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John Bartlett (1820–1905).  Familiar Quotations, 10th ed.  1919.
 
Page 547
 
 
George Gordon Noel Byron, Lord Byron. (1788–1824) (continued)
 
5668
    Scion of chiefs and monarchs, where art thou?
Fond hope of many nations, art thou dead?
Could not the grave forget thee, and lay low
Some less majestic, less beloved head?
          Childe Harold’s Pilgrimage, Canto iv. Stanza 168.
5669
    Oh that the desert were my dwelling-place, 1
With one fair spirit for my minister,
That I might all forget the human race,
And hating no one, love but only her!
          Childe Harold’s Pilgrimage, Canto iv. Stanza 177.
5670
    There is a pleasure in the pathless woods;
There is a rapture on the lonely shore;
There is society, where none intrudes,
By the deep sea, and music in its roar:
I love not man the less, but Nature more.
          Childe Harold’s Pilgrimage, Canto iv. Stanza 178.
5671
    Roll on, thou deep and dark blue ocean, roll!
Ten thousand fleets sweep over thee in vain;
Man marks the earth with ruin,—his control
Stops with the shore.
          Childe Harold’s Pilgrimage, Canto iv. Stanza 179.
5672
    He sinks into thy depths with bubbling groan,
Without a grave, unknell’d, uncoffin’d, and unknown. 2
          Childe Harold’s Pilgrimage, Canto iv. Stanza 179.
5673
    Time writes no wrinkle on thine azure brow,—
Such as creation’s dawn beheld, thou rollest now. 3
          Childe Harold’s Pilgrimage, Canto iv. Stanza 182.
5674
    Thou glorious mirror, where the Almighty’s form
Glasses itself in tempests.
          Childe Harold’s Pilgrimage, Canto iv. Stanza 183.
5675
    And I have loved thee, Ocean! and my joy
Of youthful sports was on thy breast to be
Borne, like thy bubbles, onward; from a boy.
 
Note 1.
See Cowper, Quotation 51. [back]
Note 2.
See Pope, Quotation 326. [back]
Note 3.
And thou vast ocean, on whose awful face
Time’s iron feet can print no ruin-trace.
Robert Montgomery: The Omnipresence of the Deity. [back]
 

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