George Gordon Noel Byron ( 10 of 329 )
In Venice, Tass's echoes are no more,
And silent rows the songless gondolier;
Her palaces are crumbling read more
In Venice, Tass's echoes are no more,
And silent rows the songless gondolier;
Her palaces are crumbling to the shore,
And music meets not always now the ear.
Sweet is old wine in bottles, ale in barrels.
Sweet is old wine in bottles, ale in barrels.
When health, affrighted, spreads her rosy wing,
And flies with every changing gale of spring.
When health, affrighted, spreads her rosy wing,
And flies with every changing gale of spring.
Nor all that heralds rake from coffin'd clay,
Nor florid prose, nor honied lies of rhyme,
Can read more
Nor all that heralds rake from coffin'd clay,
Nor florid prose, nor honied lies of rhyme,
Can blazon evil deeds, or consecrate a crime.
That all-softening, overpowering knell,
The tocsin of the soul--the dinner bell.
That all-softening, overpowering knell,
The tocsin of the soul--the dinner bell.
A quiet conscience makes one so serene!
Christians have burnt each other, quite persuaded
That all the read more
A quiet conscience makes one so serene!
Christians have burnt each other, quite persuaded
That all the Apostles would have done as they did.
Fools are my theme, let satire be my song.
Fools are my theme, let satire be my song.
I tell him, if a clergyman, he lies!
If captains the remark, or critics, make,
Why they read more
I tell him, if a clergyman, he lies!
If captains the remark, or critics, make,
Why they lie also--under a mistake.
But 'midst the crowd, the hum, the shock of men,
To hear, to see, to feel, and to possess,
read more
But 'midst the crowd, the hum, the shock of men,
To hear, to see, to feel, and to possess,
And roam along, the world's tired denizen,
With none who bless us, none whom we can bless.
There's not a sea the passenger e'er pukes in,
Turns up more dangerous breakers than the Euxine.
There's not a sea the passenger e'er pukes in,
Turns up more dangerous breakers than the Euxine.
