"Venice once was dear, The pleasant place of all festivity, The revel of the earth, the masque of Italy."

Childe Harold's Pilgrimage. Canto iv. Stanza 3.

"The thorns which I have reap'd are of the tree I planted; they have torn me, and I bleed. I should have known what fruit would spring from such a seed."

Childe Harold's Pilgrimage. Canto iv. Stanza 10.

"Oh for one hour of blind old Dandolo, The octogenarian chief, Byzantium's conquering foe!"

Childe Harold's Pilgrimage. Canto iv. Stanza 12.

"There are some feelings time cannot benumb, Nor torture shake."

Childe Harold's Pilgrimage. Canto iv. Stanza 19.

"Striking the electric chain wherewith we are darkly bound."

Childe Harold's Pilgrimage. Canto iv. Stanza 23.

"The cold, the changed, perchance the dead, anew, The mourn'd, the loved, the lost,--too many, yet how few!"

Childe Harold's Pilgrimage. Canto iv. Stanza 24.

"Parting day Dies like the dolphin, whom each pang imbues With a new colour as it gasps away, The last still loveliest, till--'t is gone, and all is gray."

Childe Harold's Pilgrimage. Canto iv. Stanza 29.

"The Ariosto of the North."

Childe Harold's Pilgrimage. Canto iv. Stanza 40.

"Italia! O Italia! thou who hast The fatal gift of beauty."

Childe Harold's Pilgrimage. Canto iv. Stanza 42.

"Fills The air around with beauty."

Childe Harold's Pilgrimage. Canto iv. Stanza 49.

"Let these describe the undescribable."

Childe Harold's Pilgrimage. Canto iv. Stanza 53.

"The starry Galileo with his woes."

Childe Harold's Pilgrimage. Canto iv. Stanza 54.

"Ungrateful Florence! Dante sleeps afar, Like Scipio, buried by the upbraiding shore."

Childe Harold's Pilgrimage. Canto iv. Stanza 57.

"The poetry of speech."

Childe Harold's Pilgrimage. Canto iv. Stanza 58.

"The hell of waters! where they howl and hiss, And boil in endless torture."

Childe Harold's Pilgrimage. Canto iv. Stanza 69.

"Then farewell Horace, whom I hated so,-- Not for thy faults, but mine."

Childe Harold's Pilgrimage. Canto iv. Stanza 77.

"O Rome! my country! city of the soul!"

Childe Harold's Pilgrimage. Canto iv. Stanza 78.

"The Niobe of nations! there she stands."

Childe Harold's Pilgrimage. Canto iv. Stanza 79.

"Yet, Freedom! yet thy banner, torn, but flying, Streams like the thunder-storm against the wind."

Childe Harold's Pilgrimage. Canto iv. Stanza 98.

"Heaven gives its favourites--early death."

Childe Harold's Pilgrimage. Canto iv. Stanza 102.

"History, with all her volumes vast, Hath but one page."

Childe Harold's Pilgrimage. Canto iv. Stanza 108.

"Man! Thou pendulum betwixt a smile and tear."

Childe Harold's Pilgrimage. Canto iv. Stanza 109.

"Tully was not so eloquent as thou, Thou nameless column with the buried base."

Childe Harold's Pilgrimage. Canto iv. Stanza 110.

"Egeria! sweet creation of some heart Which found no mortal resting-place so fair As thine ideal breast."

Childe Harold's Pilgrimage. Canto iv. Stanza 115.

"The nympholepsy of some fond despair."

Childe Harold's Pilgrimage. Canto iv. Stanza 115.

"Thou wert a beautiful thought, and softly bodied forth."

Childe Harold's Pilgrimage. Canto iv. Stanza 115.

"Alas! our young affections run to waste, Or water but the desert."

Childe Harold's Pilgrimage. Canto iv. Stanza 120.

"I see before me the gladiator lie."

Childe Harold's Pilgrimage. Canto iv. Stanza 140.

"There were his young barbarians all at play; There was their Dacian mother: he, their sire, Butcher'd to make a Roman holiday!"

Childe Harold's Pilgrimage. Canto iv. Stanza 141.

""While stands the Coliseum, Rome shall stand; When falls the Coliseum, Rome shall fall; And when Rome falls--the world.""

Childe Harold's Pilgrimage. Canto iv. Stanza 145.

"Scion of chiefs and monarchs, where art thou? Fond hope of many nations, art thou dead? Could not the grave forget thee, and lay low Some less majestic, less beloved head?"

Childe Harold's Pilgrimage. Canto iv. Stanza 168.

"Oh that the desert were my dwelling-place, With one fair spirit for my minister, That I might all forget the human race, And hating no one, love but only her!"

Childe Harold's Pilgrimage. Canto iv. Stanza 177.

"There is a pleasure in the pathless woods; There is a rapture on the lonely shore; There is society, where none intrudes, By the deep sea, and music in its roar: I love not man the less, but Nature more."

Childe Harold's Pilgrimage. Canto iv. Stanza 178.

"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."

Childe Harold's Pilgrimage. Canto iv. Stanza 179.

"He sinks into thy depths with bubbling groan, Without a grave, unknell'd, uncoffin'd, and unknown."

Childe Harold's Pilgrimage. Canto iv. Stanza 179.

"Time writes no wrinkle on thine azure brow,-- Such as creation's dawn beheld, thou rollest now."

Childe Harold's Pilgrimage. Canto iv. Stanza 182.

"Thou glorious mirror, where the Almighty's form Glasses itself in tempests."

Childe Harold's Pilgrimage. Canto iv. Stanza 183.

"And I have loved thee, Ocean! and my joy Of youthful sports was on thy breast to be Borne, like thy bubbles, onward; from a boy I wantoned with thy breakers, . . . . . And trusted to thy billows far and near, And laid my hand upon thy mane,--as I do here."

Childe Harold's Pilgrimage. Canto iv. Stanza 184.

"And what is writ is writ,-- Would it were worthier!"

Childe Harold's Pilgrimage. Canto iv. Stanza 185.

"Farewell! a word that must be, and hath been,-- A sound which makes us linger; yet--farewell!"

Childe Harold's Pilgrimage. Canto iv. Stanza 186.

"Hands promiscuously applied, Round the slight waist, or down the glowing side."

The Waltz.

"He who hath bent him o'er the dead Ere the first day of death is fled,-- The first dark day of nothingness, The last of danger and distress, Before decay's effacing fingers Have swept the lines where beauty lingers."

The Giaour. Line 68.

"Such is the aspect of this shore; 'T is Greece, but living Greece no more! So coldly sweet, so deadly fair, We start, for soul is wanting there."

The Giaour. Line 90.

"Shrine of the mighty! can it be That this is all remains of thee?"

The Giaour. Line 106.

"For freedom's battle, once begun, Bequeath'd by bleeding sire to son, Though baffled oft, is ever won."

The Giaour. Line 123.

"And lovelier things have mercy shown To every failing but their own; And every woe a tear can claim, Except an erring sister's shame."

The Giaour. Line 418.

"The keenest pangs the wretched find Are rapture to the dreary void, The leafless desert of the mind, The waste of feelings unemployed."

The Giaour. Line 957.

"Better to sink beneath the shock Than moulder piecemeal on the rock."

The Giaour. Line 969.

"The cold in clime are cold in blood, Their love can scarce deserve the name."

The Giaour. Line 1099.

"I die,--but first I have possess'd, And come what may, I have been bless'd."

The Giaour. Line 1114.