George Gordon Noel Byron

Nor ear can hear nor tongue can tell
The tortures of that inward hell!

Nor ear can hear nor tongue can tell
The tortures of that inward hell!

Sweet is old wine in bottles, ale in barrels.

Sweet is old wine in bottles, ale in barrels.

Come, lay thy head upon my breast,
And I will kiss thee into rest.

Come, lay thy head upon my breast,
And I will kiss thee into rest.

What is the end of Fame? 'tis but to fill
A certain portion of uncertain paper:
Some read more

What is the end of Fame? 'tis but to fill
A certain portion of uncertain paper:
Some liken it to climbing up a hill,
Whose summit, like all hills, is lost in vapour:
For this men write, speak, preach, and heroes kill,
And bards burn what they call their "midnight taper,"
To have, when the original is dust,
A name, a wretched picture, and worse bust.

Around his form his loose long robe was thrown,
And wrapt a breast bestowed on heaven alone.

Around his form his loose long robe was thrown,
And wrapt a breast bestowed on heaven alone.