George Gordon Noel Byron

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.

Yet, Freedom! yet thy banner, torn, but flying,
Streams like the thunder-storm against the wind.

Yet, Freedom! yet thy banner, torn, but flying,
Streams like the thunder-storm against the wind.

She bears her down majestically near,
Speed on her prow, and terror in her tier.

She bears her down majestically near,
Speed on her prow, and terror in her tier.

I have not loved the world, not the world me;
I have not flatter'd its rank breath, nor bow'd
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I have not loved the world, not the world me;
I have not flatter'd its rank breath, nor bow'd
To its idolatries a patient knee.

I want a hero: an uncommon want,
When every year and month sends forth a new one.

I want a hero: an uncommon want,
When every year and month sends forth a new one.