He sinks into thy depths with bubbling groan,
Without a grave, unknelled, uncoffined, 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.1

Stanza 182.

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

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,

Stanza 183.

-as I do here.2

And what is writ, is writ,

Would it were worthier!

Stanza 184.

Stanza 185.

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

Hands promiscuously applied,

Stanza 186.

Round the slight waist, or down the glowing side.

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 Waltz.

The Giaour. Line 68.

1 And thou vast ocean, on whose awful face Time's iron feet can print no ruin-trace.

Robert Montgomery, The Omnipresence of the Deity.

2 He laid his hand upon "the ocean's mane,"

And played familiar with his hoary locks.

Pollok, The Course of Time, Book iv. Line 389.

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

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 keenest pangs the wretched find
Are rapture to the dreary void,

Line 106.

Line 123.

Line 418.

The leafless desert of the mind,

The waste of feelings unemployed.

Better to sink beneath the shock

Line 957.

And, come what may, I have been blest.

Line 1114.

She was a form of life and light,

That, seen, became a part of sight;

And rose, where'er I turned 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.

Line 1127.

BYRON.

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?1

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

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?

Ibid.

Stanza &

The light of love, the purity of grace,

The mind, the music breathing from her face,2

The heart whose softness harmonized the whole,
And oh! that eye was in itself a Soul!

Ibid.

The blind old man of Scio's rocky isle. Canto ii. Stanza 2.

Be thou the rainbow to the storms of life!
The evening beam that smiles the clouds away,
And tints to-morrow with prophetic ray!

8

Stanza 20.

Ibid.

He makes a solitude, and calls it - peace! 3
Hark! to the hurried question of Despair:
"Where is my child?"-an Echo answers, "Where?"4

Stanza 27.

1 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?

2 Compare Lovelace. Page 172. Also Browne's Religio Medici, Goethe, Wilhelm Meister. Part ii. Sec. 9. Page 177.

8 Solitudinem faciunt, pacem appellant. - Tacitus, Agricola, 30. 4 I came to the place of my birth, and cried, "The friends of my

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,1
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. O, who can tell, save he whose heart hath tried.

She walks the waters like a thing of life,
And seems to dare the elements to strife.

Ibid.

Stanza 3.

The power of Thought, the magic of the Mind!

Stanza 8.

The many still must labour for the one.

Ibid.

There was a laughing devil in his sneer.

Stanza 9.

Hope withering fled, and Mercy sighed farewell! Ibid.

We promise, hope, believe, there breathes despair.

No words suffice the secret soul to show,
For truth denies all eloquence to woe.

Stanza 15.

Canto iii. Stanza 22.

He left a Corsair's name to other times,
Linked with one virtue and a thousand crimes.2

Stanza 24.

youth, where are they?" And an Echo answered, "Where are they?"- From an Arabic MS.

1 To all nations their empire will be dreadful; because their ships will sail wherever billows roll or winds can waft them. - Dalrymple's Memoirs, iii. 152.

2 Hannibal, as he had mighty virtues, so had he many vices; unam virtutem mille ritia comitantur. As Machiavel said of Cosmo de Medici, he had two distinct persons in him. - Burton, Anatomy of Melancholy. Democritus to the Reader.

Lord of himself, — that heritage of woe!

Lara. Canto i. Stanza 2.

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 mellowed to that tender light Which Heaven to gaudy day denies.

Hebrew Melodies. She walks in beauty.

The Assyrian came down like the wolf on the fold,
And his cohorts were gleaming in purple and gold.
The Destruction of Sennacherib.

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 whispered word.

Yet in my lineaments they trace
Some features of my father's face.

Fare thee well! and if for ever,
Still for ever fare thee well.

Parisina. Stanza 1.

Stanza 13.

Born in the garret, in the kitchen bred.
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.
The careful pilot of my proper woe.

Fare thee well.

A Sketch.

Stanzas to Augusta.

Epistle to Augusta. Stanza 3.

When all of Genius which can perish dies.

Monody on the Death of Sheridan. Line 22.

Folly loves the martyrdom of Fame.

Line 68.

Who track the steps of Glory to the grave.

Line 74.