There Is A Pleasure In The Pathless Woods; There Is A Rapture On The Lonely Shore

Heaven gives its favourites--early death.
-- Lord Byron (1788-1824) -- Childe Harold's Pilgrimage, Canto iv, Stanza 102...
Man! Thou pendulum betwixt a smile and tear.
-- Lord Byron (1788-1824) -- Childe Harold's Pilgrimage, Canto iv, Stanza 109...
Ungrateful Florence! Dante sleeps afar, Like Scipio, buried by the upbraiding shore.
-- Lord Byron (1788-1824) -- Childe Harold's Pilgrimage, Canto iv, Stanza 57...
I see before me the gladiator lie.
-- Lord Byron (1788-1824) -- Childe Harold's Pilgrimage, Canto iv, Stanza 140...
Roll on, thou deep and dark blue ocean, roll! Ten thousand fleets sweep over thee in vai
Man marks the earth with ruin,--his control Stops with the shore....
Adieu! adieu! my native shore Fades o'er the waters blue.
-- Lord Byron (1788-1824) -- Childe Harold's Pilgrimage, Canto i, Stanza 13...
The hell of waters! where they howl and hiss, And boil in endless torture.
-- Lord Byron (1788-1824) -- Childe Harold's Pilgrimage, Canto iv, Stanza 69...
Thou glorious mirror, where the Almighty's form Glasses itself in tempests.
-- Lord Byron (1788-1824) -- Childe Harold's Pilgrimage, Canto iv, Stanza 183...
Where Venice sate in state, throned on her hundred isles.
-- Lord Byron (1788-1824) -- Childe Harold's Pilgrimage, Canto iv, Stanza 1...