Lord Byron on Mutiny on the Bounty

“But Christian, of a higher order, stood Like an extinct volcano in his mood; Silent, and sad, and savage, – with the trace Of passion reeking from his clouded face.”

“Their sea-green isle, their guilt-won Paradise, No more could shield their Virtue or their Vice: Their better feelings, if such were, were thrown Back on themselves, – their sins remained alone. Proscribed even in their second country, they Were lost.”

“Fiercely beside thy cot the mutineer Stands, and proclaims the reign of rage and fear. Thy limbs are bound, the bayonet at thy breast; The hands, which trembled at thy voice, arrest; Dragged o’er the deck, no more at thy command The obedient helm shall veer, the sail expand.”

“The gallant Chief within his cabin slept, Secure in those by whom the watch was kept: His dreams were of old England’s welcome shore, Of toils rewarded, and of danger o’er; ... The worst was over, and the rest seemed sure, And why should not his slumber be secure? Alas! his deck was trod by unwilling feet, And wilder hands would hold the vessel’s sheet; Young hearts, which languished for some sunny isle, Where summer years and summer women smile; Men without country, who, too long estranged, Had found no native home, or found it changed, And, half uncivilised, preferred the cave Of some soft savage to the uncertain wave –”