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John Bartlett (1820–1905). Familiar Quotations, 10th ed. 1919.

Page 543

 
 
George Gordon Noel Byron, Lord Byron. (1788–1824) (continued)
 
5615
    Or whispering with white lips, “The foe! They come! they come!”
          Childe Harold’s Pilgrimage, Canto iii. Stanza 25.
5616
    Grieving, if aught inanimate e’er grieves,
Over the unreturning brave.
          Childe Harold’s Pilgrimage, Canto iii. Stanza 27.
5617
    Battle’s magnificently stern array.
          Childe Harold’s Pilgrimage, Canto iii. Stanza 28.
5618
    And thus the heart will break, yet brokenly live on.
          Childe Harold’s Pilgrimage, Canto iii. Stanza 32.
5619
    But quiet to quick bosoms is a hell.
          Childe Harold’s Pilgrimage, Canto iii. Stanza 42.
5620
    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.
5621
    All tenantless, save to the crannying wind.
          Childe Harold’s Pilgrimage, Canto iii. Stanza 47.
5622
    The castled crag of Drachenfels
Frowns o’er the wide and winding Rhine.
          Childe Harold’s Pilgrimage, Canto iii. Stanza 55.
5623
    He had kept
The whiteness of his soul, and thus men o’er him wept.
          Childe Harold’s Pilgrimage, Canto iii. Stanza 57.
5624
    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.
5625
    By the blue rushing of the arrowy Rhone.
          Childe Harold’s Pilgrimage, Canto iii. Stanza 71.
5626
    I live not in myself, but I become
Portion of that around me; 1 and to me
High mountains are a feeling, but the hum
Of human cities torture.
          Childe Harold’s Pilgrimage, Canto iii. Stanza 72.
5627
    This quiet sail is as a noiseless wing
To waft me from distraction.
          Childe Harold’s Pilgrimage, Canto iii. Stanza 85.
5628
    On the ear
Drops the light drip of the suspended oar.
          Childe Harold’s Pilgrimage, Canto iii. Stanza 86.
 
Note 1.
I am a part of all that I have met.—Alfred Tennyson: Ulysses. [back]