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.