George Gordon Noel Byron ( 10 of 329 )
What gem hath dropp'd, and sparkles o'er his chain?
The tear most sacred, shed for other's pain,
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What gem hath dropp'd, and sparkles o'er his chain?
The tear most sacred, shed for other's pain,
That starts at once--bright pure--from Pity's mine,
Already polish'd by the hand divine!
Smiles form the channels of a future tear.
Smiles form the channels of a future tear.
Dead scandals form good subjects for dissection.
Dead scandals form good subjects for dissection.
Kathleen Mavourneen, the gray dawn is breaking,
The horn of the hunter is heard on the hill,
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Kathleen Mavourneen, the gray dawn is breaking,
The horn of the hunter is heard on the hill,
The lark from her light wing the bright dew is shaking--
Kathleen Mavourneen, what, slumbering, still?
Oh hast thou forgotten how soon we must sever?
Oh hast thou forgotten this day we must part?
It may be for years and it may be forever;
Oh why art thou silent, thou voice of my heart?
Brave men were living before Agamemnon.
Brave men were living before Agamemnon.
When health, affrighted, spreads her rosy wing,
And flies with every changing gale of spring.
When health, affrighted, spreads her rosy wing,
And flies with every changing gale of spring.
So sweet the blush of bashfulness,
E'en pity scarce can wish it less!
So sweet the blush of bashfulness,
E'en pity scarce can wish it less!
Yet smelt roast meat, beheld a huge fire shine,
And cooks in motion with their clean arms bared.
Yet smelt roast meat, beheld a huge fire shine,
And cooks in motion with their clean arms bared.
Yet still there whispers the small voice within,
Heard through Gain's silence, and o'er Glory's din;
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Yet still there whispers the small voice within,
Heard through Gain's silence, and o'er Glory's din;
Whatever creed be taught or land be trod,
Man's conscience is the oracle of God.
Oh that the desert were my dwelling-place!
Oh that the desert were my dwelling-place!
