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| Pamela Coleman Smith Sir Henry Irving as Charles I ca. 1900 watercolor Victoria & Albert Museum, London |
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| Laura Anning Bell Miss Annie Horniman ca. 1910 pastel Tate Gallery |
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| Marie Laurencin Portraits (Marie Laurencin, Cecilia de Madrazo and the dog Coco) 1915 oil on canvas Tate Gallery |
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| Doris Lindner Ellen Terry as Camma in Alfred, Lord Tennyson's play The Cup 1917 plaster Victoria & Albert Museum, London |
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| Margherita Callet Carcano Head of a Woman ca. 1935 woodcut Nelson-Atkins Museum of Art, Kansas City, Missouri |
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| Elisabeth Frink Male Head ca. 1955 drawing Yale Center for British Art |
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| Elisabeth Frink Head I 1988 screenprint Scottish National Gallery of Modern Art, Edinburgh |
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| Ruth Thorne-Thomsen Head with Ladders ca. 1980 gelatin silver print Nelson-Atkins Museum of Art, Kansas City, Missouri |
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| Felicity Powell Head in Clouds up to the Neck 2005 wax relief on mirror tile Victoria & Albert Museum, London |
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| Felicity Powell Thinking Tree 2005 wax relief on mirror tile Victoria & Albert Museum, London |
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| Gwen John Nun with a Group of Orphans ca. 1910 watercolor and gouache Yale Center for British Art |
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| Lady Edna Clarke Hall Heathcliffe supporting Catherine ca. 1924 watercolor Tate Gallery |
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| Louise Dahl-Wolfe Fashion Study ca. 1935 gelatin silver print Cleveland Museum of Art, Ohio |
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| Edith Towner Doll with China Head ca. 1937 watercolor National Gallery of Art, Washington DC |
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| Mette Tronvoll Markus Kiersztan, Petra Langhammer 1996 C-print National Gallery of Norway, Oslo |
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| Mette Tronvoll Eline Mugaas, John Minh Nguyen 1996 C-print National Gallery of Norway, Oslo |
from Don Juan, canto III
The isles of Greece! the isles of Greece!
Where burning Sappho loved and sung,
Where grew the arts of war and peace,
Where Delos rose, and Phoebus sprung!
Eternal summer gilds them yet,
But all, except their sun, is set.
The Scian and the Teian muse,
The hero's harp, the lover's lute,
Have found the fame your shores refuse:
Their place of birth alone is mute
To sounds which echo further west
Than your sires' 'Islands of the Blest.'
The mountains look on Marathon
And Marathon looks on the sea;
And musing there an hour alone,
I dream'd that Greece might still be free;
For standing on the Persians' grave,
I could not deem myself a slave.
A king sate on the rocky brow
Which looks o'er sea-born Salamis;
And ships, by thousands, lay below,
And men in nations; – all were his!
He counted them at break of day –
And when the sun set, where were they?
And where are they? and where art thou,
My country? On thy voiceless shore
The heroic lay is tuneless now –
The heroic bosom beats no more!
And must thy lyre, so long divine,
Degenerate into hands like mine?
'Tis something in the dearth of fame,
Though link'd among a fetter'd race,
To feel at least a patriot's shame,
Even as I sing, suffuse my face;
For what is left the poet here?
For Greeks a blush – for Greece a tear.
– George Gordon, Lord Byron (1819-20)