A Thousand Years Scarce Serve To Form A State: An Hour May Lay It In The Dust.

A schoolboy's tale, the wonder of an hour!
-- Lord Byron (1788-1824) -- Childe Harold's Pilgrimage, Canto ii, Stanza 2...
Ah, happy years! once more who would not be a boy?
-- Lord Byron (1788-1824) -- Childe Harold's Pilgrimage, Canto ii, Stanza 23...
Dim with the mist of years, gray flits the shade of power.
-- Lord Byron (1788-1824) -- Childe Harold's Pilgrimage, Canto ii, Stanza 2...
The dome of thought, the palace of the soul.
-- Lord Byron (1788-1824) -- Childe Harold's Pilgrimage, Canto ii, Stanza 6...
Where'er we tread, 't is haunted, holy ground.
-- Lord Byron (1788-1824) -- Childe Harold's Pilgrimage, Canto ii, Stanza 88...
Coop'd in their winged, sea-girt citadel.
-- Lord Byron (1788-1824) -- Childe Harold's Pilgrimage, Canto ii, Stanza 28...
Land of lost gods and godlike men.
-- Lord Byron (1788-1824) -- Childe Harold's Pilgrimage, Canto ii, Stanza 85...
Gone, glimmering through the dream of things that were.
-- Lord Byron (1788-1824) -- Childe Harold's Pilgrimage, Canto ii, Stanza 2...
Where Venice sate in state, throned on her hundred isles.
-- Lord Byron (1788-1824) -- Childe Harold's Pilgrimage, Canto iv, Stanza 1...