George Gordon Noel Byron

Born in the garret, in the kitchen bred.

Born in the garret, in the kitchen bred.

For Freedom's battle once begun,
Bequeath'd by bleeding sire to son,
Though baffled oft is ever won.

For Freedom's battle once begun,
Bequeath'd by bleeding sire to son,
Though baffled oft is ever won.

I prefer the most unfair peace to the most righteous war.
[Lat., Iniquissimam pacem justissimo bello antefero.]

I prefer the most unfair peace to the most righteous war.
[Lat., Iniquissimam pacem justissimo bello antefero.]

In Venice, Tass's echoes are no more,
And silent rows the songless gondolier;
Her palaces are crumbling read more

In Venice, Tass's echoes are no more,
And silent rows the songless gondolier;
Her palaces are crumbling to the shore,
And music meets not always now the ear.

Hot from the hands promiscuously applied,
Round the slight waist, or down the glowing side.

Hot from the hands promiscuously applied,
Round the slight waist, or down the glowing side.