warms and moves this needless frame:
(A fever could but do the same.)
And wanting where its spite to try,
Has made me live to let me die.
A body that could never rest,
Since this ill spirit is possessed.

Эндрю Мервелл


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