THE MESSENGER - Лавкрафт Говард Филлипс - Страница 1

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Говард Филлипс Лавкрафт

THE MESSENGER

The thing, he said, would come in the night at threeFrom the old churchyard on the hill below;But crouching by an oak fire's wholesome glow,I tried to tell myself it could not be.Surely, I mused, it was pleasantryDevised by one who did not truly knowThe Elder Sign, bequeathed from long ago,That sets the fumbling forms of darkness free.He had not meant it — no — but still I litAnother lamp as starry Leo climbedOut of the Seekonk, and a steeple chimedThree — and the firelight faded, bit by bit.Then at the door that cautious rattling came -And the mad truth devoured me like a flame!