George Gordon Noel Byron

A lovely being, scarcely formed or moulded,
A rose with all its sweetest leaves yet folded.

A lovely being, scarcely formed or moulded,
A rose with all its sweetest leaves yet folded.

Fools are my theme, let satire be my song.

Fools are my theme, let satire be my song.

Oh, for one hour of blind old Dandolo,
Th' octogenarian chief, Byzantium's conquering foe!

Oh, for one hour of blind old Dandolo,
Th' octogenarian chief, Byzantium's conquering foe!

For Freedom's battle once begun,
Bequeath'd by bleeding sire to son,
Though baffled oft is ever won.

For Freedom's battle once begun,
Bequeath'd by bleeding sire to son,
Though baffled oft is ever won.

Then farewell, Horace; whom I hated so,
Not for thy faults, but mine.

Then farewell, Horace; whom I hated so,
Not for thy faults, but mine.