Remember thee! remember thee!
Till Lethe quench life's burning stream
Remorse and shame shall cling to thee,
And haunt thee like a feverish dream!
Remember thee! Aye, doubt it not.
Thy husband too shall think of thee:
By neither shalt thou be forgot,
Thou false to him, thou fiend to me!
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Have you no shame, my Lord?
Byron seems so well aware of his own rakish soul, and writes without 'remorse and shame' of himself. He seems almost to revel in the debauchery here, and feels superior enough to cast aspersions on his unfaithful partner in passion. I still love his writing. It's brutally honest.
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