George Gordon Noel Byron

There were his young barbarians all at play
There was their Dacian mother--he, their sire,
Butcher'd to read more

There were his young barbarians all at play
There was their Dacian mother--he, their sire,
Butcher'd to make a Roman holiday.

As soon
Seek roses in December--ice in June,
Hope, constancy in wind, or corn in chaff;
read more

As soon
Seek roses in December--ice in June,
Hope, constancy in wind, or corn in chaff;
Believe a woman or an epitaph,
Or any other thing that's false, before
You trust in critics.

I am bound to furnish my antagonists with arguments, but not with
comprehension.

I am bound to furnish my antagonists with arguments, but not with
comprehension.

'Tis solitude should teach us how to die;
It hath no flatterers; vanity can give
No hollow read more

'Tis solitude should teach us how to die;
It hath no flatterers; vanity can give
No hollow aid; alone--man with his God must strive.

Yet how much less it were to gain,
Though thou hast left me free,
The loveliest things read more

Yet how much less it were to gain,
Though thou hast left me free,
The loveliest things that still remain,
Than thus remember thee.