Текст оригинала на английском языке
SLOWLY thy flowing tide Came in, old Avon! Scarcely did mine eyes, As watchfully I roamed thy greenwood-side, Perceive its gentle rise. With many a stroke and strong The laboring boatmen upward plied their oars; Yet little way they made, though laboring long Between thy winding shores. Now down thine ebbing tide The unlabored boat falls rapidly along; The solitary helmsman sits to guide, And sings an idle song. Now o’er the rocks, that lay So silent late, the shallow current roars; Fast flow thy waters on their seaward way, Through wider-spreading shores. Avon! I gaze, and know The lesson emblemed in thy varying way: It speaks of human joys that rise so slow, So rapidly decay. Kingdoms which long have stood, And slow to strength and power attained at last, Thus from the summit of high Fortune’s flood They ebb to ruin fast. Thus like thy flow appears Time’s tardy course to manhood’s envied stage; Alas! how hurryingly the ebbing years Then hasten to old age!
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