George Gordon Noel Byron

The dome of Thought, the palace of the Soul.

The dome of Thought, the palace of the Soul.

'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.

These two hated with a hate
Found only on the stage.

These two hated with a hate
Found only on the stage.

How chang'd since last her speaking eye
Glanc'd gladness round the glitt'ring room,
Where high-born men were read more

How chang'd since last her speaking eye
Glanc'd gladness round the glitt'ring room,
Where high-born men were proud to wait--
Where Beauty watched to imitate.

Most glorious night!
Thou wert not sent for slumber!

Most glorious night!
Thou wert not sent for slumber!