Текст оригинала на английском языке
“BRING me,” he said, “that scribe of fame, Symeon el Siddekah his name: With parchment skin, and pen in hand, I would devise my Cornish land. “Seven goodly manors, fair and wide, Stretch from the sea to Tamar side: And Bien-aimé, my hall and bower, Nestles beneath tall Stratton Tower. “All these I render to my God, By seal and signet, knife and sod: I give and grant to church and poor, In franc-almoign forevermore. “Choose ye seven men among the just, And bid them hold my lands in trust; On Michael’s morn, and Mary’s day, To deal the dole, and watch and pray. “Then bear me coldly o’er the deep, Mid my own people I would sleep: Their hearts shall melt, their prayers will breathe, Where he who loved them rests beneath. “Mould me in stone as here I lie, My face upturned to Syria’s sky: Carve ye this good sword at my side, And write the legend, ‘True and tried.’ “Let mass be said, and requiem sung; And that sweet chime I loved be rung: Those sounds along the northern wall Shall thrill me like a trumpet-call.” Thus said he, and at set of sun The bold Crusader’s race was run. Seek ye his ruined hall and bower? Then stand beneath tall Stratton Tower.
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