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  ...away. _Eloise to Abelard_. A. POPE.
We figure to ourselves The thing we like, and then we build it up As chance will have it, on the rock or sand: For Thought is tired of wandering o'er the world, And homebound Fancy runs her bark ashore. _Philip Van Artevelde, Pt. I. Act i. Sc. 5_. SIR H. TAYLOR.
FAREWELL.
Farewell! a word that must be, and hath been-- A sound which makes us linger;--yet--farewell. _Childe Harold, Canto IV_. LORD BYRON.
All farewells should be sudden, when forever.   Else they make an eternity of moments, And clog the last sad sands of life with tears. _Sardanapalus_. LORD BYRON.
So sweetly she bade me "Adieu," I thought that she bade me return. _A Pastoral_. W. SHENSTONE.
He turned him right and round about Upon the Irish shore, And gae his bridle reins a shake, With Adieu for evermore, My dear, With Adieu for evermore. _It was a' for our Rightfu' King_. R. BURNS.
And so, without more circumstance at...   Byron, Lord

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