Scion of chiefs and monarchs, where art thou?
Fond hope of many nations, art thou dead?
Could not the grave forget thee, and lay low
Some less majestic, less beloved head?

Childe Harold's Pilgrimage. Canto iv. Stanza 168.

Oh that the desert were my dwelling-place,1
With one fair spirit for my minister,
That I might all forget the human race,
And hating no one, love but only her!

There is a pleasure in the pathless woods;
There is a rapture on the lonely shore;
There is society, where none intrudes,
By the deep sea, and music in its roar:
I love not man the less, but Nature 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.

Stanza 177.

Stanza 178.

Stanza 179.

He sinks into thy depths with bubbling groan, Without a grave, unknell'd, uncoffin'd, and unknown.2

Time writes no wrinkle on thine azure brow, -
Such as creation's dawn beheld, thou rollest now.3

Ibid.

Stanza 182.

Thou glorious mirror, where the Almighty's form
Glasses itself in tempests.

And I have loved thee, Ocean! and my joy
Of youthful sports was on thy breast to be
Borne, like thy bubbles, onward; from a boy

1 See Cowper, page 418.

2 See Pope, page 341.

3 And thou vast ocean, on whose awful face

Time's iron feet can print no ruin-trace.

Stanza 183.

ROBERT MONTGOMERY: The Omnipresence of the Deity.

I wantoned with thy breakers,

And trusted to thy billows far and near,
And laid

my hand

upon thy mane, - as I do here.1 Childe Harold's Pilgrimage. Canto iv. Stanza 184 And what is writ is writ,

Would it were worthier!

Stanza 185.

Farewell! a word that must be, and hath been,
A sound which makes us linger; yet - farewell!

Hands promiscuously applied,

Stanza 186.

Round the slight waist, or down the glowing side.

He who hath bent him o'er the dead
Ere the first day of death is fled,
The first dark day of nothingness,
The last of danger and distress,
Before decay's effacing fingers

The Waltz.

Have swept the lines where beauty lingers.

The Giaour. Line 68.

Such is the aspect of this shore;
'Tis Greece, but living Greece no more!
So coldly sweet, so deadly fair,
We start, for soul is wanting there.

Shrine of the mighty! can it be
That this is all remains of thee?
For freedom's battle, once begun,
Bequeath'd by bleeding sire to son,
Though baffled oft, is ever won.

And lovelier things have mercy shown
To every failing but their own;
And every woe a tear can claim,
Except an erring sister's shame.

Line 90.

Line 106.

Line 123

Line 418.

1 He laid his hand upon "the ocean's mane,"
And played familiar with his hoary locks.

POLLOK: The Course of Time, book iv. line 389.

The keenest pangs the wretched find

Are rapture to the dreary void,
The leafless desert of the mind,
The waste of feelings unemployed.

The Giaour. Line 957.

Better to sink beneath the shock
Than moulder piecemeal on the rock.

Line 969.

The cold in clime are cold in blood,
Their love can scarce deserve the name.

Line 1099.

I die, but first I have possess'd,
And come what may, I have been bless'd.

Line 1114.

She was a form of life and light

That seen, became a part of sight,

And rose, where'er I turn'd mine eye,
The morning-star of memory!

Yes, love indeed is light from heaven;
A spark of that immortal fire
With angels shared, by Alla given,

To lift from earth our low desire.

Know ye the land where the cypress and myrtle

Line 1127.

1

Are emblems of deeds that are done in their clime;
Where the rage of the vulture, the love of the turtle,
Now melt into sorrow, now madden to crime? 1
The Bride of Abydos. Canto i. Stanza 1.
Where the virgins are soft as the roses they twine,
And all save the spirit of man is divine?

Who hath not proved how feebly words essay
To fix one spark of beauty's heavenly ray?
Who doth not feel, until his failing sight
Faints into dimness with its own delight,

1 Know'st thou the land where the lemon-trees bloom,
Where the gold orange glows in the deep thicket's gloom,
Where a wind ever soft from the blue heaven blows,
And the groves are of laurel and myrtle and rose !

Ibid.

GOETHE: Wilhelm Meister

His changing cheek, his sinking heart, confess
The might, the majesty of loveliness?

The Bride of Abydos. Canto i. Stanza 6.

The light of love,' the purity of grace,

The mind, the music breathing from her face,2
The heart whose softness harmonized the whole, -
And oh, that eye was in itself a soul!

The blind old man of Scio's rocky isle.

Ibid.

Canto ii. Stanza 2.

Be thou the rainbow to the storms of life,
The evening beam that smiles the clouds away,
And tints to-morrow with prophetic ray!
He makes a solitude, and calls it peace! 8

Hark! to the hurried question of despair: "Where is my child?" an echo answers,

The fatal facility of the octosyllabic verse.

Stanza 20.

Ibid.

"Where? 4 Stanza 27.

The Corsair. Preface.

O'er the glad waters of the dark blue sea,
Our thoughts as boundless, and our souls as free,
Far as the breeze can bear, the billows foam,"
Survey our empire, and behold our home!
These are our realms, no limit to their sway, —
Our flag the sceptre all who meet obey.

The Corsair. Canto i. Stanza 1.

Oh who can tell, save he whose heart hath tried.

Ibid.

She walks the waters like a thing of life,

And seems to dare the elements to strife.

1 See Gray, page 382.

2 See Lovelace, page 259. Browne, page 218.

Stanza 3.

Solitudinem faciunt, pacem appellant (They make solitude, which they call peace). TACITUS: Agricola, c. 30.

4 I came to the place of my birth, and cried, "The friends of my youth, where are they?" And echo answered, "Where are they?"- Arabic MS. 5 See Churchill, page 413.

To all nations their empire will be dreadful, because their ships will sail wherever billows roll or winds can waft them. DALRYMPLE: Memoirs,

vol. iii. p. 152.

The power of thought, the magic of the mind!

For in that word, that fatal word, howe'er

We promise, hope, believe, — there breathes despair.

No words suffice the secret soul to show,
For truth denies all eloquence to woe.

Stanza 15.

Canto iii. Stanza 22.

He left a corsair's name to other times,
Link'd with one virtue and a thousand crimes.1

Lord of himself, — that heritage of woe!

Stanza 24.

Lara. Canto i. Stanza 2.

She walks in beauty, like the night
Of cloudless climes and starry skies;
And all that's best of dark and bright
Meet in her aspect and her eyes;

Thus mellow'd to that tender light

Which Heaven to gaudy day denies.2

Hebrew Melodies. She walks in Beauty.

The Assyrian came down like the wolf on the fold,
And his cohorts were gleaming in purple and gold.
The Destruction of Sennacherib.

It is the hour when from the boughs
The nightingale's high note is heard;
It is the hour when lovers' vows

Seem sweet in every whisper'd word.

1 See Burton, page 186.

2 The subject of these lines was Mrs. R. Wilmot. · iii. p. 7.

Parisina. Stanza 1.

Berry Memoirs, vol