George Gordon Noel Byron

For everything seemed resting on his nod,
As they could read in all eyes. Now to them,
read more

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.

Maid of Athens, ere we part,
Give, oh, give me back my heart!

Maid of Athens, ere we part,
Give, oh, give me back my heart!

Ye tuneful cobblers! still your notes prolong,
Compose at once a slipper and a song;
So shall read more

Ye tuneful cobblers! still your notes prolong,
Compose at once a slipper and a song;
So shall the fair your handiwork peruse,
Your sonnets sure shall please--perhaps your shoes.

Dead scandals form good subjects for dissection.

Dead scandals form good subjects for dissection.

Oh, who can tell, save he whose heart hath tried?

Oh, who can tell, save he whose heart hath tried?