George Gordon Noel Byron ( 10 of 329 )
Dead scandals form good subjects for dissection.
Dead scandals form good subjects for dissection.
So sweet the blush of bashfulness,
E'en pity scarce can wish it less!
So sweet the blush of bashfulness,
E'en pity scarce can wish it less!
It was the cooling hour, just when the rounded
Red sun sinks down behind the azure hill,
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It was the cooling hour, just when the rounded
Red sun sinks down behind the azure hill,
Which then seems as if the whole earth is bounded,
Circling all nature, hush'd, and dim, and still,
With the far mountain-crescent half surrounded
On one side, and the deep sea calm and chill
Upon the other, and the rosy sky
With one star sparkling through it like an eye.
"Darkly, deeply, beautifully blue,"
As some one somewhere sings about the sky.
"Darkly, deeply, beautifully blue,"
As some one somewhere sings about the sky.
Parent of golden dreams, Romance!
Auspicious queen of childish joys,
Who lead'st along, in airy dance,
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Parent of golden dreams, Romance!
Auspicious queen of childish joys,
Who lead'st along, in airy dance,
Thy votive train of girls and boys.
Eternal Spirit of the chainless Mind!
Brightest in dungeons, Liberty! thou art,
For there thy habitation is read more
Eternal Spirit of the chainless Mind!
Brightest in dungeons, Liberty! thou art,
For there thy habitation is the heart--
The heart which love of thee alone can bind;
And when thy sons to fetters are consign'd--
To fetters and damp vault's dayless gloom,
Their country conquers with their martyrdom.
- Lord Byron (George Gordon Noel Byron),
Few things surpass old wine; and they may preach
Who please, the more because they preach in vain,--
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Few things surpass old wine; and they may preach
Who please, the more because they preach in vain,--
Let us have wine and women, mirth and laughter,
Sermons and soda-water the day after.
Kind reader! take your choice to cry or laugh;
Here Harod lies--but where's his Epitaph?
If such read more
Kind reader! take your choice to cry or laugh;
Here Harod lies--but where's his Epitaph?
If such you seek, try Westminister, and view
Ten thousand, just as fit for him as you.
Yet still there whispers the small voice within,
Heard through Gain's silence, and o'er Glory's din;
Whatever read more
Yet still there whispers the small voice within,
Heard through Gain's silence, and o'er Glory's din;
Whatever creed be taught or land be trod,
Man's conscience is the oracle of God.
A mighty mass of brick, and smoke, and shipping,
Dirty and dusty, but as wide as eye
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A mighty mass of brick, and smoke, and shipping,
Dirty and dusty, but as wide as eye
Could reach, with here and there a sail just skipping
In sight, then lost amidst the forestry
Of masts; a wilderness of steeples peeping
On tiptoe through their sea-coal canopy;
A huge, dun cupola, like a foolscap crown
On a fool's head--and there is London Town.
