George Gordon Noel Byron

Mark! where his carnage and his conquests cease,
He makes a solitude and calls it--peace!

Mark! where his carnage and his conquests cease,
He makes a solitude and calls it--peace!

For everything seemed resting on his nod,
As they could read in all eyes. Now to them,
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For everything seemed resting on his nod,
As they could read in all eyes. Now to them,
Who were accustomed, as a sort of god,
To see the sultan, rich in many a gem,
Like an imperial peacock stalk abroad
(That royal bird, whose tail's a diadem,)
With all the pomp of power, it was a doubt
How power could condescend to do without.

Gone--glimmering through the dream of things that were.

Gone--glimmering through the dream of things that were.

Brave men are all vertebrates; they have their softness on the
surface and their toughness in the middle.

Brave men are all vertebrates; they have their softness on the
surface and their toughness in the middle.

She had a good opinion of advice,
Like all who give and eke receive it gratis,
For read more

She had a good opinion of advice,
Like all who give and eke receive it gratis,
For which small thanks are still the market price,
Even where the article at highest rate is.