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| Hoyt & Roberts, comps. Hoyt’s New Cyclopedia of Practical Quotations. 1922. |
| Farewell |
| He turn’d him right and round about Upon the Irish shore, And gae his bridle reins a shake, With Adieu for evermore, My dear, With Adieu for evermore. Burns—It Was a’ for our Rightfu’ King. Used and altered by Scott in Rokeby and Monastery. | 1 |
| Farewell! a word that must be, and hath been— A sound which makes us linger;—yet—farewell! Byron—Childe Harold. Canto IV. St. 186. | 2 |
| “Farewell!” For in that word—that fatal word—howe’er We promise—hope—believe—there breathes despair. Byron—Corsair. Canto I. St. 15. | 3 |
| Fare thee well! and if for ever, Still for ever, fare thee well. Byron—Fare Thee Well. | 4 |
| “Adieu,” she cries, and waved her lily hand. Gay—Sweet William’s Farewell to Black-eyed Susan. | 5 |
| Friend, ahoy! Farewell! farewell! Grief unto grief, joy unto joy, Greeting and help the echoes tell Faint, but eternal—Friend, ahoy! Helen Hunt Jackson—Verses. Friend, Ahoy! | 6 |
| Though I often salute you, you never salute me first; I shall therefore, Pontilianus, salute you with an eternal farewell. Martial—Epigrams. Bk. V. Ep. 66. | 7 |
| Farewell, happy fields, Where joy forever dwells; hail, horrors! Milton—Paradise Lost. Bk. I. L. 249. | 8 |
| Gude nicht, and joy be wi’ you a’. Lady Nairne—Gude Nicht, etc. | 9 |
| Farewell to Lochaber, and farewell, my Jean, Where heartsome wi’ thee I hae mony day been: For Lochaber no more, Lochaber no more, We’ll maybe return to Lochaber no more. Allan Ramsay—Farewell to Lochaber. | 10 |
| Fare thee well; The elements be kind to thee, and make Thy spirits all of comfort! Antony and Cleopatra. Act III. Sc. 2. L. 39. | 11 |
| Sweets to the sweet; farewell! Hamlet. Act V. Sc. 1. L. 266. | 12 |
| Farewell, and stand fast. Henry IV. Pt. I. Act II. Sc. 2. L. 75. | 13 |
| Farewell the plumed troop, and the big wars, That make ambition virtue! O, farewell! Farewell the neighing steed, and the shrill trump, The spirit-stirring drum, the ear-piercing fife. Othello. Act III. Sc. 3. L. 349. | 14 |
| Here’s my hand. And mine, with my heart in’t: and now farewell, Till half an hour hence. Tempest. Act III. Sc. 1. L. 89. | 15 |
| Then westward ho! Grace and good disposition Attend your ladyship! Twelfth Night. Act III. Sc. 1. L. 146. | 16 |
| So sweetly she bade me adieu, I thought that she bade me return. Shenstone—A Pastoral Ballad. Pt. I. Absence. St. 5. | 17 |
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