George Gordon Noel Byron

I have a passion for the name of "Mary,"
For once it was a magic sound to me,
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I have a passion for the name of "Mary,"
For once it was a magic sound to me,
And still it half calls up the realms of fairy,
Where I beheld what never was to be.

And wrinkles, the d--d democrats, won't flatter.

And wrinkles, the d--d democrats, won't flatter.

But at sixteen the conscience rarely gnaws
So much, as when we call our old debts in
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But at sixteen the conscience rarely gnaws
So much, as when we call our old debts in
At sixty years, and draw the accounts of evil,
And find a deuced balance with the devil.

Mont Blanc is the monarch of mountains;
They crown'd him long ago
On a throne of rocks, read more

Mont Blanc is the monarch of mountains;
They crown'd him long ago
On a throne of rocks, in a robe of clouds,
With a diadem of snow.

Father of Light! great God of Heaven!
Hear'st thou the accents of despair?
Can guilt like man's read more

Father of Light! great God of Heaven!
Hear'st thou the accents of despair?
Can guilt like man's be e'er forgiven?
Can vice atone for crimes by prayer?