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Yet truth will sometimes lend her noblest fires,
And decorate the verse herself inspires :
This fact, in virtue's name, let Crabbe attest,
Though Nature's sternest painter, yet the best.

English Bards and Scotch Reriewers. Line 839.
Maid of Athens, ere we part,
Give, oh give me back my heart !

Maid of Athens Had sigh'd to many, though he loved but one.

Childe Harold's Pilgrimage. Canto i. stanza 5. If ancient tales say true, nor wrong these holy men.

Stanza 7. Maidens, like moths, are ever caught by glare, And Mammon wins his way where seraphs might despair.

Stanza 9. Such partings break the heart they fondly hope to heal.

Stanza 10. Might shake the saintship of an anchorite. Stanza 11.

Adieu! adieu! my native shore
Fades o'er the waters blue.

Stanza 13.

My native land, good night!

ibid.

O Christ! it is a goodly sight to see
What Heaven hath done for this delicious land.

Stanza 15

In hope to merit heaven by making earth a hell.

Stanza 20.

Stanza 40.

By Heaven! it is a splendid sight to see
For one who hath no friend, no brother there.
Still from the fount of joy's delicious springs
Some bitter o'er the flowers its bubbling venom flings.'

Stanza 8?.

1 Medio de fonte leporum Surgit amari aliquid quod in ipsis floribus angat (In the midst of the fountain of wit there arises something bitter, which stings in the very flowers). — LUCRETIUS: iv. 1133.

War, war is still the cry,

war even to the knife!” 1

Childe Harold's Pilgrimage. Canto i. Stanza 86. Gone, glimmering through the dream of things that were.

Canto ii. Stanza 2. A schoolboy's tale, the wonder of an hour!

Ibid. Dim with the mist of years, gray flits the shade of power.

Ibid. The dome of thought, the palace of the soul. Ah, happy years ! once more who would not be a boy?

Stanza 6

Stanza 23.

Stanza 24.

None are so desolate but something dear,
Dearer than self, possesses or possess'd
A thought, and claims the homage of a tear.
But ʼmidst 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.

Stanza 26.

Stanza 28.

Coop'd in their winged, sea-girt citadel.
Fair Greece! sad relic of departed worth!
Immortal, though no more! though fallen, great!

Stanza 73.

Stanza 76.

Hereditary bondsmen! know ye not,
Vho would be free, themselves must strike the blow?
A thousand years scarce serve to form a state:
An hour may lay it in the dust.
Lazad of lost gods and godlike men.
Whz ere'er we tread, 't is haunted, holy ground.
Age shakes Athena's tower, but spares gray Marathon.

Stanza 84.

Stanza 85.

Stanza 88.

Ibid.

ar even to the knife” was the reply of Palafox, the governor of Sarago

S sa when summoned to surrender by the French, who besieged that city in 1808.

* See Waller, page 221.

Ada! sole daughter of my house and heart.

Childe Harold's Pilgrimage. Canto iii. Stanzu 1 Once more upon the waters ! yet once more! And the waves bound beneath me as a steed That knows his rider.

Stanza 2 I ain as a weed Flung from the rock, on Ocean's foam to sail Where'er the surge may sweep, the tempest's breath prevail.

Ibid He who grown aged in this world of woe, In deeds, not years, piercing the depths of life, So that no wonder waits him.

Stanza 5,

Years steal
Fire from the mind as vigour from the limb,
And life's enchanted cup but sparkles near the brim.

Stanza 8.
There was a sound of revelry by night,
And Belgium's capital had gather'd then
Her beauty and her chivalry, and bright
The lamps shone o'er fair women and brave men.
A thousand hearts beat happily; and when
Music arose with its voluptuous swell,
Soft eyes look'd love to eyes which spake again,
And all went merry as a marriage bell.

Stanza 21 But hush! hark! a deep sound strikes like a rising knell! Did ye not hear it ? No! ’t was but the wind, Or the car rattling o'er the stony street. On with the dance ! let joy be unconfined; No sleep till morn, when Youth and Pleasure meet To chase the glowing hours with flying feet. He rush'd into the field, and foremost fighting fell.

Sianza 23. And there was mounting in hot haste.

Stanza 25.

Stanza 22.

1 See Sheridan, page 443.

Or whispering with white lips, “The foe! They come! they come !"

Childe Harold's Pilgrimage. Canto . Stanza 25. Grieving, if aught inanimate e'er grieves, Over the unreturning brave. Battle's magnificently stern array.

Stanza 28. And thus the heart will break, yet brokenly live on.

Stanza 27.

Stanza 32.

Stanza 42.

Stanza 45.

But quiet to quick bosoms is a hell.
He who ascends to mountain-tops shall find
The loftiest peaks most wrapt in clouds and snow;
He who surpasses or subdues mankind
Must look down on the hate of those below.
All tenantless, save to the crannying wind.
The castled crag of Drachenfels
Frowns o'er the wide and winding Rhine.

He had kept
The whiteness of his soul, and thus men o'er him wept.

Stunza 47.

Stanza 55.

Stanza 57.

Stanzu 70.

Stanza 71.

But there are wanderers o’er Eternity Whose bark drives on and on, and anchor'd ne'er shall be. By the blue rushing of the arrowy Rhone. I live not in myself, but I become Portion of that around me; 1 and to me High mountains are a feeling, but the hum 0 1 human cities torture.

Stanza 72 This quiet sail is as a noiseless wing To waft me from distraction.

Stanza 85.

On the ear
Drops the light drip of the suspended oar.

Stanza 86.

1 I am a part of all that I have met. – TENNYSON: Ulysses.

a dark

Stanza 92.

All is concentr'd in a life intense,
Where not a beam, nor air, nor leaf is lost,
But hath a part of being.

Childe Harold's Pilgrimage. Canto iii. Stanza 89. In solitude, where we are least alone.

Stansa 90. The sky is changed, — and such a change! O night And storm and darkness! ye are wondrous strong, Yet lovely in your strength, as is the light Of

eye in woman! Far along, From peak to peak, the rattling crags among, Leaps the live thunder.

Exhausting thought, And hiving wisdom with each studious year. Stanza 107. Sapping a solemn creed with solemn sneer.

1ሁ

16id. I have not loved the world, nor the world me.” Stanza 113.

I stood Among them, but not of them ; in a shroud Of thoughts which were not their thoughts. Ibid. I stood in Venice on the Bridge of Sighs, A palace and a prison on each hand. Canto iv. Stanza 1. Where Venice sate in state, throned on her hundred isles.

Ibid. Venice once was dear, The pleasant place of all festivity, The revel of the earth, the masque of Italy.

Stanza 3. 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 suc a seed.

Stansa 10.

1 See Gibbon, page 430.

2 Good bye, proud world; I'm going home.
Thou art not my friend, and I'm not thine.

EMERSON : Good Bye, proud Worlek See Johnson, page 374.

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