George Gordon Noel Byron

For florid prose, nor honied lies of rhyme,
Can blazon evil deeds, or consecrate a crime.

For florid prose, nor honied lies of rhyme,
Can blazon evil deeds, or consecrate a crime.

And nearer as they came, a genial savour
Of certain stews, and roast-meats, and pilaus.
Things which read more

And nearer as they came, a genial savour
Of certain stews, and roast-meats, and pilaus.
Things which in hungry mortals' eyes find favour.

Think'st thou there is no tyranny but that
Of blood and chains? The despotism of vice--
The read more

Think'st thou there is no tyranny but that
Of blood and chains? The despotism of vice--
The weakness and the wickedness of luxury--
The negligence--the apathy--the evils
Of sensual sloth--produces ten thousand tyrants,
Whose delegated cruelty surpasses
The worst acts of one energetic master,
However harsh and hard in his own bearing.

Fools are my theme, let satire be my song.

Fools are my theme, let satire be my song.

Time writes no wrinkle on thine azure brow,
Such as Creation's dawn beheld, thou rollest now.

Time writes no wrinkle on thine azure brow,
Such as Creation's dawn beheld, thou rollest now.