George Gordon Noel Byron

I depart,
Whither I know not; but the hour's gone by
When Albion's lessening shores could grieve read more

I depart,
Whither I know not; but the hour's gone by
When Albion's lessening shores could grieve or glad mine eye.

A quiet conscience makes one so serene!
Christians have burnt each other, quite persuaded
That all the read more

A quiet conscience makes one so serene!
Christians have burnt each other, quite persuaded
That all the Apostles would have done as they did.

Better to sink beneath the shock
Than moulder piecemeal on the rock!

Better to sink beneath the shock
Than moulder piecemeal on the rock!

Ancient of days! august Athena! where,
Where are thy men of might? thy grand in soul?
Gone--glimmering read more

Ancient of days! august Athena! where,
Where are thy men of might? thy grand in soul?
Gone--glimmering through the dream of things that were;
First in the race that led to glory's goal,
They won, and pass'd away--Is this the whole?

'Tis not on youth's smooth cheek the blush alone, which fades so
fast,
But the tender bloom of read more

'Tis not on youth's smooth cheek the blush alone, which fades so
fast,
But the tender bloom of heart is gone, ere youth itself be past.