A change came o'er the spirit of my dream. - Lord Byron

Short speeches pass between two men who speak
No common language; and besides, in time
Of war and taking towns, when many a shriek
Rings o’er the dialogue, and many a crime
Is perpetrated ere a word can break
Upon the ear, and sounds of horror chime
In like church-bells, with sigh, howl, groan, yell, prayer,
There cannot be much conversation there.

And therefore all we have related in
Two long octaves, pass’d in a little minute;
But in the same small minute, every sin
Contrived to get itself comprised within it.

Where all have gone, and all must go
To be the nothing that I was
'Ere born to life and living woe!

I may stand alone,
But would not change my free thoughts for a throne.