George Gordon Noel Byron

And, after all, what is a lie? 'Tis but
The truth in masquerade.

And, after all, what is a lie? 'Tis but
The truth in masquerade.

The truly brave,
When they behold the brave oppressed with odds,
Are touched with a desire to read more

The truly brave,
When they behold the brave oppressed with odds,
Are touched with a desire to shield and save:--
A mixture of wild beasts and demi-gods
Are they--now furious as the sweeping wave,
Now moved with pity; even as sometimes nods
The rugged tree unto the summer wind,
Compassion breathes along the savage mind.

Besides, they always smell of bread and butter.

Besides, they always smell of bread and butter.

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!

'Tis pleasant, sure, to see one's name in print;
A book's a book, although there's nothing in 't.

'Tis pleasant, sure, to see one's name in print;
A book's a book, although there's nothing in 't.