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• Fair Greece! sad relic of departed worth! Immortal, though no more!
  hough fallen, great!...
• So we 'll go no more a-roving So late into the night. -- Lord Byron (1788-1824) -- So we 'll go
• The isles of Greece, the isles of Greece! Where burning Sappho loved and sung.
  . . . . . Eternal summer gilds them yet, But all except their sun is set....
• Egeria! sweet creation of some heart Which found no mortal resting-place so fair As thine ideal breast.
  -- Lord Byron (1788-1824) -- Childe Harold's Pilgrimage, Canto iv, Stanza 115...
• So stands the statue that enchants the world, So bending tries to veil the matchless boast, The mingled beauties of exulting Greece.
  -- James Thomson (1700-1748) -- The Seasons, Summer, Line 1346...
• Better to sink beneath the shock Than moulder piecemeal on the rock.
  -- Lord Byron (1788-1824) -- The Giaour, Line 969...
• Shrine of the mighty! can it be That this is all remains of thee?
  -- Lord Byron (1788-1824) -- The Giaour, Line 106...
• The cold in clime are cold in blood, Their love can scarce deserve the name.
  -- Lord Byron (1788-1824) -- The Giaour, Line 1099...
• To Greece we give our shining blades.
  -- Thomas Moore (1779-1852) -- Evenings in Greece, First Evening...