Fair Greece! sad relic of departed worth! Immortal, though no more! though fallen, great!
Lord ByronTime strips our illusions of their hue, And one by one in turn, some grand mistake Casts off its bright skin yearly like the snake.
Lord ByronEgypt! from whose all dateless tombs arose Forgotten Pharaohs from their long repose, And shook within their pyramids to hear A new Cambyses thundering in their ear; While the dark shades of forty ages stood Like startled giants by Nile's famous flood.
Lord ByronAnd the small ripple spilt upon the beach Scarcely o'erpass'd the cream of your champagne, When o'er the brim the sparkling bumpers reach, That spring-dew of the spirit! the heart's rain! Few things surpass old wine; and they may preach Who please,โthe more because they preach in vain,โ Let us have wine and women, mirth and laughter, Sermons and soda-water the day after.
Lord Byron