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BYRON THE VOLUPTUARY
Too avid of earth's bliss, he was of those
Whom Delight flies because they give her chase.
Only the odour of her wild hair blows
Back in their faces hungering for her face.
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ANTONY AT ACTIUM
He holds a dubious balance:—yet that scale,
Whose freight the world is, surely shall prevail?
No; Cleopatra droppeth into this
One counterpoising orient sultry kiss.
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ART
The thousand painful steps at last are trod,
At last the temple's difficult door we win;
But perfect on his pedestal, the god
Freezes us hopeless when we enter in.
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