George Gordon Noel Byron

Most glorious night!
Thou wert not sent for slumber!

Most glorious night!
Thou wert not sent for slumber!

I have not loved the world, not the world me;
I have not flatter'd its rank breath, nor bow'd
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I have not loved the world, not the world me;
I have not flatter'd its rank breath, nor bow'd
To its idolatries a patient knee.

And then he danced;--all foreigners excel
The serious Angles in the eloquence
Of pantomime;--he danced, I say read more

And then he danced;--all foreigners excel
The serious Angles in the eloquence
Of pantomime;--he danced, I say right well,
With emphasis, and also with good sense--
A thing in footing indispensable:
He danced without theatrical pretence,
Not like a ballet-master in the van
Of his drill'd nymphs, but like a gentleman.

Exhausting thought,
And having wisdom with each studious year.

Exhausting thought,
And having wisdom with each studious year.

O Rome! my country! city of the soul!

O Rome! my country! city of the soul!