The Rape of Lucrece. Уильям Шекспир

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      What could he see but mightily he noted?

      What did he note but strongly he desir'd?

      What he beheld, on that he firmly doted,

      And in his will his wilful eye he tir'd.

      With more than admiration he admir'd

        Her azure veins, her alabaster skin,

        Her coral lips, her snow-white dimpled chin.

      As the grim lion fawneth o'er his prey,

      Sharp hunger by the conquest satisfied,