George Gordon Noel Byron ( 10 of 329 )
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.
I depart,
Whither I know not; but the hour's gone by
When Albion's lessening shores could grieve read more
I depart,
Whither I know not; but the hour's gone by
When Albion's lessening shores could grieve or glad mine eye.
Sofas 'twas half a sin to sit upon,
So costly were they; carpets, every stitch
Of workmanship read more
Sofas 'twas half a sin to sit upon,
So costly were they; carpets, every stitch
Of workmanship so rare, they make you wish
You could glide o'er them like a golden fish.
In the desert a fountain is springing,
In the wide waste there still is a tree,
And read more
In the desert a fountain is springing,
In the wide waste there still is a tree,
And a bird in the solitude singing,
Which speaks to my spirit of thee.
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.
Not fewer than three nor more than nine.
[Lat., Neque pauciores tribus, neque plures novem.]
Not fewer than three nor more than nine.
[Lat., Neque pauciores tribus, neque plures novem.]
Brave men are all vertebrates; they have their softness on the
surface and their toughness in the middle.
Brave men are all vertebrates; they have their softness on the
surface and their toughness in the middle.
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."
Roll on, thou deep and dark blue Ocean--roll!
Ten thousand fleets sweep over thee in vain;
Man read more
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.
The tenor's voice is spoilt by affectation,
And for the bass, the beast can only bellow;
In read more
The tenor's voice is spoilt by affectation,
And for the bass, the beast can only bellow;
In fact, he had no singing education,
An ignorant, noteless, timeless, tuneless fellow.
