C.N. Douglas, comp. Forty Thousand Quotations: Prose and Poetical. 1917.

Farewell

The bitter word which closed all earthly friendships, and finished every feast of love,—farewell.

Pollok.

Farewell! “But not for ever.”

Cowper.

Sweets to the sweet; farewell!

Shakespeare.

Farewell, happy fields,
Where joy forever dwells; hail, horrors!

Milton.

So sweetly she bade me adieu,
I thought that she bade me return.

Shenstone.

To all, to each, a fair good-night,
And pleasing dreams, and slumbers light.

Scott.

Fare thee well! and if for ever,
Still for ever, fare thee well.

Byron.

Farewell! if ever fondest prayer
For other’s weal availed on high,
Mine will not all be lost in air
But waft thy name beyond the sky.

Byron.

Farewell the tranquil mind! farewell content!
Farewell the plumed troops, and the big wars
That make ambition virtue.

Shakespeare.

Fare thee well;
The elements be kind to thee, and make
Thy spirits all of comfort!

Shakespeare.

Farewell! a word that must be, and hath been—
A sound which makes us linger;—yet—farewell.

Byron.

Farewell!
For in that word,—that fatal word,—howe’er
We promise—hope—believe,—there breathes despair.

Byron.

One kind kiss before we part,
Drop a tear, and bid adieu;
Though we sever, my fond heart
Till we meet shall pant for you.

Robert Dodsley.

’Twere vain to speak, to weep, to sigh;
Oh, more than tears of blood can tell
When wrung from guilt’s expiring eye,
Are in the word farewell—farewell.

Byron.

The happy never say, and never hear said, farewell.

Landor.

Where thou art gone, adieus and farewells are a sound unknown.

Cowper.

Gude nicht, and joy be wi’ you a’.

Lady Nairne.

Give me your hand first; fare you well.

Shakespeare.

“Adieu,” she cries, and waved her lily hand.

Gay.

Farewell, and stand fast.

Shakespeare.

So, farewell hope, and with hope farewell fear,
Farewell remorse: all good to me is lost.

Milton.

Here’s a sigh to those who love me,
And a smile to those who hate;
And, whatever sky’s above me,
Here’s a heart for ev’ry fate.

Byron.

One struggle more, and I am free
From pangs that rend my heart in twain;
One last long sigh to love and thee,
Then back to busy life again.

Byron.

Then fare thee well, deceitful maid,
’Twere vain and fruitless to regret thee;
Nor hope nor memory yield their aid,
But time may teach me to forget thee.

Byron.

Let’s not unman each other—part at once;
All farewells should be sudden, when forever,
Else they make an eternity of moments,
And clog the last sad sands of life with tears.

Byron.

Farewell the plumed troop, and the big wars,
That make ambition virtue! O, farewell!
Farewell the neighing steed, and the shrill trump.
The spirit-stirring drum, the ear-piercing fife.

Shakespeare.

Farewell, a long farewell, to all my greatness!
This is the state of man; To-day he puts forth
The tender leaves of hope; to-morrow blossoms
And bears his blushing honors thick upon him:
The third day comes a frost, a killing frost;
And—when he thinks, good easy man, full surely
His greatness is a-ripening,—nips his root,
And then he falls as I do.

Shakespeare.

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