Explore "The Talisman. from the Russian of Pushkin" by George Borrow on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
Where fierce the surge with awful bellow / Doth ever lash the rocky wall; / And where the moon most brightly mellow / Dost beam when mists of evening fall; / Where midst his harem's countless blisses / The Moslem spends his vital span, / A Sorceress there with gentle kisses / Presented me a Talisman.
And said: until thy latest minute / Preserve, preserve my Talisman; / A secret power it holds within it -- / 'Twas love, true love the gift did plan. / From pest on land, or death on ocean, / When hurricanes its surface fan, / O object of my fond devotion! / Thou scap'st not by my Talisman.