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- Стр. 164/1366
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Made
me
unjust
against
myself
,
the
just
.
I
,
by
the
roots
unwonted
of
this
wood
,
Do
swear
to
you
that
never
broke
I
faith
Unto
my
lord
,
who
was
so
worthy
of
honour
;
And
to
the
world
if
one
of
you
return
,
Let
him
my
memory
comfort
,
which
is
lying
Still
prostrate
from
the
blow
that
envy
dealt
it
.
"
Waited
awhile
,
and
then
:
"
Since
he
is
silent
,
"
The
Poet
said
to
me
,
"
lose
not
the
time
,
But
speak
,
and
question
him
,
if
more
may
please
thee
.
"
