George Gordon Noel Byron

Men freely believe that which they wish to be the truth.

Men freely believe that which they wish to be the truth.

Roll on, thou deep and dark blue Ocean--roll!
Ten thousand fleets sweep over thee in vain;
Man read more

Roll on, thou deep and dark blue Ocean--roll!
Ten thousand fleets sweep over thee in vain;
Man marks the earth with ruin--his control
Stops with the shore.

On, Amos Cottle!--Phoebus! what a name!

On, Amos Cottle!--Phoebus! what a name!

There was no great disparity of years,
Though much in temper; but they never clash'd,
They moved read more

There was no great disparity of years,
Though much in temper; but they never clash'd,
They moved like stars united in their spheres,
Or like the Rhone by Leman's waters wash'd,
Where mingled and yet separate appears
The river from the lake, all bluely dash'd
Through the serene and placid glassy deep,
Which fain would lull its river-child to sleep.

Ah! were I sever'd from thy side,
Where were thy friend and who my guide?
Years have read more

Ah! were I sever'd from thy side,
Where were thy friend and who my guide?
Years have not seen, Time shall not see
The hour that tears my soul from thee.