George Gordon Noel Byron

I am the very slave of circumstance
And impulse--borne away with every breath.

I am the very slave of circumstance
And impulse--borne away with every breath.

When health, affrighted, spreads her rosy wing,
And flies with every changing gale of spring.

When health, affrighted, spreads her rosy wing,
And flies with every changing gale of spring.

Sofas 'twas half a sin to sit upon,
So costly were they; carpets, every stitch
Of workmanship read more

Sofas 'twas half a sin to sit upon,
So costly were they; carpets, every stitch
Of workmanship so rare, they make you wish
You could glide o'er them like a golden fish.

Oh, for a forty-parson power to chant
Thy praise, Hypocrisy! Oh, for a hymn
Loud as the read more

Oh, for a forty-parson power to chant
Thy praise, Hypocrisy! Oh, for a hymn
Loud as the virtues thou dost loudly vaunt,
Not practise!

So sweet the blush of bashfulness,
E'en pity scarce can wish it less!

So sweet the blush of bashfulness,
E'en pity scarce can wish it less!