Reference > Quotations > John Bartlett, comp. > Familiar Quotations, 10th ed. > George Gordon Noel Byron, Lord Byron
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John Bartlett (1820–1905).  Familiar Quotations, 10th ed.  1919.
 
George Gordon Noel Byron, Lord Byron. (1788–1824)
 
 
1
    Farewell! if ever fondest prayer
  For other’s weal avail’d on high,
Mine will not all be lost in air,
  But waft thy name beyond the sky.
          Farewell! if ever fondest Prayer.
2
    I only know we loved in vain;
  I only feel—farewell! farewell!
          Farewell! if ever fondest Prayer.
3
    When we two parted
  In silence and tears,
Half broken-hearted,
  To sever for years.
          When we Two parted.
4
    Fools are my theme, let satire be my song.
          English Bards and Scotch Reviewers. Line 6.
5
    ’T is pleasant, sure, to see one’s name in print;
A book ’s a book, although there ’s nothing in ’t.
          English Bards and Scotch Reviewers. Line 51.
6
    With just enough of learning to misquote.
          English Bards and Scotch Reviewers. Line 66.
7
    As soon
Seek roses in December, ice in June;
Hope constancy in wind, or corn in chaff;
Believe a woman or an epitaph,
Or any other thing that ’s false, before
You trust in critics.
          English Bards and Scotch Reviewers. Line 75.
8
    Perverts the Prophets and purloins the Psalms.
          English Bards and Scotch Reviewers. Line 326.
9
    Oh, Amos Cottle! Phœbus! what a name!
          English Bards and Scotch Reviewers. Line 399.
10
    So the struck eagle, stretch’d upon the plain,
No more through rolling clouds to soar again,
View’d his own feather on the fatal dart,
And wing’d the shaft that quiver’d in his heart. 1
          English Bards and Scotch Reviewers. Line 826.
11
    Yet truth will sometimes lend her noblest fires,
And decorate the verse herself inspires:
This fact, in virtue’s name, let Crabbe attest,—
Though Nature’s sternest painter, yet the best.
          English Bards and Scotch Reviewers. Line 839.
12
    Maid of Athens, ere we part,
Give, oh give me back my heart!
          Maid of Athens.
13
    Had sigh’d to many, though he loved but one.
          Childe Harold’s Pilgrimage, Canto i. Stanza 5.
14
    If ancient tales say true, nor wrong these holy men.
          Childe Harold’s Pilgrimage, Canto i. Stanza 7.
15
    Maidens, like moths, are ever caught by glare,
And Mammon wins his way where seraphs might despair.
          Childe Harold’s Pilgrimage, Canto i. Stanza 9.
16
    Such partings break the heart they fondly hope to heal.
          Childe Harold’s Pilgrimage, Canto i. Stanza 10.
17
    Might shake the saintship of an anchorite.
          Childe Harold’s Pilgrimage, Canto i. Stanza 11.
18
    Adieu! adieu! my native shore
Fades o’er the waters blue.
          Childe Harold’s Pilgrimage, Canto i. Stanza 13.
19
    My native land, good night!
          Childe Harold’s Pilgrimage, Canto i. Stanza 13.
20
    O Christ! it is a goodly sight to see
What Heaven hath done for this delicious land.
          Childe Harold’s Pilgrimage, Canto i. Stanza 15.
21
    In hope to merit heaven by making earth a hell.
          Childe Harold’s Pilgrimage, Canto i. Stanza 20.
22
    By Heaven! it is a splendid sight to see
For one who hath no friend, no brother there.
          Childe Harold’s Pilgrimage, Canto i. Stanza 40.
23
    Still from the fount of joy’s delicious springs
Some bitter o’er the flowers its bubbling venom flings. 2
          Childe Harold’s Pilgrimage, Canto i. Stanza 82.
24
    War, war is still the cry,—“war even to the knife!” 3
          Childe Harold’s Pilgrimage, Canto i. Stanza 86.
25
    Gone, glimmering through the dream of things that were.
          Childe Harold’s Pilgrimage, Canto ii. Stanza 2.
26
    A schoolboy’s tale, the wonder of an hour!
          Childe Harold’s Pilgrimage, Canto ii. Stanza 2.
27
    Dim with the mist of years, gray flits the shade of power.
          Childe Harold’s Pilgrimage, Canto ii. Stanza 2.
28
    The dome of thought, the palace of the soul. 4
          Childe Harold’s Pilgrimage, Canto ii. Stanza 6.
29
    Ah, happy years! once more who would not be a boy?
          Childe Harold’s Pilgrimage, Canto ii. Stanza 23.
30
    None are so desolate but something dear,
Dearer than self, possesses or possess’d
A thought, and claims the homage of a tear.
          Childe Harold’s Pilgrimage, Canto ii. Stanza 24.
31
    But ’midst the crowd, the hum, the shock of men,
To hear, to see, to feel, and to possess,
And roam along, the world’s tired denizen,
With none who bless us, none whom we can bless.
          Childe Harold’s Pilgrimage, Canto ii. Stanza 26.
32
    Coop’d in their winged, sea-girt citadel.
          Childe Harold’s Pilgrimage, Canto ii. Stanza 28.
33
    Fair Greece! sad relic of departed worth!
Immortal, though no more! though fallen, great!
          Childe Harold’s Pilgrimage, Canto ii. Stanza 73.
34
    Hereditary bondsmen! know ye not,
Who would be free, themselves must strike the blow?
          Childe Harold’s Pilgrimage, Canto ii. Stanza 76.
35
    A thousand years scarce serve to form a state:
An hour may lay it in the dust.
          Childe Harold’s Pilgrimage, Canto ii. Stanza 84.
36
    Land of lost gods and godlike men.
          Childe Harold’s Pilgrimage, Canto ii. Stanza 85.
37
    Where’er we tread, ’t is haunted, holy ground.
          Childe Harold’s Pilgrimage, Canto ii. Stanza 88.
38
    Age shakes Athena’s tower, but spares gray Marathon.
          Childe Harold’s Pilgrimage, Canto ii. Stanza 88.
39
    Ada! sole daughter of my house and heart.
          Childe Harold’s Pilgrimage, Canto iii. Stanza 1.
40
    Once more upon the waters! yet once more!
And the waves bound beneath me as a steed
That knows his rider.
          Childe Harold’s Pilgrimage, Canto iii. Stanza 2.
41
    I am as a weed
Flung from the rock, on Ocean’s foam to sail
Where’er the surge may sweep, the tempest’s breath prevail.
          Childe Harold’s Pilgrimage, Canto iii. Stanza 2.
42
    He who grown aged in this world of woe,
In deeds, not years, piercing the depths of life, 5
So that no wonder waits him.
          Childe Harold’s Pilgrimage, Canto iii. Stanza 5.
43
    Years steal
Fire from the mind as vigour from the limb,
And life’s enchanted cup but sparkles near the brim.
          Childe Harold’s Pilgrimage, Canto iii. Stanza 8.
44
    There was a sound of revelry by night,
And Belgium’s capital had gather’d then
Her beauty and her chivalry, and bright
The lamps shone o’er fair women and brave men.
A thousand hearts beat happily; and when
Music arose with its voluptuous swell,
Soft eyes look’d love to eyes which spake again,
And all went merry as a marriage bell.
          Childe Harold’s Pilgrimage, Canto iii. Stanza 21.
45
    But hush! hark! a deep sound strikes like a rising knell!
Did ye not hear it?—No! ’t was but the wind,
Or the car rattling o’er the stony street.
On with the dance! let joy be unconfined;
No sleep till morn, when Youth and Pleasure meet
To chase the glowing hours with flying feet.
          Childe Harold’s Pilgrimage, Canto iii. Stanza 22.
46
    He rush’d into the field, and foremost fighting fell.
          Childe Harold’s Pilgrimage, Canto iii. Stanza 23.
47
    And there was mounting in hot haste.
          Childe Harold’s Pilgrimage, Canto iii. Stanza 25.
48
    Or whispering with white lips, “The foe! They come! they come!”
          Childe Harold’s Pilgrimage, Canto iii. Stanza 25.
49
    Grieving, if aught inanimate e’er grieves,
Over the unreturning brave.
          Childe Harold’s Pilgrimage, Canto iii. Stanza 27.
50
    Battle’s magnificently stern array.
          Childe Harold’s Pilgrimage, Canto iii. Stanza 28.
51
    And thus the heart will break, yet brokenly live on.
          Childe Harold’s Pilgrimage, Canto iii. Stanza 32.
52
    But quiet to quick bosoms is a hell.
          Childe Harold’s Pilgrimage, Canto iii. Stanza 42.
53
    He who ascends to mountain-tops shall find
The loftiest peaks most wrapt in clouds and snow;
He who surpasses or subdues mankind
Must look down on the hate of those below.
          Childe Harold’s Pilgrimage, Canto iii. Stanza 45.
54
    All tenantless, save to the crannying wind.
          Childe Harold’s Pilgrimage, Canto iii. Stanza 47.
55
    The castled crag of Drachenfels
Frowns o’er the wide and winding Rhine.
          Childe Harold’s Pilgrimage, Canto iii. Stanza 55.
56
    He had kept
The whiteness of his soul, and thus men o’er him wept.
          Childe Harold’s Pilgrimage, Canto iii. Stanza 57.
57
    But there are wanderers o’er Eternity
Whose bark drives on and on, and anchor’d ne’er shall be.
          Childe Harold’s Pilgrimage, Canto iii. Stanza 70.
58
    By the blue rushing of the arrowy Rhone.
          Childe Harold’s Pilgrimage, Canto iii. Stanza 71.
59
    I live not in myself, but I become
Portion of that around me; 6 and to me
High mountains are a feeling, but the hum
Of human cities torture.
          Childe Harold’s Pilgrimage, Canto iii. Stanza 72.
60
    This quiet sail is as a noiseless wing
To waft me from distraction.
          Childe Harold’s Pilgrimage, Canto iii. Stanza 85.
61
    On the ear
Drops the light drip of the suspended oar.
          Childe Harold’s Pilgrimage, Canto iii. Stanza 86.
62
    All is concentr’d in a life intense,
Where not a beam, nor air, nor leaf is lost,
But hath a part of being.
          Childe Harold’s Pilgrimage, Canto iii. Stanza 89.
63
    In solitude, where we are least alone. 7
          Childe Harold’s Pilgrimage, Canto iii. Stanza 90.
64
    The sky is changed,—and such a change! O night
And storm and darkness! ye are wondrous strong,
Yet lovely in your strength, as is the light
Of a dark eye in woman! Far along,
From peak to peak, the rattling crags among,
Leaps the live thunder.
          Childe Harold’s Pilgrimage, Canto iii. Stanza 92.
65
    Exhausting thought,
And hiving wisdom with each studious year.
          Childe Harold’s Pilgrimage, Canto iii. Stanza 107.
66
    Sapping a solemn creed with solemn sneer.
          Childe Harold’s Pilgrimage, Canto iii. Stanza 107.
67
    I have not loved the world, nor the world me. 8
          Childe Harold’s Pilgrimage, Canto iii. Stanza 113.
68
    I stood
Among them, but not of them; in a shroud
Of thoughts which were not their thoughts.
          Childe Harold’s Pilgrimage, Canto iii. Stanza 113.
69
    I stood in Venice on the Bridge of Sighs,
A palace and a prison on each hand.
          Childe Harold’s Pilgrimage, Canto iv. Stanza 1.
70
    Where Venice sate in state, throned on her hundred isles.
          Childe Harold’s Pilgrimage, Canto iv. Stanza 1.
71
    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.
72
    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.
73
    Oh for one hour of blind old Dandolo,
The octogenarian chief, Byzantium’s conquering foe! 9
          Childe Harold’s Pilgrimage, Canto iv. Stanza 12.
74
    There are some feelings time cannot benumb,
Nor torture shake.
          Childe Harold’s Pilgrimage, Canto iv. Stanza 19.
75
    Striking the electric chain wherewith we are darkly bound.
          Childe Harold’s Pilgrimage, Canto iv. Stanza 23.
76
    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.
77
    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.
78
    The Ariosto of the North.
          Childe Harold’s Pilgrimage, Canto iv. Stanza 40.
79
    Italia! O Italia! thou who hast
The fatal gift of beauty. 10
          Childe Harold’s Pilgrimage, Canto iv. Stanza 42.
80
    Fills
The air around with beauty.
          Childe Harold’s Pilgrimage, Canto iv. Stanza 49.
81
    Let these describe the undescribable.
          Childe Harold’s Pilgrimage, Canto iv. Stanza 53.
82
    The starry Galileo with his woes.
          Childe Harold’s Pilgrimage, Canto iv. Stanza 54.
83
    Ungrateful Florence! Dante sleeps afar,
Like Scipio, buried by the upbraiding shore.
          Childe Harold’s Pilgrimage, Canto iv. Stanza 57.
84
    The poetry of speech.
          Childe Harold’s Pilgrimage, Canto iv. Stanza 58.
85
    The hell of waters! where they howl and hiss,
And boil in endless torture.
          Childe Harold’s Pilgrimage, Canto iv. Stanza 69.
86
    Then farewell Horace, whom I hated so,—
Not for thy faults, but mine.
          Childe Harold’s Pilgrimage, Canto iv. Stanza 77.
87
    O Rome! my country! city of the soul!
          Childe Harold’s Pilgrimage, Canto iv. Stanza 78.
88
    The Niobe of nations! there she stands.
          Childe Harold’s Pilgrimage, Canto iv. Stanza 79.
89
    Yet, Freedom! yet thy banner, torn, but flying,
Streams like the thunder-storm against the wind.
          Childe Harold’s Pilgrimage, Canto iv. Stanza 98.
90
    Heaven gives its favourites—early death. 11
          Childe Harold’s Pilgrimage, Canto iv. Stanza 102.
91
    History, with all her volumes vast,
Hath but one page.
          Childe Harold’s Pilgrimage, Canto iv. Stanza 108.
92
    Man!
Thou pendulum betwixt a smile and tear.
          Childe Harold’s Pilgrimage, Canto iv. Stanza 109.
93
    Tully was not so eloquent as thou,
Thou nameless column with the buried base.
          Childe Harold’s Pilgrimage, Canto iv. Stanza 110.
94
    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.
95
    The nympholepsy of some fond despair.
          Childe Harold’s Pilgrimage, Canto iv. Stanza 115.
96
    Thou wert a beautiful thought, and softly bodied forth.
          Childe Harold’s Pilgrimage, Canto iv. Stanza 115.
97
    Alas! our young affections run to waste,
Or water but the desert.
          Childe Harold’s Pilgrimage, Canto iv. Stanza 120.
98
    I see before me the gladiator lie.
          Childe Harold’s Pilgrimage, Canto iv. Stanza 140.
99
    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.
100
    “While stands the Coliseum, Rome shall stand;
When falls the Coliseum, Rome shall fall;
And when Rome falls—the world.” 12
          Childe Harold’s Pilgrimage, Canto iv. Stanza 145.
101
    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.
102
    Oh that the desert were my dwelling-place, 13
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.
103
    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.
104
    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.
105
    He sinks into thy depths with bubbling groan,
Without a grave, unknell’d, uncoffin’d, and unknown. 14
          Childe Harold’s Pilgrimage, Canto iv. Stanza 179.
106
    Time writes no wrinkle on thine azure brow,—
Such as creation’s dawn beheld, thou rollest now. 15
          Childe Harold’s Pilgrimage, Canto iv. Stanza 182.
107
    Thou glorious mirror, where the Almighty’s form
Glasses itself in tempests.
          Childe Harold’s Pilgrimage, Canto iv. Stanza 183.
108
    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. 16
          Childe Harold’s Pilgrimage, Canto iv. Stanza 184.
109
    And what is writ is writ,—
Would it were worthier!
          Childe Harold’s Pilgrimage, Canto iv. Stanza 185.
110
    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.
111
    Hands promiscuously applied,
Round the slight waist, or down the glowing side.
          The Waltz.
112
    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.
113
    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.
114
    Shrine of the mighty! can it be
That this is all remains of thee?
          The Giaour. Line 106.
115
    For freedom’s battle, once begun,
Bequeath’d by bleeding sire to son,
Though baffled oft, is ever won.
          The Giaour. Line 123.
116
    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.
117
    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.
118
    Better to sink beneath the shock
Than moulder piecemeal on the rock.
          The Giaour. Line 969.
119
    The cold in clime are cold in blood,
  Their love can scarce deserve the name.
          The Giaour. Line 1099.
120
    I die,—but first I have possess’d,
And come what may, I have been bless’d.
          The Giaour. Line 1114.
121
    She was a form of life and light
That seen, became a part of sight,
And rose, where’er I turn’d mine eye,
The morning-star of memory!
Yes, love indeed is light from heaven;
  A spark of that immortal fire
With angels shared, by Alla given,
  To lift from earth our low desire.
          The Giaour. Line 1127.
122
    Know ye the land where the cypress and myrtle
  Are emblems of deeds that are done in their clime;
Where the rage of the vulture, the love of the turtle,
  Now melt into sorrow, now madden to crime? 17
          The Bride of Abydos. Canto i. Stanza 1.
123
    Where the virgins are soft as the roses they twine,
And all save the spirit of man is divine?
          The Bride of Abydos. Canto i. Stanza 1.
124
    Who hath not proved how feebly words essay
To fix one spark of beauty’s heavenly ray?
Who doth not feel, until his failing sight
Faints into dimness with its own delight,
His changing cheek, his sinking heart, confess
The might, the majesty of loveliness?
          The Bride of Abydos. Canto i. Stanza 6.
125
    The light of love, 18 the purity of grace,
The mind, the music breathing from her face, 19
The heart whose softness harmonized the whole,—
And oh, that eye was in itself a soul!
          The Bride of Abydos. Canto i. Stanza 6.
126
    The blind old man of Scio’s rocky isle.
          The Bride of Abydos. Canto i. Canto ii. Stanza 2.
127
    Be thou the rainbow to the storms of life,
The evening beam that smiles the clouds away,
And tints to-morrow with prophetic ray!
          The Bride of Abydos. Canto i. Canto ii. Stanza 20.
128
    He makes a solitude, and calls it—peace! 20
          The Bride of Abydos. Canto i. Canto ii. Stanza 20.
129
    Hark! to the hurried question of despair:
“Where is my child?”—an echo answers, “Where? 21
          The Bride of Abydos. Canto i. Canto ii. Stanza 27.
130
    The fatal facility of the octosyllabic verse.
          The Corsair. Preface.
131
    O’er the glad waters of the dark blue sea,
Our thoughts as boundless, and our souls as free,
Far as the breeze can bear, the billows foam, 22
Survey our empire, and behold our home!
These are our realms, no limit to their sway,—
Our flag the sceptre all who meet obey.
          The Corsair. Canto i. Stanza 1.
132
    Oh who can tell, save he whose heart hath tried.
          The Corsair. Canto i. Stanza 1.
133
    She walks the waters like a thing of life,
And seems to dare the elements to strife.
          The Corsair. Canto i. Stanza 3.
134
    The power of thought,—the magic of the mind!
          The Corsair. Canto i. Stanza 8.
135
    The many still must labour for the one.
          The Corsair. Canto i. Stanza 8.
136
    There was a laughing devil in his sneer.
          The Corsair. Canto i. Stanza 9.
137
    Hope withering fled, and Mercy sighed farewell!
          The Corsair. Canto i. Stanza 9.
138
    Farewell!
For in that word, that fatal word,—howe’er
We promise, hope, believe,—there breathes despair.
          The Corsair. Canto i. Stanza 15.
139
    No words suffice the secret soul to show,
For truth denies all eloquence to woe.
          The Corsair. Canto iii. Stanza 22.
140
    He left a corsair’s name to other times,
Link’d with one virtue and a thousand crimes. 23
          The Corsair. Canto iii. Stanza 24.
141
    Lord of himself,—that heritage of woe!
          Lara. Canto i. Stanza 2.
142
    She walks in beauty, like the night
  Of cloudless climes and starry skies;
And all that ’s best of dark and bright
  Meet in her aspect and her eyes;
Thus mellow’d to that tender light
  Which Heaven to gaudy day denies. 24
          Hebrew Melodies. She walks in Beauty.
143
    The Assyrian came down like the wolf on the fold,
And his cohorts were gleaming in purple and gold.
          The Destruction of Sennacherib.
144
    It is the hour when from the boughs
  The nightingale’s high note is heard;
It is the hour when lovers’ vows
  Seem sweet in every whisper’d word.
          Parisina. Stanza 1.
145
    Yet in my lineaments they trace
Some features of my father’s face.
          Parisina. Stanza 13.
146
    Fare thee well! and if forever,
  Still forever fare thee well.
          Fare thee well.
147
    Born in the garret, in the kitchen bred. 25
          A Sketch.
148
    In the desert a fountain is springing,
  In the wide waste there still is a tree,
And a bird in the solitude singing,
  Which speaks to my spirit of thee.
          Stanzas to Augusta.
149
    The careful pilot of my proper woe.
          Epistle to Augusta. Stanza 3.
150
    When all of genius which can perish dies.
          Monody on the Death of Sheridan. Line 22.
151
    Folly loves the martyrdom of fame.
          Monody on the Death of Sheridan. Line 68.
152
    Who track the steps of glory to the grave.
          Monody on the Death of Sheridan. Line 74.
153
    Sighing that Nature form’d but one such man,
And broke the die, in moulding Sheridan. 26
          Monody on the Death of Sheridan. Line 117.
154
    O God! it is a fearful thing
To see the human soul take wing
In any shape, in any mood.
          Prisoner of Chillon. Stanza 8.
155
    And both were young, and one was beautiful.
          The Dream. Stanza 2.
156
    And to his eye
There was but one beloved face on earth,
And that was shining on him.
          The Dream. Stanza 2.
157
    She was his life,
The ocean to the river of his thoughts, 27
Which terminated all.
          The Dream. Stanza 2.
158
    A change came o’er the spirit of my dream.
          The Dream. Stanza 3.
159
    And they were canopied by the blue sky,
So cloudless, clear, and purely beautiful
That God alone was to be seen in heaven.
          The Dream. Stanza 4.
160
    There ’s not a joy the world can give like that it takes away.
          Stanzas for Music.
161
    I had a dream which was not all a dream.
          Darkness.
162
    My boat is on the shore,
  And my bark is on the sea;
But before I go, Tom Moore,
  Here ’s a double health to thee!
          To Thomas Moore.
163
    Here ’s a sigh to those who love me,
  And a smile to those who hate;
And whatever sky ’s above me,
  Here ’s a heart for every fate. 28
          To Thomas Moore.
164
    Were ’t the last drop in the well,
  As I gasp’d upon the brink,
Ere my fainting spirit fell
  ’T is to thee that I would drink.
          To Thomas Moore.
165
    So we ’ll go no more a-roving
  So late into the night.
          So we ’ll go.
166
    Mont Blanc is the monarch of mountains;
  They crowned him long ago
On a throne of rocks, in a robe of clouds,
  With a diadem of snow.
          Manfred. Act i. Sc. 1.
167
    But we, who name ourselves its sovereigns, we,
Half dust, half deity, alike unfit
To sink or soar.
          Manfred. Act i. Sc. 2.
168
    Think’st thou existence doth depend on time?
It doth; but actions are our epochs.
          Manfred. Act ii. Sc. 1.
169
    The heart ran o’er
With silent worship of the great of old!
The dead but sceptred sovereigns, who still rule
Our spirits from their urns.
          Manfred. Act iii. Sc. 4.
170
    Which makes life itself a lie,
Flattering dust with eternity.
          Sardanapalus. Act i. Sc. 2.
171
    By all that ’s good and glorious.
          Sardanapalus. Act i. Sc. 2.
172
    I am the very slave of circumstance
And impulse,—borne away with every breath!
          Sardanapalus. Act iv. Sc. 1.
173
    The dust we tread upon was once alive.
          Sardanapalus. Act iv. Sc. 1.
174
    For most men (till by losing rendered sager)
Will back their own opinions by a wager.
          Beppo. Stanza 27.
175
    Soprano, basso, even the contra-alto,
Wished him five fathom under the Rialto.
          Beppo. Stanza 32.
176
    His heart was one of those which most enamour us,—
Wax to receive, and marble to retain. 29
          Beppo. Stanza 34.
177
    Besides, they always smell of bread and butter.
          Beppo. Stanza 39.
178
    That soft bastard Latin,
Which melts like kisses from a female mouth.
          Beppo. Stanza 44.
179
    Heart on her lips, and soul within her eyes,
Soft as her clime, and sunny as her skies.
          Beppo. Stanza 45.
180
    O Mirth and Innocence! O milk and water!
Ye happy mixtures of more happy days.
          Beppo. Stanza 80.
181
    And if we do but watch the hour,
There never yet was human power
Which could evade, if unforgiven,
The patient search and vigil long
Of him who treasures up a wrong.
          Mazeppa. Stanza 10.
182
    They never fail who die
In a great cause.
          Marino Faliero. Act ii. Sc. 2.
183
    Whose game was empires and whose stakes were thrones,
Whose table earth, whose dice were human bones.
          Age of Bronze. Stanza 3.
184
    I loved my country, and I hated him.
          The Vision of Judgment. lxxxiii.
185
    Sublime tobacco! which from east to west
Cheers the tar’s labour or the Turkman’s rest.
          The Island. Canto ii. Stanza 19.
186
    Divine in hookas, glorious in a pipe
When tipp’d with amber, mellow, rich, and ripe;
Like other charmers, wooing the caress
More dazzlingly when daring in full dress;
Yet thy true lovers more admire by far
Thy naked beauties—give me a cigar!
          The Island. Canto ii. Stanza 19.
187
    My days are in the yellow leaf;
  The flowers and fruits of love are gone;
The worm, the canker, and the grief
  Are mine alone!
          On my Thirty-sixth Year.
188
    Brave men were living before Agamemnon. 30
          Don Juan. Canto i. Stanza 5.
189
    In virtues nothing earthly could surpass her,
Save thine “incomparable oil,” Macassar!
          Don Juan. Canto i. Stanza 17.
190
    But, oh ye lords of ladies intellectual,
Inform us truly,—have they not henpeck’d you all?
          Don Juan. Canto i. Stanza 22.
191
    The languages, especially the dead,
  The sciences, and most of all the abstruse,
The arts, at least all such as could be said
  To be the most remote from common use.
          Don Juan. Canto i. Stanza 40.
192
    Her stature tall,—I hate a dumpy woman.
          Don Juan. Canto i. Stanza 61.
193
    Christians have burnt each other, quite persuaded
That all the Apostles would have done as they did.
          Don Juan. Canto i. Stanza 83.
194
    And whispering, “I will ne’er consent,”—consented.
          Don Juan. Canto i. Stanza 117.
195
    ’T is sweet to hear the watch-dog’s honest bark
  Bay deep-mouth’d welcome as we draw near home;
’T is sweet to know there is an eye will mark
  Our coming, and look brighter when we come.
          Don Juan. Canto i. Stanza 123.
196
    Sweet is revenge—especially to women.
          Don Juan. Canto i. Stanza 124.
197
    And truant husband should return, and say,
“My dear, I was the first who came away.”
          Don Juan. Canto i. Stanza 141.
198
    Man’s love is of man’s life a thing apart;
’T is woman’s whole existence.
          Don Juan. Canto i. Stanza 194.
199
    In my hot youth, when George the Third was king.
          Don Juan. Canto i. Stanza 212.
200
    So for a good old-gentlemanly vice
I think I must take up with avarice. 31
          Don Juan. Canto i. Stanza 216.
201
    What is the end of fame? ’T is but to fill
  A certain portion of uncertain paper.
          Don Juan. Canto i. Stanza 218.
202
    At leaving even the most unpleasant people
And places, one keeps looking at the steeple.
          Don Juan. Canto ii. Stanza 14.
203
    There ’s nought, no doubt, so much the spirit calms
As rum and true religion.
          Don Juan. Canto ii. Stanza 34.
204
    A solitary shriek, the bubbling cry
Of some strong swimmer in his agony.
          Don Juan. Canto ii. Stanza 53.
205
    All who joy would win
Must share it,—happiness was born a twin.
          Don Juan. Canto ii. Stanza 172.
206
    Let us have wine and women, mirth and laughter,
Sermons and soda-water the day after.
          Don Juan. Canto ii. Stanza 178.
207
    A long, long kiss,—a kiss of youth and love.
          Don Juan. Canto ii. Stanza 186.
208
    Alas, the love of women! it is known
  To be a lovely and a fearful thing.
          Don Juan. Canto ii. Stanza 199.
209
    In her first passion woman loves her lover:
  In all the others, all she loves is love. 32
          Don Juan. Canto iii. Stanza 3.
210
    He was the mildest manner’d man
That ever scuttled ship or cut a throat.
          Don Juan. Canto iii. Stanza 41.
211
    The isles of Greece, the isles of Greece!
  Where burning Sappho loved and sung.
     .     .     .     .     .
Eternal summer gilds them yet,
But all except their sun is set.
          Don Juan. Canto iii. Stanza 86. 1.
212
    The mountains look on Marathon,
  And Marathon looks on the sea;
And musing there an hour alone,
  I dreamed that Greece might still be free.
          Don Juan. Canto iii. Stanza 86. 3.
213
    Earth! render back from out thy breast
A remnant of our Spartan dead!
Of the three hundred grant but three
To make a new Thermopylæ.
          Don Juan. Canto iii. Stanza 86. 7.
214
    You have the Pyrrhic dance as yet,
  Where is the Pyrrhic phalanx gone?
Of two such lessons, why forget
  The nobler and the manlier one?
You have the letters Cadmus gave,—
Think ye he meant them for a slave?
          Don Juan. Canto iii. Stanza 86. 10.
215
    Place me on Sunium’s marbled steep,
  Where nothing save the waves and I
May hear our mutual murmurs sweep;
  There, swan-like, let me sing and die. 33
          Don Juan. Canto iii. Stanza 86. 16.
216
    But words are things, and a small drop of ink,
  Falling like dew upon a thought, produces
That which makes thousands, perhaps millions, think.
          Don Juan. Canto iii. Stanza 88.
217
    Ah, surely nothing dies but something mourns.
          Don Juan. Canto iii. Stanza 108.
218
    And if I laugh at any mortal thing,
’T is that I may not weep.
          Don Juan. Canto iv. Stanza 4.
219
    The precious porcelain of human clay. 34
          Don Juan. Canto iv. Stanza 11.
220
    “Whom the gods love die young,” was said of yore. 35
          Don Juan. Canto iv. Stanza 12.
221
    Perhaps the early grave
Which men weep over may be meant to save.
          Don Juan. Canto iv. Stanza 12.
222
    And her face so fair
Stirr’d with her dream, as rose-leaves with the air. 36
          Don Juan. Canto iv. Stanza 29.
223
    These two hated with a hate
  Found only on the stage.
          Don Juan. Canto iv. Stanza 93.
224
    “Arcades ambo,”—id est, blackguards both.
          Don Juan. Canto iv. Stanza 93.
225
    I ’ve stood upon Achilles’ tomb,
And heard Troy doubted: time will doubt of Rome.
          Don Juan. Canto iv. Stanza 101.
226
    Oh “darkly, deeply, beautifully blue!” 37
  As some one somewhere sings about the sky.
          Don Juan. Canto iv. Stanza 110.
227
    There ’s not a sea the passenger e’er pukes in,
Turns up more dangerous breakers than the Euxine.
          Don Juan. Canto v. Stanza 5.
228
    But all have prices,
From crowns to kicks, according to their vices. 38
          Don Juan. Canto v. Stanza 27.
229
    And puts himself upon his good behaviour.
          Don Juan. Canto v. Stanza 47.
230
    That all-softening, overpowering knell,
The tocsin of the soul,—the dinner bell.
          Don Juan. Canto v. Stanza 49.
231
    The women pardon’d all except her face.
          Don Juan. Canto v. Stanza 113.
232
    Heroic, stoic Cato, the sententious,
Who lent his lady to his friend Hortensius.
          Don Juan. Canto vi. Stanza 7.
233
    A “strange coincidence,” to use a phrase
By which such things are settled nowadays.
          Don Juan. Canto vi. Stanza 78.
234
    The drying up a single tear has more
Of honest fame than shedding seas of gore.
          Don Juan. Canto viii. Stanza 3.
235
    Thrice happy he whose name has been well spelt
In the despatch: I knew a man whose loss
Was printed Grove, although his name was Grose.
          Don Juan. Canto viii. Stanza 18.
236
    What a strange thing is man! and what a stranger
Is woman!
          Don Juan. Canto ix. Stanza 64.
237
    And wrinkles, the damned democrats, won’t flatter.
          Don Juan. Canto x. Stanza 24.
238
    Oh for a forty-parson power!
          Don Juan. Canto x. Stanza 34.
239
    When Bishop Berkeley said “there was no matter,”
  And proved it,—’t was no matter what he said. 39
          Don Juan. Canto xi. Stanza 1.
240
    And after all, what is a lie? ’T is but
  The truth in masquerade.
          Don Juan. Canto xi. Stanza 37.
241
    ’T is strange the mind, that very fiery particle,
Should let itself be snuff’d out by an article.
          Don Juan. Canto xi. Stanza 59.
242
    Of all tales ’t is the saddest,—and more sad,
Because it makes us smile.
          Don Juan. Canto xiii. Stanza 9.
243
    Cervantes smil’d Spain’s chivalry away.
          Don Juan. Canto xiii. Stanza 11.
244
    Society is now one polish’d horde,
Formed of two mighty tribes, the Bores and Bored.
          Don Juan. Canto xiii. Stanza 95.
245
    All human history attests
That happiness for man,—the hungry sinner!—
Since Eve ate apples, much depends on dinner. 40
          Don Juan. Canto xiii. Stanza 99.
246
    ’T is strange, but true; for truth is always strange,—
Stranger than fiction.
          Don Juan. Canto xiv. Stanza 101.
247
    The Devil hath not, in all his quiver’s choice,
An arrow for the heart like a sweet voice.
          Don Juan. Canto xv. Stanza 13.
248
    A lovely being, scarcely formed or moulded,
A rose with all its sweetest leaves yet folded.
          Don Juan. Canto xv. Stanza 43.
249
    Friendship is Love without his wings.
          L’Amitié est l’Amour sans Ailes.
250
    I awoke one morning and found myself famous.
          Memoranda from his Life, by Moore, Chap. xiv.
251
    The best of prophets of the future is the past.
          Letter, Jan. 28, 1821.
252
    What say you to such a supper with such a woman? 41
          Note to a Letter on Bowles’s Strictures.
 
Note 1.
See Waller, Quotation 2. [back]
Note 2.
Medio de fonte leporum
Surgit amari aliquid quod in ipsis floribus angat
(In the midst of the fountain of wit there arises something bitter, which stings in the very flowers).—Lucretius: iv. 1133. [back]
Note 3.
”War even to the knife” was the reply of Palafox, the governor of Saragossa, when summoned to surrender by the French, who besieged that city in 1808. [back]
Note 4.
See Waller, Quotation 11. [back]
Note 5.
See Sheridan, Quotation 40. [back]
Note 6.
I am a part of all that I have met.—Alfred Tennyson: Ulysses. [back]
Note 7.
See Gibbon, Quotation 11. [back]
Note 8.
Good bye, proud world; I ’m going home.
Thou art not my friend, and I ’m not thine.
Ralph Waldo Emerson: Good Bye, proud World.

See Johnson, Quotation 101. [back]
Note 9.
See Wordsworth, Quotation 93. [back]
Note 10.
A translation of the famous sonnet of Filicaja: “Italia, Italia! O tu cui feo la sorte.” [back]
Note 11.
See Wordsworth, Quotation 136. [back]
Note 12.
Literally the exclamation of the pilgrims in the eighth century. [back]
Note 13.
See Cowper, Quotation 51. [back]
Note 14.
See Pope, Quotation 326. [back]
Note 15.
And thou vast ocean, on whose awful face
Time’s iron feet can print no ruin-trace.
Robert Montgomery: The Omnipresence of the Deity. [back]
Note 16.
He laid his hand upon “the ocean’s mane,”
And played familiar with his hoary locks.
Robert Pollok: The Course of Time, book iv. line 389. [back]
Note 17.
Know’st thou the land where the lemon-trees bloom,
Where the gold orange glows in the deep thicket’s gloom,
Where a wind ever soft from the blue heaven blows,
And the groves are of laurel and myrtle and rose!
Goethe: Wilhelm Meister. [back]
Note 18.
See Gray, Quotation 14. [back]
Note 19.
See Lovelace, Quotation 1. Browne, Quotation 8. [back]
Note 20.
Solitudinem faciunt, pacem appellant (They make solitude, which they call peace).—Tacitus: Agricola, c. 30. [back]
Note 21.
I came to the place of my birth, and cried, “The friends of my youth, where are they?” And echo answered, “Where are they?”—Arabic MS. [back]
Note 22.
See Churchill, Quotation 10.

To all nations their empire will be dreadful, because their ships will sail wherever billows roll or winds can waft them.—Dalrymple: Memoirs, vol. iii. p. 152. [back]
Note 23.
See Burton, Quotation 17. [back]
Note 24.
The subject of these lines was Mrs. R. Wilmot.—Berry Memoirs, vol. iii. p. 7. [back]
Note 25.
See Congreve, Quotation 7. [back]
Note 26.
Natura il fece, e poi ruppe la stampa (Nature made him, and then broke the mould).—Ariosto: Orlando Furioso, canto x. stanza 84.

The idea that Nature lost the perfect mould has been a favorite one with all song-writers and poets, and is found in the literature of all European nations.—Book of English Songs, p. 28. [back]
Note 27.
She floats upon the river of his thoughts.—Henry W. Longfellow: The Spanish Student, act ii. sc. 3. [back]
Note 28.
With a heart for any fate.—Henry W. Longfellow: A Psalm of Life. [back]
Note 29.
My heart is wax to be moulded as she pleases, but enduring as marble to retain.—Cervantes: The Little Gypsy. [back]
Note 30.
Vixerunt fortes ante Agamemnona
Multi.
Horace: Ode iv. 9. 25. [back]
Note 31.
See Middleton, Quotation 16. [back]
Note 32.
Dans les premières passions les femmes aiment l’amant, et dans les autres elles aiment l’amour.—Francis, Duc de La Rochefoucauld: Maxim 471. [back]
Note 33.
See Shakespeare, The Merchant of Venice, Quotation 52. [back]
Note 34.
See Dryden, Quotation 102. [back]
Note 35.
See Wordsworth, Quotation 148. [back]
Note 36.
All her innocent thoughts
Like rose-leaves scatter’d.
John Wilson: On the Death of a Child. (1812.) [back]
Note 37.
See Southey, Quotation 18. [back]
Note 38.
See Robert Walpole, Quotation 2. [back]
Note 39.
What is mind? No matter. What is matter? Never mind.—T. H. Key (once Head Master of University College School). On the authority of F. J. Furnivall. [back]
Note 40.
For a man seldom thinks with more earnestness of anything than he does of his dinner.—Piozzi: Anecdotes of Samuel Johnson, p. 149. [back]
Note 41.
See Lady Montagu, Quotation 2. [back]
 

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