The hell of waters! where they howl and hiss,

And boil in endless torture.

Childe Harold's Pilgrimage. Canto iv. Stanza 69.

Then farewell Horace, whom I hated so,—

Not for thy faults, but mine.

Childe Harold's Pilgrimage. Canto iv. Stanza 77.

[[546]]

O Rome! my country! city of the soul!

Childe Harold's Pilgrimage. Canto iv. Stanza 78.

The Niobe of nations! there she stands.