George Gordon Noel Byron ( 10 of 329 )
And then he danced;--all foreigners excel
The serious Angles in the eloquence
Of pantomime;--he danced, I say read more
And then he danced;--all foreigners excel
The serious Angles in the eloquence
Of pantomime;--he danced, I say right well,
With emphasis, and also with good sense--
A thing in footing indispensable:
He danced without theatrical pretence,
Not like a ballet-master in the van
Of his drill'd nymphs, but like a gentleman.
Wives in their husbands' absences grow subtler,
And daughters sometimes run off with the butler.
Wives in their husbands' absences grow subtler,
And daughters sometimes run off with the butler.
His breast with wounds unnumber'd riven,
His back to earth, his face to heaven.
His breast with wounds unnumber'd riven,
His back to earth, his face to heaven.
Oh! nature's noblest gift--my gray-goose quill!
Slave of my thoughts, obedient to my will,
Torn from thy read more
Oh! nature's noblest gift--my gray-goose quill!
Slave of my thoughts, obedient to my will,
Torn from thy parent-bird to form a pen,
That might instrument of little men!
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.
Solitary trees, if they grow at all, grow strong.
Solitary trees, if they grow at all, grow strong.
The law of heaven and earth is life for life.
The law of heaven and earth is life for life.
I want a hero: an uncommon want,
When every year and month sends forth a new one.
I want a hero: an uncommon want,
When every year and month sends forth a new one.
On, Amos Cottle!--Phoebus! what a name!
On, Amos Cottle!--Phoebus! what a name!
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.
