George Gordon Noel Byron

I depart,
Whither I know not; but the hour's gone by
When Albion's lessening shores could grieve read more

I depart,
Whither I know not; but the hour's gone by
When Albion's lessening shores could grieve or glad mine eye.

When falls the Coliseum, Rome shall fall;
And when Rome falls--the World.

When falls the Coliseum, Rome shall fall;
And when Rome falls--the World.

Perhaps the early grave
Which men weep over may be meant to save.

Perhaps the early grave
Which men weep over may be meant to save.

On the ear
Drops the light drip of the suspended oar.

On the ear
Drops the light drip of the suspended oar.

His breast with wounds unnumber'd riven,
His back to earth, his face to heaven.

His breast with wounds unnumber'd riven,
His back to earth, his face to heaven.