George Gordon Noel Byron

Yet even her tyranny had such a grace,
The women pardoned all, except her face.

Yet even her tyranny had such a grace,
The women pardoned all, except her face.

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.

A feast not profuse but elegant; more of salt [refinement] than
of expense.
[Lat., Non ampliter, sed munditer read more

A feast not profuse but elegant; more of salt [refinement] than
of expense.
[Lat., Non ampliter, sed munditer convivium; plus salis quam
sumptus.]

Solitary trees, if they grow at all, grow strong.

Solitary trees, if they grow at all, grow strong.

A mighty mass of brick, and smoke, and shipping,
Dirty and dusty, but as wide as eye
read more

A mighty mass of brick, and smoke, and shipping,
Dirty and dusty, but as wide as eye
Could reach, with here and there a sail just skipping
In sight, then lost amidst the forestry
Of masts; a wilderness of steeples peeping
On tiptoe through their sea-coal canopy;
A huge, dun cupola, like a foolscap crown
On a fool's head--and there is London Town.