George Gordon Noel Byron

Yet, Freedom! yet thy banner, torn, but flying,
Streams like the thunder-storm against the wind.

Yet, Freedom! yet thy banner, torn, but flying,
Streams like the thunder-storm against the wind.

Nor all that heralds rake from coffin'd clay,
Nor florid prose, nor honied lies of rhyme,
Can read more

Nor all that heralds rake from coffin'd clay,
Nor florid prose, nor honied lies of rhyme,
Can blazon evil deeds, or consecrate a crime.

Fare thee well! and if for ever,
Still for ever, fare thee well.

Fare thee well! and if for ever,
Still for ever, fare thee well.

The best of prophets of the future is the past.

The best of prophets of the future is the past.

A quiet conscience makes one so serene!
Christians have burnt each other, quite persuaded
That all the read more

A quiet conscience makes one so serene!
Christians have burnt each other, quite persuaded
That all the Apostles would have done as they did.