Lord Byron - The Corsair

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He left a corsair's name to other times,
Linked with one virtue, and a thousand crimes.

Lord Byron
No words suffice the secret soul to show,
For truth denies all eloquence to woe.

Lord Byron
O'er the glad waters of the dark blue sea,
Our thoughts as boundless, and our souls as free,
Far as the breeze can bear, the billows foam, 22
Survey our empire, and behold our home!
These are our realms, no limit to their sway,—
Our flag the sceptre all who meet obey.

Lord Byron
Oh! too convincing — dangerously dear —
In woman's eye the unanswerable tear!

Lord Byron
Slow sinks, more lovely ere his race be run,
Along Morea's hills the setting sun;
Not, as in northern climes, obscurely bright,
But one unclouded blaze of living light.

Lord Byron
And she for him had given
Her all on earth, and more than all in heaven!

Lord Byron
She walks the waters like a thing of life,
And seems to dare the elements to strife.

Lord Byron
The spirit burning but unbent,
May writhe, rebel—the weak alone repent!

Lord Byron
Such hath it been — shall be — beneath the sun
The many still must labour for the one!

Lord Byron
Farewell!
For in that word, that fatal word,—howe'er
We promise, hope, believe,—there breathes despair.

Lord Byron
The fatal facility of the octosyllabic verse.

Lord Byron