Titles exalt, but cannot give renown, From rank alone, no man can truly shine; The ray of genius springs from mind alone, And only that defies the hand of time.
Was each mind equal in this state of things, And every mortal emulous of fame; Byron's bold thoughts borne on Apollo's wings, Would, from their beauties, gild their master's name.
Accept then, Byron, from an humble pen, Another laurel round thy form to wave: Titles and wealth are soon forgot by men, The works of genius live beyond the grave.
