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LORD BYRON (GEORGE GORDON NOEL BYRON)
English poet
(1788 - 1824)
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Exhausting thought,
  And having wisdom with each studious year.
      - Childe Harold (canto III, st. 107) [Study]

Sapping a solemn creed with a solemn sneer.
      - Childe Harold (canto III, st. 107) [Sneer]

Among them, but not of them.
      - Childe Harold (canto III, st. 113)
        [Solitude]

I have not loved the world, not the world me;
  I have not flatter'd its rank breath, nor bow'd
    To its idolatries a patient knee.
      - Childe Harold (canto III, st. 113) [World]

I stood
  Among them, but not of them: in a shroud
    Of thoughts which were not their thoughts.
      - Childe Harold (canto III, st. 113)
        [Thought]

For I am a weed,
  Flung from the rock, on Ocean's foam, to sail,
    Where'er the surge may sweep, the tempest's breath prevail.
      - Childe Harold (canto III, st. 2) [Destiny]

Once more upon the waters! yet once more!
  And the waves bound beneath me as a steed
    That knows his rider.
      - Childe Harold (canto III, st. 2) [Ocean]

Still must I on, for I am as a weed,
  Flung from the rock, on Ocean's foam, to sail
    Where'er the surge may sweep.
      - Childe Harold (canto III, st. 2) [Weeds]

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 a dark eye in woman! Far along,
        From peak to peak the rattling crags among
          Leaps the live thunder!
      - Childe Harold (canto III, st. 2) [Thunder]

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.
      - Childe Harold (canto III, st. 21)
        [Dancing]

Music arose with its voluptuous swell,
  Soft eyes look'd love to eyes which spake again,
    And all went merry as a marriage bell.
      - Childe Harold (canto III, st. 21) [Music]

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.
      - Childe Harold (canto III, st. 21)
        [Festivities]

On with the dance! let joy be unconfin'd;
  No sleep till morn, when Youth and Pleasure meet.
      - Childe Harold (canto III, st. 22)
        [Dancing]

When Youth and Pleasure meet
  To chase the glowing Hours with flying feet.
      - Childe Harold (canto III, st. 22) [Time]

And there was mounting in hot haste: the steed,
  The mustering squadron, and the clattering car,
    Went pouring forward with impetuous speed,
      And swiftly forming in the ranks of war;
        And the deep thunder peal on peal, afar
          And near; the beat of the alarming drum
            Roused up the soldier ere the morning star;
              While throng'd the citizens with terror dumb,
                Or whispering with white lips--"The foe! they come! they come!"
      - Childe Harold (canto III, st. 25) [War]

Battle's magnificently stern array!
      - Childe Harold (canto III, st. 28) [War]

Did man compute
  Existence by enjoyment, and count o'er
    Such hours 'gainst years of life, say, would he name threescore?
      - Childe Harold (canto III, st. 34) [Life]

Like to the apples on the Dead Sea's shore,
  All ashes to the taste.
      - Childe Harold (canto III, st. 34)
        [Apples : Disappointment]

But quiet to quick bosoms is a hell,
  And there hath been thy bane.
      - Childe Harold (canto III, st. 42)
        [Hell : Repose]

He who surpasses or subdues mankind,
  Must look down on the hate of those below.
      - Childe Harold (canto III, st. 45)
        [Conquest : Proverbs]

What want these outlaws conquerors should have
  But History's purchased page to call them great?
      - Childe Harold (canto III, st. 48)
        [History]

He has grown aged in this world of woe,
  In deeds, not years, piercing the depths of life.
    So that no wonder waits him.
      - Childe Harold (canto III, st. 5) [Age]

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.
      - Childe Harold (canto III, st. 55)
        [Rhine River]

He had kept
  The whiteness of his soul, and thus men o'er him wept.
      - Childe Harold (canto III, st. 57)
        [Mourning]

Is it not better, then, to be alone,
  And love Earth only for its earthly sake?
    By the blue rushing of the arrowy Rhone
      Or the pure bosom of its nursing lake.
      - Childe Harold (canto III, st. 71)
        [Rhone River]


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