George Gordon Noel Byron ( 10 of 329 )
When falls the Coliseum, Rome shall fall;
And when Rome falls--the World.
When falls the Coliseum, Rome shall fall;
And when Rome falls--the World.
She bears her down majestically near,
Speed on her prow, and terror in her tier.
She bears her down majestically near,
Speed on her prow, and terror in her tier.
Sorrow preys upon
Its solitude, and nothing more diverts it
From its sad visions of the other read more
Sorrow preys upon
Its solitude, and nothing more diverts it
From its sad visions of the other world
Than calling it at moments back to this.
The busy have no time for tears.
Of all the horrid, hideous notes of woe,
Sadder than owl-songs or the midnight blast;
Is that read more
Of all the horrid, hideous notes of woe,
Sadder than owl-songs or the midnight blast;
Is that portentous phrase, "I told you so."
Fare thee well! and if for ever,
Still for ever, fare thee well.
Fare thee well! and if for ever,
Still for ever, fare thee well.
And be the Spartan's epitaph on me--
"Sparta hath many a worthier son than he."
And be the Spartan's epitaph on me--
"Sparta hath many a worthier son than he."
But words are things, and a small drop of ink,
Falling, like dew, upon a thought produces
read more
But words are things, and a small drop of ink,
Falling, like dew, upon a thought produces
That which makes thousands, perhaps millions think.
The castled crag of Drachenfels,
Frowns o'er the wide and winding Rhine,
Whose breast of waters broadly read more
The castled crag of Drachenfels,
Frowns o'er the wide and winding Rhine,
Whose breast of waters broadly swells
Between the banks which bear the vine,
And hills all rich with blossom'd trees,
And fields which promise corn and wine,
And scatter'd cities crowning these,
Whose far white walls along them shine.
The devil hath not, in all his quiver's choice,
An arrow for the heart like a sweet voice.
The devil hath not, in all his quiver's choice,
An arrow for the heart like a sweet voice.
The thorns which I have reap'd are of the tree
I planted--they have torn me--and I bleed!
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The thorns which I have reap'd are of the tree
I planted--they have torn me--and I bleed!
I should have known what fruit would spring from such a seed.
