Joseph Denis Odevaere, Lord Byron on His Deathbed, 1826.
Roll on, thou deep and dark blue Ocean – roll! Ten thousand fleets sweep over thee in vain; Man marks the earth with ruin – his control Stops with the shore; – upon the watery plain The wrecks are all thy deed, not does remain A shadow of man’s ravage, save his own, When for a moment, like a drop of rain, He sinks into thy depths with bubbling groan, Without a grave, unknell’d, uncoffin’d, and unknown.
—George Gordon Byron, from Childe Harold’s Pilgrimage, canto II
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