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For I was as it were a child of thee,
And trusted to thy billows far and near,
And laid

upon thy mane—as I do here.
Canto iv.

Stanza 184.


'Tis sweet to hear the watch-dog's honest bark

Bay deep-mouth'd welcome as we draw near home; 'Tis sweet to know there is an eye will mark

Our coming, and look brighter when we come ; 'Tis sweet to be awaken'd by the lark,

Or lulld by falling waters ; sweet the hum Of bees, the voice of girls, the song of birds,

The lisp of children, and their earliest words.


Sweet is the vintage, when the showering grapes

In Bacchanal profusion reel to earth, Purple and gushing : sweet are our escapes

From civic revelry to rural mirth; Sweet to the miser are his glittering heaps ;

Sweet to the father is his first-born's birth ; Sweet is revenge—especially to women, Pillage to soldiers, prize money to seamen.

Canto 1. Stanzas 123, 124.

Man's love is of man's life a thing apart,

'Tis woman's whole existence ; man may range

The court, camp, church, the vessel, and the mart,

Sword, gown, gain, glory, offer in exchange Pride, fame, ambition, to fill up his heart,

And few there are whom these cannot estrange ; Men have all these resources, we but one, To love again, and be again undone,

Canto 1.

Stanza 194.

I was most ready to return a blow, And would not brook at all this sort of thing, In my hot youth, when George the Third was king.

Stanza 212.

So for a good old-gentlemanly vice,
I think I must take up with avarice.

Stanza 216.

Oh ye! who teach the ingenuous youth of nations

Holland, France, England, Germany, or SpainI pray ye flog them upon all occasions, I It mends their morals-never mind the pain.

Stanza 1.

Canto 11.

Then rose from sea to sky the wild farewell —

Then shriek’d the timid, and stood still the brave,Then some leap'd overboard with dreadful yell,

As eager to anticipate their grave;
And the sea yawn'd around her like a hell,

And down she suck'd with her the whirling wave,


Like one who grapples with his enemy,
And strives to strangle him before he die.

Canto 11.

Stanza 52.

And thus like to an angel o'er the dying

Who die in righteousness, she lean’d.

Stanza 144

Ceres presents a plate of vermicelli, —

For love must be sustain'd like flesh and bloodWhile Bacchus pours out wine, or hands a jelly : Eggs, oysters, too, are amatory


Stanza 170.


Man, being reasonable, must get drunk ;

The best of life is but intoxication :
Glory, the grape, love, gold, in these are sunk

The hopes of all men, and of every nation Without their sap, how branchless were the trunk

Of life's strange tree, so fruitful on occasion : But to return, -Get very

drunk ;

and when You wake with headach, you shall see what then.

Stanza 179.

An infant, when it gazes on a light,

A child, the moment when it drains the breast, A devotee when soars the host in sight,

An Arab with a stranger for a guest.
A sailor when the prize has struck in fight,

A miser filling his most hoarded chest,

Feel rapture, but not such true joy are reaping
As they who watch o'er what they love while sleeping.

Canto il.

Stanza 196.

Alas! the love of women! it is known

To be a lovely and a fearful thing ; For all of theirs upon that die is thrown,

And if 'tis lost, life hath no more to bring To them but mockeries of the past alone,

And their revenge is as the tiger's spring, Deadly, and quick, and crushing ; yet, as real Torture is theirs—what they inflict they feel !

Stanza 199.

O love! what is it in this world of ours

Which makes it fatal to be loved ? Ah! why With cypress

branches hast thou wreathed thy bowers, And made thy best interpreter a sigh! As those who dote on odours pluck the lowers,

And place them on their breast—but place to die Thus the frail beings we would fondly cherish Are laid within our bosoms but to perish.

Stanza 2.

Canto III.

And as the spot where they appear he nears,

Surprised at these unwonted signs of idling,
He hears, alas! no music of the spheres,
But an unhallow'd, earthly sound of fiddling.

Stanza 28.

The cubless tigress in her jungle raging

Is dreadful to the shepherd and the flock;
The ocean, when its yeasty war is waging,

Is awful to the vessel near the rock;
But violent things will sooner bear assuaging,

Their fury being spent by its own shock,
Than the stern, single, deep, and wordless ire
Of a strong human heart, and in a sire.

Canto III. Stanza 58.


A lady with her daughters or her nieces
Shine like a guinea and seven-shilling pieces.

Stanza 60. The isles of Greece, the isles of Greece !

Where burning Sappho loved and sung, Where


the arts of war and peace,-
Where Delos rose, and Phoebus sprung!
Eternal summer gilds them yet,
But all, except their sun, is set.

Stanza 86.

Some kinder casuists are pleased to say,

In nameless print, that I have no devotion ; But set those persons down with me to pray, And you shall see who has the


notion Of getting into heaven the shortest way ;

My altars are the mountains and the ocean, Earth, air, stars,—all that springs from the great Whole,

Who hath produced and will receive the soul.

Stanza 104

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