And those who saw, it did surprise, Such drops could fall from human eyes. - Lord Byron

When elements to elements conform,
And dust is as it should be, shall I not
Feel all I see, less dazzling, but more warm?
The bodiless thought? the Spirit of each spot?
Of which, even now, I share at times the immortal lot?

I cannot conceive why people will always mix up my own character and opinions with those of the imaginary beings which, as a poet, I have the right and liberty to draw.

"Júlia lutou, pensou, se arrependeu (A little still she strove and much repented,)
E dizendo "Não cedo!", ela cedeu. (And whispering, 'I will ne'er consent' - consented.)"