Rome ! my country ! city of the soul! The orphans of the heart must turn to thee, Lone mother of dead empires ! and control In their shut breasts their petty misery. What are our woes and sufferance? Come and see The cypress, hear the owl, and plod your...
Childe Harold's pilgrimage, The giaour, The siege of Corinth [and other poems]. - Seite 153
von George Gordon N. Byron (6th baron.) - 1832