George Gordon Noel Byron

Her eye (I'm very fond of handsome eyes)
Was large and dark, suppressing half its fire
Until read more

Her eye (I'm very fond of handsome eyes)
Was large and dark, suppressing half its fire
Until she spoke, then through its soft disguise
Flash'd an expression more of pride than ire,
And love than either; and there would arise,
A something in them which was not desire,
But would have been, perhaps, but for the soul,
Which struggled through and chansten'd down the whole.

A thousand hearts beat happily; and when
Music arose with its voluptuous swell,
Soft eyes look'd love read more

A thousand hearts beat happily; and when
Music arose with its voluptuous swell,
Soft eyes look'd love to eyes which spake again,
And all went merry as a marriage bell.

Oh that the desert were my dwelling-place!

Oh that the desert were my dwelling-place!

Mark! where his carnage and his conquests cease,
He makes a solitude and calls it--peace!

Mark! where his carnage and his conquests cease,
He makes a solitude and calls it--peace!

Brave men were living before Agamemnon.

Brave men were living before Agamemnon.