Ambition was my idol, which was br… Before the shrines of Sorrow and… And the two last have left me many… O’er which reflection may be made… Now, like Friar Bacon’s brazen he…

‘There is a tide in the affairs of… Which,—taken at the flood,’—you kn… And most of us have found it now a… At least we think so, though but f… The moment, till too late to come…

Farewell to the Land where the gl… Arose and o’ershadow’d the earth w… She abandons me now—but the page o… The brightest or blackest, is fill… I have warr’d with a world which v…

Oh, Wellington! (or 'Villainton’—… Sounds the heroic syllables both w… France could not even conquer your… But punn’d it down to this facetio… Beating or beaten she will laugh t…

In the valley of the waters we wep… When the host of the stranger made… And our heads on our bosoms all dr… And our hearts were so full of the… The song they demanded in vain—it…

Hills of Annesley, bleak and barr… Where my thoughtless childhood str… How the northern tempests, warring… Howl above thy tufted shade! Now no more, the hours beguiling,

Fare thee well! and if for ever, Still for ever, fare thee well: Even though unforgiving, never 'Gainst thee shall my heart rebel. Would that breast were bared befor…

My dear Mr. Murray, You’re in a damn 'd hurry, To set up this ultimate Canto; But (if they don’t rob us) You’ll see Mr. Hobhouse

LIV But now I will begin my poem. 'Ti… Perhaps a little strange, if not q… That from the first of Cantos up… I’ve not begun what we have to go…

O Love! O Glory! what are ye who… Around us ever, rarely to alight? There’s not a meteor in the polar… Of such transcendent and more flee… Chill, and chain’d to cold earth,…

The spell is broke; the charm is f… Thus is it with life’s fitful feve… We madly smile when we should groa… Delirium is our best deceiver. Each lucid interval of thought

The world is a bundle of hay, Mankind are the asses who pull; Each tugs it a different way, And the greatest of all is John B…