Quote #66
Such is the aspect of this shore; 'T is Greece, but living Greece no more! So coldly sweet, so deadly fair, We start, for soul is wanting there.
More from Lord Byron
- He who hath bent him o'er the dead Ere the first day of death is fled,- The first dark day of nothingness, The last of danger and distress,…
- Shrine of the mighty! can it be That this is all remains of thee?
- Hark! to the hurried question of despair: 'Where is my child?'-an echo answers, 'Where?'
- For freedom's battle, once begun, Bequeath'd by bleeding sire to son, Though baffled oft, is ever won.
- Mark! where his carnage and his conquests cease! He makes a solitude, and calls it - peace!
- And lovelier things have mercy shown To every failing but their own, And every woe a tear can claim Except an erring sister's shame.
- Be thou the rainbow to the storms of life, The evening beam that smiles the clouds away, And tints to-morrow with prophetic ray!
- The keenest pangs the wretched find Are rapture to the dreary void, The leafless desert of the mind, The waste of feelings unemployed.