George Gordon Noel Byron Quotes

Place me on Sunium's marbled steep,
Where nothing save the waves and I
May hear our mutual read more

Place me on Sunium's marbled steep,
Where nothing save the waves and I
May hear our mutual murmurs sweep;
There, swan-like, let me sing and die.

But 'midst the crowd, the hum, the shock of men,
To hear, to see, to feel, and to possess,
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But 'midst 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.

The truly brave,
When they behold the brave oppressed with odds,
Are touched with a desire to read more

The truly brave,
When they behold the brave oppressed with odds,
Are touched with a desire to shield and save:--
A mixture of wild beasts and demi-gods
Are they--now furious as the sweeping wave,
Now moved with pity; even as sometimes nods
The rugged tree unto the summer wind,
Compassion breathes along the savage mind.

I stood in Venice, on the Bridge of Sighs;
A palace and a prison on each hand;
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I stood in Venice, on the Bridge of Sighs;
A palace and a prison on each hand;
I saw from out the wave of her structure's rise
As from the stroke of the enchanter's wand:
A thousand years their cloudy wings expand
Around me, and a dying Glory smiles
O'er the far times, when many a subject land
Look'd to the winged Lion's marble pines,
Where Venice sate in state, throned on her hundred isles.

By all that's good and glorious.

By all that's good and glorious.

And circumstance, that unspiritual god,
And miscreator, makes and helps along
Our coming evils, with a critch-like read more

And circumstance, that unspiritual god,
And miscreator, makes and helps along
Our coming evils, with a critch-like rod,
Whose touch turns hope to dust--the dust we all have trod.

As the lone Angler, patient man,
At Mewry-Water, or the Banne,
Leaves off, against his placid wish,
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As the lone Angler, patient man,
At Mewry-Water, or the Banne,
Leaves off, against his placid wish,
Impaling worms to torture fish.

Sweet is old wine in bottles, ale in barrels.

Sweet is old wine in bottles, ale in barrels.

And her face so fair
Stirr'd with her dream, as rose-leaves with the air.

And her face so fair
Stirr'd with her dream, as rose-leaves with the air.

I stood
Among them, but not of them: in a shroud
Of thoughts which were not their read more

I stood
Among them, but not of them: in a shroud
Of thoughts which were not their thoughts.