With all its sinful doings, I must say, That Italy’s a pleasant place to me, Who love to see the sun shine every day, And vines (not nail’d to walls) from tree to tree… I love the language. that soft bastard Latin, Which melts like kisses from a female mouth, And sounds as if it should be writ on satin… Eve of [...]

Of all the places where the Carnival Was most fecetious in the days of yore,… Venice the bell from every city bore… They’ve pretty faces yet, those same Venetians, Black eyes, arch’d brows, and sweet expressions still, Such as of old were copied from the Grecians,… And like so many Venuses of Titian’s… Her husband sailed upon the Adriatic,… He was a merchant [...]

“Oh! that the desert were my dwelling place,… that I might forget the human race, and , hating no one , love but only her!” is how Childe sums up his feelings about the human race. For him “There is a pleasure in the pathless woods, there is a rapture on the lonely shore, there [...]

“But where is he the pilgrim of my song, the being who upheld it through the past?” the poet Byron asks and answers “Methinks he cometh late and tarries long”. Childe sees “Afar the Tiber winds, and the broad ocean laves the Latian coast where sprung the Epic war ‘Arms and the Man’, whose re-ascending [...]

“While stands the Coliseum, Rome shall stand; when falls the Coliseum, Rome shall fall; and when Rome falls - the world” are the thoughts of Childe Harold as he views “Simple erect, severe, austere, sublime’ “Rome, and her Ruin past Redemption’s skill,…”. “Majesty, Power, Glory, Strength, and Beauty, all are aisled in this [...]

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