To Lord Byron The idea of a god has fled, In whose existence I believed; What was he once, do we now need? And shall we wait till day shall shed Upon the world, a sun bereaved:

No torch of stars can fight the gloom; A lifetime grows for each of man, And though I may have felt affright, Nor thought of the eternal boon; But there is hope herein that stays;

I think we cast our souls Beyond where simple shadows fly; And seek the skies unending, For grander tales of victory.

• Lord Byron