Soothed by the screaming anguish of his prey,
And rocked by tempests, slumbers in his joy.
Thou, Byron, like this brigand of the air,
In cries of woe dost sweetest music find.
Thy scene is evil, and thy victim man.
Like Satan, thou hast measured the abyss,
And plunging down, far, far from day and God,
Hast bid to hope farewell for evermore!
Like him, now reigning in the realms of gloom,
Thy dauntless genius swells funereal strains;