George Gordon Noel Byron

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

In solitude, when we are least alone.

In solitude, when we are least alone.

Modesty is the only sure bait when you are fishing for praise.

Modesty is the only sure bait when you are fishing for praise.

A lady with her daughters or her nieces,
Shines like a guinea and seven shilling pieces.

A lady with her daughters or her nieces,
Shines like a guinea and seven shilling pieces.

Pure friendship's well-feigned blush.

Pure friendship's well-feigned blush.