When a man hath no freedom to fight for at home, Let him combat for that of his neighbours; Let him think of the glories of Greece and of Rome, And g… - Lord Byron

To do good to mankind is the chivalrous plan,
And is always as nobly requited;
Then battle for freedom wherever you can,
And, if not shot or hang’d, you’ll get knighted.

The light of love, the purity of grace,
The mind, the Music breathing from her face,
The heart whose softness harmonised the whole — And, oh! that eye was in itself a Soul!

Of all the horrid, hideous notes of woe,
Sadder than owl- songs or the midnight blast,
Is that portentous phrase, “I told you so,”
Utter’d by friends, those prophets of the past,
Who, ’stead of saying what you now should do,
Own they foresaw that you would fall at last,
And solace your slight lapse ’gainst “bonos mores,”
With a long memorandum of old stories.

The cold in clime are cold in blood, Their love can scarce deserve the name.