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And There Was Mounting In Hot Haste.
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And there was mounting in hot haste.
-- Lord Byron (1788-1824)
-- Childe Harold's Pilgrimage, Canto iii, Stanza 25
Related:
Or whispering with white lips, "The foe! They come!
hey come!" -- Lord Byron (1788-1824) -- Childe Harold's Pilgrimage, Canto iii, Stanza 25...
All tenantless, save to the crannying wind.
-- Lord Byron (1788-1824) -- Childe Harold's Pilgrimage, Canto iii, Stanza 47...
Ada! sole daughter of my house and heart.
-- Lord Byron (1788-1824) -- Childe Harold's Pilgrimage, Canto iii, Stanza 1...
And thus the heart will break, yet brokenly live on.
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Battle's magnificently stern array.
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But quiet to quick bosoms is a hell.
-- Lord Byron (1788-1824) -- Childe Harold's Pilgrimage, Canto iii, Stanza 42...
By the blue rushing of the arrowy Rhone.
-- Lord Byron (1788-1824) -- Childe Harold's Pilgrimage, Canto iii, Stanza 71...
He rush'd into the field, and foremost fighting fell.
-- Lord Byron (1788-1824) -- Childe Harold's Pilgrimage, Canto iii, Stanza 23...
In solitude, where we are least alone.
-- Lord Byron (1788-1824) -- Childe Harold's Pilgrimage, Canto iii, Stanza 90...