George Gordon Noel Byron

Weren't the last drop in the well,
As I gasp'd upon the brink,
Ere my fainting spirit read more

Weren't the last drop in the well,
As I gasp'd upon the brink,
Ere my fainting spirit fell,
'Tis to thee that I would drink.

Such parting break the heart they fondly hope to heal.

Such parting break the heart they fondly hope to heal.

Dim with the mist of years, gray flits the shade of power.

Dim with the mist of years, gray flits the shade of power.

He left a Corsair's name to other times,
Linked with one virtue, and a thousand crimes.

He left a Corsair's name to other times,
Linked with one virtue, and a thousand crimes.

Like to the apples on the Dead Sea's shore,
All ashes to the taste.

Like to the apples on the Dead Sea's shore,
All ashes to the taste.