To Hear The World Applaud The Hollow

When Byron's Eyes Were Shut In Death, We Bow'd Our Head And Held Our Breath. He Taught Us Little; But Our Soul Had Felt His Like A Thunder Roll. . . . We Watch'd The Fount Of Fiery Life Which Serv'd For That Titanic Life.

The Power Of The Latin Classic Is In Character , That Of The Greek Is In Beauty . Now Character Is Capable Of Being Taught, Learnt, And Assimilated: Beauty Hardly.

All Pains The Immortal Spirit Must Endure, All Weakness That Impairs, All Griefs That Bow, Find Their Sole Voice In That Victorious Brow.

A Wanderer Is Man From His Birth. He Was Born In A Ship On The Breast Of The River Of Time.

How Many Minds--almost All The Great Ones--were Formed In Secrecy And Solitude!