George Gordon Noel Byron

Like the lost pleiad seen no more below.

Like the lost pleiad seen no more below.

I die,--but first I have possess'd,
And come what may, I have been bless'd.

I die,--but first I have possess'd,
And come what may, I have been bless'd.

What is the end of Fame? 'tis but to fill
A certain portion of uncertain paper:
Some read more

What is the end of Fame? 'tis but to fill
A certain portion of uncertain paper:
Some liken it to climbing up a hill,
Whose summit, like all hills, is lost in vapour:
For this men write, speak, preach, and heroes kill,
And bards burn what they call their "midnight taper,"
To have, when the original is dust,
A name, a wretched picture, and worse bust.

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.

Among them, but not of them.

Among them, but not of them.