A gulf profound as that Serbonian bog

Betwixt Damiata and Mount Casius old,

Where armies whole have sunk: the parching air

Burns frore, and cold performs th' effect of fire.

Thither by harpy-footed Furies hal'd,

At certain revolutions all the damn'd

Are brought, and feel by turns the bitter change

Of fierce extremes,—extremes by change more fierce;

From beds of raging fire to starve in ice

Their soft ethereal warmth, and there to pine

Immovable, infix'd, and frozen round,

Periods of time; thence hurried back to fire.

John Milton (1608-1674): Paradise Lost. Book ii. Line 592.

For this relief much thanks: 't is bitter cold,

And I am sick at heart.

William Shakespeare (1564-1616): Hamlet. Act i. Sc. 1.

In those holy fields

Over whose acres walked those blessed feet

Which fourteen hundred years ago were nail'd

For our advantage on the bitter cross.

William Shakespeare (1564-1616): King Henry IV. Part I. Act i. Sc. 1.

Revenge, at first though sweet,

Bitter ere long back on itself recoils.

John Milton (1608-1674): Paradise Lost. Book ix. Line 171.

Chewing the food of sweet and bitter fancy.

William Shakespeare (1564-1616): As You Like It. Act iv. Sc. 3.

Of all the griefs that harass the distrest,

Sure the most bitter is a scornful jest.

Samuel Johnson (1709-1784): London. Line 166.

Now conscience wakes despair

That slumber'd,—wakes the bitter memory

Of what he was, what is, and what must be

Worse.

John Milton (1608-1674): Paradise Lost. Book iv. Line 23.

Still from the fount of joy's delicious springs

Some bitter o'er the flowers its bubbling venom flings.

Lord Byron 1788-1824: Childe Harold's Pilgrimage. Canto i. Stanza 82.

The bitter past, more welcome is the sweet.

William Shakespeare (1564-1616): All's Well that Ends Well. Act v. Sc. 3.