My poem's epic, and is meant to be - Lord Byron

There rose no day there rolled no hour
Of pleasure unembittered;
And not a trapping decked my Power
That galled not while it glittered.

Oh who can tell, save he whose heart hath tried.

That is the usual method, but not mine–
My way is to begin with the beginning;
The regularity of my design
Forbids all wandering as the worst of sinning,
And therefore I shall open with a line
(Although it cost me half an hour in spinning)