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Lord Byron

Lord Byron

Epigram: From the French of Rulhières

If, for silver or for gold,
You could melt ten thousand pimples
Into half a dozen dimples,
Then your face we might behold,
Looking, doubtless, much more snugly;
Yet even then 'twould be damned ugly.
 
August 12, 1819.

#English #Romanticism #XIXCentury

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Stanzas to Augusta

Though the day of my destiny’s ove… And the star of my fate hath decli… Thy soft heart refused to discover The faults which so many could fin… Though thy soul with my grief was…
Apostrophe to the Ocean

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To Thyrza

Without a stone to mark the spot, And say, what Truth might well ha… By all, save one, perchance forgot… Ah! wherefore art thou lowly laid? By many a shore and many a sea
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The Prisoner of Chillon

My hair is grey, but not with year… Nor grew it white In a single night, As men’s have grown from sudden fe… My limbs are bow’d, though not wit…
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Mazeppa

'Twas after dread Pultowa’s day, When fortune left the royal Swede… Around a slaughtered army lay, No more to combat and to bleed. The power and glory of the war,
Childe Harold’s Pilgrimage: A Romaunt. Canto IV.

I stood in Venice, on the Bridge… A palace and a prison on each hand… I saw from out the wave her struct… As from the stroke of the enchante… A thousand years their cloudy wing…
from Don Juan: Canto 1, Stanzas 41-42

His classic studies made a little… Because of filthy loves of gods an… Who in the earlier ages raised a b… But never put on pantaloons or bod… His reverend tutors had at times a…
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Don Juan: Canto the Second

O ye! who teach the ingenuous yout… Holland, France, England, German… I pray ye flog them upon all occas… It mends their morals, never mind… The best of mothers and of educati…
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Don Juan: Canto the Twelfth

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Thoughts Suggested by a College Examination

High in the midst, surrounded by h… MAGNUS his ample front sublime… Placed on his chair of state, he s… While Sophs and Freshmen tremble… As all around sit wrapt in speechl…
On a Nun

Of two fair virgins, modest, thoug… Heaven made us happy; and now, wre… Heaven for a nobler doom their wor… And gazing upon either, both requi… Mine, while the torch of Hymen ne…
To a Vain Lady

Ah! heedless girl! why thus disclo… What ne’er was meant for other ear… Why thus destroy thine own repose And dig the source of future tears… Oh, thou wilt weep, imprudent maid…
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To a Lady, Who Presented to the Author a Lock of Hair Braided With His Own, and Appointed a Night in December to Meet Him in the Garden

These locks, which fondly thus ent… In firmer chains our hearts confin… Than all th’ unmeaning protestatio… Which swell with nonsense love ora… Our love is fix’d, I think we’ve…
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Think’st thou I saw thy beauteous… Suffus’d in tears, implore to stay… And heard unmov’d thy plenteous si… Which said far more than words can… Though keen the grief thy tears ex…
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Epitaph for William Pitt

With death doom’d to grapple, Beneath this cold slab, he Who lied in the Chapel Now lies in the Abbey.



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