George Gordon Noel Byron

Around his form his loose long robe was thrown,
And wrapt a breast bestowed on heaven alone.

Around his form his loose long robe was thrown,
And wrapt a breast bestowed on heaven alone.

One must be a god to be able to tell successes from failures
without making a mistake.

One must be a god to be able to tell successes from failures
without making a mistake.

Maidens, like moths, are ever caught, by glare,
And Mammon wins his way where seraphs might despair.

Maidens, like moths, are ever caught, by glare,
And Mammon wins his way where seraphs might despair.

A mere court butterfly,
That flutters in the pageant of a monarch.

A mere court butterfly,
That flutters in the pageant of a monarch.

I love the language, that soft bastard Latin,
Which melts like kisses from a female mouth.

I love the language, that soft bastard Latin,
Which melts like kisses from a female mouth.