Related:

• My native land, good night!
  -- Lord Byron (1788-1824) -- Childe Harold's Pilgrimage, Canto i, Stanza 13...
• O Rome! my country! city of the soul!
  -- Lord Byron (1788-1824) -- Childe Harold's Pilgrimage, Canto iv, Stanza 78...
• By the blue rushing of the arrowy Rhone.
  -- Lord Byron (1788-1824) -- Childe Harold's Pilgrimage, Canto iii, Stanza 71...
• Ada! sole daughter of my house and heart.
  -- Lord Byron (1788-1824) -- Childe Harold's Pilgrimage, Canto iii, Stanza 1...
• The hell of waters! where they howl and hiss, And boil in endless torture.
  -- Lord Byron (1788-1824) -- Childe Harold's Pilgrimage, Canto iv, Stanza 69...
• Ungrateful Florence! Dante sleeps afar, Like Scipio, buried by the upbraiding shore.
  -- Lord Byron (1788-1824) -- Childe Harold's Pilgrimage, Canto iv, Stanza 57...
• In hope to merit heaven by making earth a hell.
  -- Lord Byron (1788-1824) -- Childe Harold's Pilgrimage, Canto i, Stanza 20...
• I see before me the gladiator lie.
  -- Lord Byron (1788-1824) -- Childe Harold's Pilgrimage, Canto iv, Stanza 140...
• Might shake the saintship of an anchorite.
  -- Lord Byron (1788-1824) -- Childe Harold's Pilgrimage, Canto i, Stanza 11...