Текст оригинала на английском языке
The River Duddon (FROM this deep chasm, where quivering sunbeams play)
FROM this deep chasm, where quivering sunbeams play Upon its loftiest crags, mine eyes behold A gloomy niche, capacious, blank, and cold; A concave free from shrubs and mosses gray; In semblance fresh, as if, with dire affray, Some statue, placed amid these regions old For tutelary service, thence had rolled, Startling the flight of timid yesterday! Was it by mortals sculptured?—weary slaves Of slow endeavor! or abruptly cast Into rude shape by fire, with roaring blast Tempestuously let loose from central caves? Or fashioned by the turbulence of waves, Then when o’er highest hills the deluge passed?
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