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Lo! where the Giant on the mountain stands,
His blood-red tresses deepening in the Sun,
With death-shot glowing in his fiery hands,
And eye that scorcheth all it glares upon

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More quotes by Lord Byron

How my soul hates This language,
Which makes life itself a lie,
Flattering dust with eternity.

Sardanapalus (1821)

For freedom's battle, once begun,
Bequeath'd by bleeding sire to son,
Though baffled oft, is ever won.

The Giaour (1813)

A great poet belongs to no country; his works are public property, and his Memoirs the inheritance of the public.

Conversations of Lord Byron with Thomas Medwin (1832)

She was his life,
The ocean to the river of his thoughts,
Which terminated all.

The Dream (1816)

There 's not a joy the world can give like that it takes away.

All Lord Byron quotes →

Attribution

Quote text and notes from Wikiquote: Lord Byron (page history), available under CC BY-SA 4.0. Source quality and labels are our own summary of what Wikiquote records.