Lord Byron - Childe Harold's Pilgrimage

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But life will suit
Itself to Sorrow's most detested fruit,
Like to the apples on the Dead Sea's shore,
All ashes to the taste.

Lord Byron
Time writes no wrinkle on thine azure brow—
Such as creation's dawn beheld, thou rollest now.

Lord Byron
Then stirs the feeling infinite, so felt In solitude, where we are least alone.

Lord Byron
Oh! that the desert were my dwelling place.

Lord Byron
There were his young barbarians all at play,
There was their Dacian mother— he, their sire,
Butchered to make a Roman holiday.

Lord Byron
Thou fatal Waterloo.
Millions of tongues record thee, and anew Their children's lips shall echo them, and say— "Here, where the sword united nations drew,
Our countrymen were warring on that day!"
And this is much, and all which will not pass away.

Lord Byron
Time, the avenger! unto thee I lift
My hands, and eyes, and heart, and crave of thee a gift.

Lord Byron
On with the dance! let joy be unconfined;
No sleep till morn, when Youth and Pleasure meet
To chase the glowing Hours with flying feet.

Lord Byron
A schoolboy's tale, the wonder of an hour!

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

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
Might shake the saintship of an anchorite.

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
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
Once more upon the waters! yet once more!
And the waves bound beneath me as a steed
That knows his rider.

Lord Byron
Gone—glimmering through the dream of things that were.

Lord Byron
Admire, exult, despise, laugh, weep for here There is such matter for all feelings: Man! Thou pendulum betwixt a smile and tear.

Lord Byron
The beings of the mind are not of clay;
Essentially immortal, they create And multiply in us a brighter ray And more beloved existence.

Lord Byron
He sinks into thy depths with bubbling groan, Without a grave, unknell'd, uncoffin'd, and unknown.

Lord Byron
Adieu, adieu! my native shore
Fades o'er the waters blue.

Lord Byron
I stood in Venice, on the Bridge of Sighs:
A palace and a prison on each hand.

Lord Byron
Exhausting thought, And hiving wisdom with each studious year.

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

Lord Byron