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• There was a sound of revelry by night, And Belgium's capital had gather'd then Her beauty and her chivalry, and bright The lamps shone o'er fair women and brave men.
  A thousand hearts beat happily; and when Music arose with its voluptuous swell, Soft eyes look'd love to eyes which spake again, And all went merry as a marriage bell....
• But hush! hark! a deep sound strikes like a rising knell!
  Did ye not hear it?--No! 't was but the wind, Or the car rattling o'er the stony street....
• She walks in beauty, like the night Of cloudless climes and starry skie
  And all that 's best of dark and bright Meet in her aspect and her eye...
• Oh that the desert were my dwelling-place, With one fair spirit for my minister, That I might all forget the human race, And hating no one, love but only her!
  -- Lord Byron (1788-1824) -- Childe Harold's Pilgrimage, Canto iv, Stanza 177...
• History, with all her volumes vast, Hath but one page.
  -- Lord Byron (1788-1824) -- Childe Harold's Pilgrimage, Canto iv, Stanza 108...
• All tenantless, save to the crannying wind.
  -- Lord Byron (1788-1824) -- Childe Harold's Pilgrimage, Canto iii, Stanza 47...
• Grieving, if aught inanimate e'er grieves, Over the unreturning brave.
  -- Lord Byron (1788-1824) -- Childe Harold's Pilgrimage, Canto iii, Stanza 27...
• Farewell! a word that must be, and hath been,-- A sound which makes us linge
  yet--farewell! -- Lord Byron (1788-1824) -- Childe Harold's Pilgrimage, Canto iv, Stanza 186...
• Italia! O Italia! thou who hast The fatal gift of beauty.
  -- Lord Byron (1788-1824) -- Childe Harold's Pilgrimage, Canto iv, Stanza 42...