WHEN we crown a bowl to him Of the noble heart and true, Ere we touch the bumper's brim, We, Byron, think of you! Whether beside the waters Of Venice yet you rove, And teach her dark-eyed daughters A bard's melodious love; Or by some fallen column In Græcia's mighty clime, You turn to Time's dark volume, And trace the tale sublime Of Freedom and of Glory Which once were glowing there, And whose inspiring story Yet soothes her sons' despair. Where'er by land you roam, Or at sea your sail be set, Think that you've left at home Some hearts which @3can't@1 forget; For whene'er we crown our bowls To a noble heart and true, From the bottom of our souls We, Byron, drink to you! |