George Gordon Noel Byron

A quiet conscience makes one so serene!
Christians have burnt each other, quite persuaded
That all the read more

A quiet conscience makes one so serene!
Christians have burnt each other, quite persuaded
That all the Apostles would have done as they did.

For what were all these country patriots born?
To hunt, and vote, and raise the price of corn?

For what were all these country patriots born?
To hunt, and vote, and raise the price of corn?

Her eye (I'm very fond of handsome eyes)
Was large and dark, suppressing half its fire
Until read more

Her eye (I'm very fond of handsome eyes)
Was large and dark, suppressing half its fire
Until she spoke, then through its soft disguise
Flash'd an expression more of pride than ire,
And love than either; and there would arise,
A something in them which was not desire,
But would have been, perhaps, but for the soul,
Which struggled through and chansten'd down the whole.

Ah! happy years! once more who would not be a boy!

Ah! happy years! once more who would not be a boy!

But now being lifted into high society,
And having pick'd up several odds and ends
Of free read more

But now being lifted into high society,
And having pick'd up several odds and ends
Of free thoughts in his travels for variety,
He deem'd, being in a lone isle, among friends,
That without any danger of a riot, he
Might for long lying make himself amends;
And singing as he sung in his warm youth,
Agree to a short armistice with truth.