George Gordon Noel Byron

And angling too, that solitary vice,
What Izaak Walton sings or says:
The quaint, old, cruel coxcomb, read more

And angling too, that solitary vice,
What Izaak Walton sings or says:
The quaint, old, cruel coxcomb, in his gullet
Should have a hook, and a small trout to pull it.

Where may the wearied eye repose,
When gazing on the Great;
Where neither guilty glory glows,
read more

Where may the wearied eye repose,
When gazing on the Great;
Where neither guilty glory glows,
Nor despicable state?
Yes--one the first, the last, the best,
The Cincinnatus of the West
Whom envy dared not hate,
Bequeathed the name of Washington
To make man blush; there was but one.

Think not I am what I appear.

Think not I am what I appear.

How beauteous are rouleaus! how charming chests
Containing ingots, bags of dollars, coins
(Not of old victors, read more

How beauteous are rouleaus! how charming chests
Containing ingots, bags of dollars, coins
(Not of old victors, all whose heads and crests
Weigh not the thin ore where their visage shines,
But) of find unclipt gold, where dully rests
Some likeness, which the glittering cirque confines,
Of modern, reigning, sterling, stupid stamp;--
Yes! ready money is Aladdin's lamp.

Father! no prophet's laws I seek,--
Thy laws in Nature's works appear;--
I own myself corrupt and read more

Father! no prophet's laws I seek,--
Thy laws in Nature's works appear;--
I own myself corrupt and weak,
Yet will I pray, for thou wilt hear.