George Gordon Noel Byron

The dome of Thought, the palace of the Soul.

The dome of Thought, the palace of the Soul.

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?

. . . all who joy would win
Must share it.--Happiness was born a twin.

. . . all who joy would win
Must share it.--Happiness was born a twin.

But now being lifted into high society,
And having pick'd up several odds and ends
Of free read more

But now being lifted into high society,
And having pick'd up several odds and ends
Of free thoughts in his travels for variety,
He deem'd, being in a lone isle, among friends,
That without any danger of a riot, he
Might for long lying make himself amends;
And singing as he sung in his warm youth,
Agree to a short armistice with truth.

Not fewer than three nor more than nine.
[Lat., Neque pauciores tribus, neque plures novem.]

Not fewer than three nor more than nine.
[Lat., Neque pauciores tribus, neque plures novem.]