George Gordon Noel Byron

And angling too, that solitary vice,
What Izaak Walton sings or says:
The quaint, old, cruel coxcomb, read more

And angling too, that solitary vice,
What Izaak Walton sings or says:
The quaint, old, cruel coxcomb, in his gullet
Should have a hook, and a small trout to pull it.

What deep wounds ever closed without a scar?
The hearts bleed longest, and but heal to wear
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What deep wounds ever closed without a scar?
The hearts bleed longest, and but heal to wear
That which disfigures it.

And Doubt and Discord step 'twixt thine and thee.

And Doubt and Discord step 'twixt thine and thee.

For everything seemed resting on his nod,
As they could read in all eyes. Now to them,
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For everything seemed resting on his nod,
As they could read in all eyes. Now to them,
Who were accustomed, as a sort of god,
To see the sultan, rich in many a gem,
Like an imperial peacock stalk abroad
(That royal bird, whose tail's a diadem,)
With all the pomp of power, it was a doubt
How power could condescend to do without.

Brave men were living before Agamemnon.

Brave men were living before Agamemnon.