George Gordon Noel Byron

Fair Greece! and relic of departed worth!
Immortal, though no more; though fallen great!

Fair Greece! and relic of departed worth!
Immortal, though no more; though fallen great!

Men are the sport of circumstances, when
The circumstances seem the sport of men.

Men are the sport of circumstances, when
The circumstances seem the sport of men.

Nor ear can hear nor tongue can tell
The tortures of that inward hell!

Nor ear can hear nor tongue can tell
The tortures of that inward hell!

There is a pleasure in the pathless woods,
There is a rapture on the lonely shore,
There read more

There is a pleasure in the pathless woods,
There is a rapture on the lonely shore,
There is society where none intrudes
By the deep Sea, and music in its roar.

Soprano, basso, even the contra-alto
Wished him five fathom under the Rialto.

Soprano, basso, even the contra-alto
Wished him five fathom under the Rialto.