Bom.  So have I heard on Afric's burning shore

A hungry lion give a grievous roar;

The grievous roar echoed along the shore.

Artax.  So have I heard on Afric's burning shore

Another lion give a grievous roar;

And the first lion thought the last a bore.

William B Rhodes (Circa 1790): Bombastes Furioso. Act i. Sc. 4.

Ungrateful Florence! Dante sleeps afar,

Like Scipio, buried by the upbraiding shore.

Lord Byron 1788-1824: Childe Harold's Pilgrimage. Canto iv. Stanza 57.

Roll on, thou deep and dark blue ocean, roll!

Ten thousand fleets sweep over thee in vain;

Man marks the earth with ruin,—his control

Stops with the shore.

Lord Byron 1788-1824: Childe Harold's Pilgrimage. Canto iv. Stanza 179.

Bom.  So have I heard on Afric's burning shore

A hungry lion give a grievous roar;

The grievous roar echoed along the shore.

Artax.  So have I heard on Afric's burning shore

Another lion give a grievous roar;

And the first lion thought the last a bore.

William B Rhodes (Circa 1790): Bombastes Furioso. Act i. Sc. 4.

Adieu! adieu! my native shore

Fades o'er the waters blue.

Lord Byron 1788-1824: Childe Harold's Pilgrimage. Canto i. Stanza 13.

Toll for the brave!—

The brave that are no more!

All sunk beneath the wave,

Fast by their native shore!

William Cowper (1731-1800): On the Loss of the Royal George.

As children gath'ring pebbles on the shore.

Or if I would delight my private hours

With music or with poem, where so soon

As in our native language can I find

That solace?

John Milton (1608-1674): Paradise Regained. Book iv. Line 330.

To die is landing on some silent shore

Where billows never break, nor tempests roar;

Ere well we feel the friendly stroke, 't is o'er.

Samuel Garth (1670-1719): The Dispensary. Canto iii. Line 225.

I wiped away the weeds and foam,

I fetched my sea-born treasures home;

But the poor, unsightly, noisome things

Had left their beauty on the shore,

With the sun and the sand and the wild uproar.

Ralph Waldo Emerson (1803-1882): Each and All.

Vessels large may venture more,

But little boats should keep near shore.

Benjamin Franklin (1706-1790): Maxims prefixed to Poor Richard's Almanac, 1757.

My boat is on the shore,

And my bark is on the sea;

But before I go, Tom Moore,

Here's a double health to thee!

Lord Byron 1788-1824: To Thomas Moore.

Adieu! adieu! my native shore

Fades o'er the waters blue.

Lord Byron 1788-1824: Childe Harold's Pilgrimage. Canto i. Stanza 13.

I never was on the dull, tame shore,

But I loved the great sea more and more.

Bryan W Procter (1787-1874): The Sea.

Sabean odours from the spicy shore

Of Araby the Blest.

John Milton (1608-1674): Paradise Lost. Book iv. Line 162.

And when the stream

Which overflowed the soul was passed away,

A consciousness remained that it had left

Deposited upon the silent shore

Of memory images and precious thoughts

That shall not die, and cannot be destroyed.

William Wordsworth (1770-1850): The Excursion. Book vii.

Sigh no more, ladies, sigh no more,

Men were deceivers ever,—

One foot in sea and one on shore,

To one thing constant never.

William Shakespeare (1564-1616): Much Ado about Nothing. Act ii. Sc. 3.

Sigh no more, ladies, sigh no more!

Men were deceivers ever;

One foot in sea and one on shore,

To one thing constant never.

Thomas Percy (1728-1811): The Friar of Orders Gray.

Thus ornament is but the guiled shore

To a most dangerous sea.

William Shakespeare (1564-1616): The Merchant of Venice. Act iii. Sc. 2.

There is a pleasure in the pathless woods;

There is a rapture on the lonely shore;

There is society, where none intrudes,

By the deep sea, and music in its roar:

I love not man the less, but Nature more.

Lord Byron 1788-1824: Childe Harold's Pilgrimage. Canto iv. Stanza 178.

I knew, by the smoke that so gracefully curl'd

Above the green elms, that a cottage was near;

And I said, "If there's peace to be found in the world,

A heart that was humble might hope for it here."

Thomas Moore (1779-1852): Ballad Stanzas.

So fades a summer cloud away;

So sinks the gale when storms are o'er;

So gently shuts the eye of day;

So dies a wave along the shore.

Mrs Barbauld (1743-1825): The Death of the Virtuous.

Such is the aspect of this shore;

'T is Greece, but living Greece no more!

So coldly sweet, so deadly fair,

We start, for soul is wanting there.

Lord Byron 1788-1824: The Giaour. Line 90.

Soft is the strain when zephyr gently blows,

And the smooth stream in smoother numbers flows;

But when loud surges lash the sounding shore,

The hoarse rough verse should like the torrent roar.

When Ajax strives some rock's vast weight to throw,

The line too labours, and the words move slow:

Not so when swift Camilla scours the plain,

Flies o'er th' unbending corn, and skims along the main.

Alexander Pope (1688-1744): Essay on Criticism. Part ii. Line 166.

A strong nor'-wester's blowing, Bill!

Hark! don't ye hear it roar now?

Lord help 'em, how I pities them

Unhappy folks on shore now!

William Pitt (—— -1840): The Sailor's Consolation.

Gone before

To that unknown and silent shore.

Charles Lamb (1775-1834): Hester. Stanza 7.

Along thy wild and willow'd shore.

Sir Walter Scott (1771-1832): Lay of the Last Minstrel. Canto iv. Stanza 1.