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Like Scipio, buried by the upbraiding shore.

Childe Harold's Pilgrimage, Canto iv. Stanza 87.

Thou wert a beautiful thought, and softly bodied forth.

Stanza 118. Alas! our young affections run to waste, Or water but the desert. Stanza 120.

I see before me the Gladiator lie. stanza 140.

There were his young barbarians all at play,
There was their Dacian mother, — he, their sire,
Butchered to make a Roman holidayCo stanza 141.

"While stands the Coliseum, Rome shall stand;

When falls the Coliseum, Rome shall fall;

And when Rome falls, — the World." * 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? Stanza 168.

0 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! 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. 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. Stanza 179.

1 Literally the exclamation of the pilgrims in the eighth century.

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. 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.1

Stanza 184. And what is writ, is writ, — Would it were worthier! stanza 185.

Farewell! a word that must be, and hath been, —

A sound which makes us linger; yet—farewell!

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.

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. * 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,

The leafless desert of the mind,
The waste of feelings unemployed.

Better to sink beneath the shock
Than moulder piecemeal on the rock!

The cold in clime are cold in blood,

Their love can scarce deserve the name.

I die, — but first I have possessed,
And, come what may, I have been blest.

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 Alia given,

To lift from earth our low desire.

Line 106.
Lint 123.

Line 418.

Line 957.

Line 969. Line 1099. Line 1114.

Lint 1127.

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 ?l

The Bride of Ahydot. Canto i. Stanza 1.

Where the virgins are soft as the roses they twine, And all, save the spirit of man, is divine? Ibid.

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 ? Stanza o.

The light of love, the purity of grace,

The mind, the music breathing from her face,'

The heart whose softness harmonized the whole,

And oh! that eye was in itself a Soul! 1hid.

The blind old man of Seio's roeky 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! Stanza 20.

He makes a solitude, and calls it — peaee! * 1hid.

Hark! to the hurried question of Despair: "Where is my child ?"—an Eeho answers, "Where ?" *

Stanza 27. i 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. s Compare Lovelaee. Page 172. Also Browne's Rtligio Medici, Part ii. See. 9. Page 177.

z Solitudinem faeiunt, paeem appellant. — Tacitus, Ayrieola, 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. Ibid

She walks the waters like a thing of life,

And seems to dare the elements to strife. 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.

Farewell! For in that word, — that fatal word, — howe'er We promise, hope, believe,—there breathes despair.

Stanza 15.

No words suffice the secret soul to show,

For truth denies all eloquence to woe. Canto iii. Stanza 22.

He left a Corsair's name to other times,

Linked with one virtue and a thousand crimes.1

Stanza 24.

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

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

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

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