Lord Byron Quotes

453 Sourced Quotes

And Coleridge, too, has lately taken wing,
But, like a hawk encumbered with his hood,
Explaining metaphysics to the nation—
I wish he would explain his explanation.

Lord Byron
The cold, the changed, perchance the dead, anew, The mourn'd, the loved, the lost,-too many, yet how few!

Lord Byron
John Adams lies here, of the parish of Southwell,
A carrier who carried his can to his mouth well;
He carried so much, and he carried so fast,
He could carry no more—so was carried at last;
For the liquor he drank, being too much for one,
He could not carry off—so he's now carri-on.

Lord Byron
'Tis sweet to hear the watchdog's honest bark Bay deep-mouth'd welcome as we draw near home; 'Tis sweet to know there is an eye will mark Our coming, and look brighter when we come.

Lord Byron
As the liberty lads o'er the sea
Bought their freedom, and cheaply, with blood,
So we, boys, we
Shall die fighting or live free,
And down with all kings but King Ludd!

Lord Byron
The Assyrian came down like the wolf on the fold,
And his cohorts were gleaming in purple and gold;
And the sheen of their spears was like stars on the sea,
When the blue wave rolls nightly on deep Galilee.

Lord Byron
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 wanton'd with thy breakers.

Lord Byron
Love rules the camp, the court, the grove - for love is Heaven, and Heaven is love.

Lord Byron
Might shake the saintship of an anchorite.

Lord Byron
Titan! to thee the strife was given
Between the suffering and the will,
Which torture where they cannot kill;
And the inexorable Heaven,
And the deaf tyranny of Fate,
The ruling principle of Hate,
Which for its pleasure doth create
The things it may annihilate,
Refused thee even the boon to die:
The wretched gift eternity
Was thine — and thou hast borne it well.
All that the Thunderer wrung from thee
Was but the menace which flung back
On him the torments of thy rack;
The fate thou didst so well foresee,
But would not to appease him tell;
And in thy Silence was his Sentence,
And in his Soul a vain repentance,
And evil dread so ill dissembled,
That in his hand the lightnings trembled.

Lord Byron
He who grown aged in this world of woe, In deeds, not years, piercing the depths of life, So that no wonder waits him.

Lord Byron
Whate'er
I may have been, or am, doth rest between
Heaven and myself; I shall not choose a mortal
To be my mediator.

Lord Byron
Which cheers the sad, revives the old, inspires The young, makes Weariness forget his toil, And Fear her danger; opens a new world When this, the present, palls.

Lord Byron
There's not a sea the passenger e'er pukes in, Turns up more dangerous breakers than the Euxine.

Lord Byron
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.

Lord Byron
If from society we learn to live,
'Tis solitude should teach us how to die.

Lord Byron
There's music in the sighing of a reed; There's music in the gushing of a rill; There's music in all things, if men had ears; The earth is but the music of the spheres.

Lord Byron
Sighing that Nature form'd but one such man, And broke the die, in molding Sheridan.

Lord Byron
But mighty Nature bounds as from her birth;
The sun is in the heavens, and life on earth:
Flowers in the valley, splendor in the beam,
Health on the gale, and freshness in the stream.

Lord Byron
Nothing so difficult as a beginning In poesy, unless perhaps the end.

Lord Byron
What men call gallantry, and gods adultery,
Is much more common where the climate's sultry.

Lord Byron
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?

Lord Byron
I speak not of men's creeds—they rest between Man and his Maker.

Lord Byron
Oh, Mirth and Innocence! Oh, Milk and Water! Ye happy mixture of more happy days!

Lord Byron
Shrine of the mighty! can it be
That this is all remains of thee?

Lord Byron