George Gordon Noel Byron ( 10 of 329 )
Fools are my theme, let satire be my song.
Fools are my theme, let satire be my song.
Eternal Spirit of the chainless Mind!
Brightest in dungeons, Liberty! thou art,
For there thy habitation is read more
Eternal Spirit of the chainless Mind!
Brightest in dungeons, Liberty! thou art,
For there thy habitation is the heart--
The heart which love of thee alone can bind;
And when thy sons to fetters are consign'd--
To fetters and damp vault's dayless gloom,
Their country conquers with their martyrdom.
- Lord Byron (George Gordon Noel Byron),
A quiet conscience makes one so serene!
Christians have burnt each other, quite persuaded
That all the read more
A quiet conscience makes one so serene!
Christians have burnt each other, quite persuaded
That all the Apostles would have done as they did.
Her eye (I'm very fond of handsome eyes)
Was large and dark, suppressing half its fire
Until read more
Her eye (I'm very fond of handsome eyes)
Was large and dark, suppressing half its fire
Until she spoke, then through its soft disguise
Flash'd an expression more of pride than ire,
And love than either; and there would arise,
A something in them which was not desire,
But would have been, perhaps, but for the soul,
Which struggled through and chansten'd down the whole.
An infant when it gazes on a light,
A child the moment when it drains the breast,
read more
An infant when it gazes on a light,
A child the moment when it drains the breast,
A devotee when soars the Host in sight,
An Arab with a stranger for a guest,
A sailor when the prize has struck in fight,
A miser filling his most hoarded chest,
Feel rapture; but not such true joy are reaping
As they who watch o'er what they love while sleeping.
On with the dance! let joy be unconfin'd;
No sleep till morn, when Youth and Pleasure meet.
On with the dance! let joy be unconfin'd;
No sleep till morn, when Youth and Pleasure meet.
Endearing Waltz--to thy more melting tune
Bow Irish jig, and ancient rigadoon.
Scotch reels, avaunt! and country-dance read more
Endearing Waltz--to thy more melting tune
Bow Irish jig, and ancient rigadoon.
Scotch reels, avaunt! and country-dance forego
Your future claims to each fantastic toe!
Waltz--Waltz alone--both legs and arms demands,
Liberal of feet, and lavish of her hands.
All human history attests
That happiness for man,--the hungry sinner!--
Since Eve ate apples, much depends on read more
All human history attests
That happiness for man,--the hungry sinner!--
Since Eve ate apples, much depends on dinner.
Dim with the mist of years, gray flits the shade of power.
Dim with the mist of years, gray flits the shade of power.
Ah! happy years! once more who would not be a boy!
Ah! happy years! once more who would not be a boy!
