George Gordon Noel Byron

Then farewell, Horace; whom I hated so,
Not for thy faults, but mine.

Then farewell, Horace; whom I hated so,
Not for thy faults, but mine.

They never fail who die
In a great cause.

They never fail who die
In a great cause.

'Tis pleasing to be school'd in a strange tongue
By female lips and eyes--that is, I mean,
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'Tis pleasing to be school'd in a strange tongue
By female lips and eyes--that is, I mean,
When both the teacher and the taught are young,
As was the case, at least, where I have been;
They smile so when one's right; and when one's wrong
They smile still more.

Yet smelt roast meat, beheld a huge fire shine,
And cooks in motion with their clean arms bared.

Yet smelt roast meat, beheld a huge fire shine,
And cooks in motion with their clean arms bared.

Whatsoe'er thy birth,
Thou wert a beautiful thought and softly bodied forth.

Whatsoe'er thy birth,
Thou wert a beautiful thought and softly bodied forth.