Poem by George Gordon Byron

To E——

Let Folly smile, to view the names
⁠     Of thee and me, in Friendship twin'd;
Yet Virtue will have greater claims
⁠     To love, than rank with vice combin'd.

And though unequal is thy fate,
⁠     Since title deck'd my higher birth;
Yet envy not this gaudy state,
⁠     Thine is the pride of modest worth.

Our souls at least congenial meet,
⁠     Nor can thy lot my rank disgrace;
Our intercourse is not less sweet,
⁠     Since worth of rank supplies the place. 

1. Churchill’s Grave
2. On a Change of Masters at a Great Public School
3. To the Earl of Clare
4. Lines Addressed to a Young Lady
5. Reply to some Verses of J. M. B. Pigot, Esq., on the Cruelty of his Mistress

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