George Gordon Noel Byron

Know ye the land where the cypress and myrtle
Are emblems of deeds that are done in their clime,
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Know ye the land where the cypress and myrtle
Are emblems of deeds that are done in their clime,
Where the rage of the vulture, the love of the turtle,
Now melt into sorrow, now madded to crime?

Her glossy hair was cluster'd o'er a brow
Bright with intelligence, and fair and smooth;
Her eyebrow's read more

Her glossy hair was cluster'd o'er a brow
Bright with intelligence, and fair and smooth;
Her eyebrow's shape was like the aerial bow,
Her cheek all purple with the beam of youth,
Mounting, at times, to a transparent glow,
As if her veins ran lightning.

This is to be along; this, this is solitude!

This is to be along; this, this is solitude!

And angling too, that solitary vice,
What Izaak Walton sings or says:
The quaint, old, cruel coxcomb, read more

And angling too, that solitary vice,
What Izaak Walton sings or says:
The quaint, old, cruel coxcomb, in his gullet
Should have a hook, and a small trout to pull it.

Wives in their husbands' absences grow subtler,
And daughters sometimes run off with the butler.

Wives in their husbands' absences grow subtler,
And daughters sometimes run off with the butler.