George Gordon Noel Byron

A would-be satirist, a hired buffoon,
A monthly scribbler of some low lampoon,
Condemn'd to drudge, the read more

A would-be satirist, a hired buffoon,
A monthly scribbler of some low lampoon,
Condemn'd to drudge, the meanest of the mean,
And furbish falsehoods for a magazine.

With more capacity for love than earth
Bestows on most of mortal mould and birth,
His early read more

With more capacity for love than earth
Bestows on most of mortal mould and birth,
His early dreams of good out-stripp'd the truth,
And troubled manhood follow'd baffled youth.

A change came o'er the spirit of my dream.

A change came o'er the spirit of my dream.

Sofas 'twas half a sin to sit upon,
So costly were they; carpets, every stitch
Of workmanship read more

Sofas 'twas half a sin to sit upon,
So costly were they; carpets, every stitch
Of workmanship so rare, they make you wish
You could glide o'er them like a golden fish.

His heart was one of those which most enamour us,
Wax to receive, and marble to retain.

His heart was one of those which most enamour us,
Wax to receive, and marble to retain.