Dedication: To Lord Byron

Not for thy crabbed state-creed, wayward wight,
Thy noble lineage, nor thy virtues high,
(God bless the mark !) do I this homage plight ;
No — 'tis thy bold and native energy ;
Thy soul that dares each bound to overfly,
Ranging through Nature on erratic wing —
These do I honour — and would fondly try
With thee a wild aerial strain to sing :
Then, O ! round Shepherd's head thy charmed mantle fling.