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.
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.
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.
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.
From the mingled strength of shade and light
A new creation rises to my sight,
Such heav'nly read more
From the mingled strength of shade and light
A new creation rises to my sight,
Such heav'nly figures from his pencil flow,
So warm with light his blended colors glow.
. . . .
The glowing portraits, fresh from life, that bring
Home to our hearts the truth from which they spring.
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 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.
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.
A thirst for gold,
The beggar's vice, which can but overwhelm
The meanest hearts.
A thirst for gold,
The beggar's vice, which can but overwhelm
The meanest hearts.
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.
