George Gordon Noel Byron ( 10 of 329 )
A thirst for gold,
The beggar's vice, which can but overwhelm
The meanest hearts.
A thirst for gold,
The beggar's vice, which can but overwhelm
The meanest hearts.
Not fewer than three nor more than nine.
[Lat., Neque pauciores tribus, neque plures novem.]
Not fewer than three nor more than nine.
[Lat., Neque pauciores tribus, neque plures novem.]
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.
Sweet is old wine in bottles, ale in barrels.
Sweet is old wine in bottles, ale in barrels.
She was a good deal shock'd; not shock'd at tears,
For women shed and use them at their liking;
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She was a good deal shock'd; not shock'd at tears,
For women shed and use them at their liking;
But there is something when man's eye appears
Wet, still more disagreeable and striking.
Venice once was dear,
The pleasant place of all festivity,
The revel of the earth, the masque read more
Venice once was dear,
The pleasant place of all festivity,
The revel of the earth, the masque of Italy.
She bears her down majestically near,
Speed on her prow, and terror in her tier.
She bears her down majestically near,
Speed on her prow, and terror in her tier.
And, after all, what is a lie? 'Tis but
The truth in masquerade.
And, after all, what is a lie? 'Tis but
The truth in masquerade.
That all-softening, overpowering knell,
The tocsin of the soul--the dinner bell.
That all-softening, overpowering knell,
The tocsin of the soul--the dinner bell.
Like the lost pleiad seen no more below.
Like the lost pleiad seen no more below.
