There's naught, no doubt, so much the spirit calms as rum and true religion. - Lord Byron

It glides along the water looking blackly,
Just like a coffin clapt in a canoe,
Where none can make out what you say or do.

How dull! to hear the voice of those
Whom Rank or Chance, whom Wealth or Power,
Have made, though neither friends nor foes,
Associates of the festive hour.
Give me again a faithful few,
In years and feelings still the same,
And I will fly the midnight crew,
Where boist'rous Joy is but a name.

Being of no party,
I shall offend all parties