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.

But these are foolish things to all the wise,
And I love wisdom more than she loves me;
read more

But these are foolish things to all the wise,
And I love wisdom more than she loves me;
My tendency is to philosophise
On most things, from a tyrant to a tree;
But still the spouseless virgin Knowledge flies,
What are we? and whence come we? what shall be
Our ultimate existence? What's our present?
Are questions answerless, and yet incessant.

Maidens, like moths, are ever caught, by glare,
And Mammon wins his way where seraphs might despair.

Maidens, like moths, are ever caught, by glare,
And Mammon wins his way where seraphs might despair.

Yet still there whispers the small voice within,
Heard through Gain's silence, and o'er Glory's din;
Whatever read more

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.

O ye! who teach the ingenious youth of nations,
Holland, France, England, Germany or Spain,
I pray read more

O ye! who teach the ingenious youth of nations,
Holland, France, England, Germany or Spain,
I pray ye flog them upon all occasions,
It mends their morals, never mind the pain.