George Gordon Noel Byron

On the ear
Drops the light drip of the suspended oar.

On the ear
Drops the light drip of the suspended oar.

The languages, especially the dead,
The sciences, and most of all the abstruse,
The arts, at least read more

The languages, especially the dead,
The sciences, and most of all the abstruse,
The arts, at least all such as could be said
To be the most remote from common use,
In all these he was much and deeply read.

Not fewer than three nor more than nine.
[Lat., Neque pauciores tribus, neque plures novem.]

Not fewer than three nor more than nine.
[Lat., Neque pauciores tribus, neque plures novem.]

Fools are my theme, let satire be my song.

Fools are my theme, let satire be my song.

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!