Poem by George Gordon Byron

The Charity Ball

What matter the pangs of a husband and father,
If his sorrows in exile be great or be small,
So the Pharisee's glories around her she gather,
And the saint patronizes her 'charity ball!'

What matters--a heart which, though faulty, was feeling,
Be driven to excesses which once could appal--
That the sinner should suffer is only fair dealing,
As the saint keeps her charity back for 'the ball'! 

1. Epitaph
2. Churchill’s Grave
3. On a Change of Masters at a Great Public School
4. Lines Addressed to a Young Lady
5. To the Earl of Clare

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