And there was mounting in hot haste. -- Lord Byron (1788-1824) -

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• Or whispering with white lips, "The foe! They come!
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• Ada! sole daughter of my house and heart. -- Lord Byron (1788-1824) -
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• He rush'd into the field, and foremost fighting fell.
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• In solitude, where we are least alone. -- Lord Byron (1788-1824) -
  Childe Harold's Pilgrimage, Canto iii, Stanza...