Sick or well, at sea or shore;
While we're quaffing,
Let 's have laughing—
Who the devil cares for more?—
Some good wine! and who would lack it,
Ev'n on board the Lisbon Packet?
[First published, Letters and Journals, 1830, i. 230-232.]
[TO DIVES.[1] A FRAGMENT.]
Unhappy Dives! in an evil hour
'Gainst Nature's voice seduced to deeds accurst!
Once Fortune's minion now thou feel'st her power;
Wrath's vial on thy lofty head hath burst.
In Wit, in Genius, as in Wealth the first,
How wondrous bright thy blooming morn arose!
But thou wert smitten with th' unhallowed thirst
Of Crime unnamed, and thy sad noon must close
In scorn and solitude unsought the worst of woes.
[First published, Lord Byron's Works, 1833, xvii. 241.]
FAREWELL PETITION TO J. C. H., ESQRE.
O thou yclep'd by vulgar sons of Men
Cam Hobhouse![2] but by wags Byzantian Ben!
Twin sacred titles, which combined appear
