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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.

#EnglishWriters #Romantic

Altre opere di Lord Byron...
To E

Let Folly smile, to view the name… Of thee and me in friendship twine… Yet Virtue will have greater clai… To love, than rank with vice combi… And though unequal is thy fate,
Meditator on the shore, by Tomás Sánchez
There Is a Pleasure in the Pathless Woods

There is a pleasure in the pathles… There is a rapture on the lonely s… There is society, where none intru… By the deep sea, and music in its… I love not man the less, but Natu…
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My Epitaph

Youth, Nature, and relenting Jove… To keep my Lamp in strongly strov… But Romanelli was so stout, He beat all three, and blew it out… Oct. 1810.
We Sate Down and Wept by the Waters

We sate down and wept by the water… Of Babel, and thought of the day When our foe, in the hue of his sl… Made Salem’s high places his prey… And ye, oh her desolate daughters!
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The Dark, Blue Sea

There is a pleasure in the pathles… There is a rapture on the lonely s… There is society, where none intru… By the deep sea, and music in its… I love not man the less, but Natu…
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To M

Oh! did those eyes, instead of fir… With bright, but mild affection sh… Though they might kindle less desi… Love, more than mortal, would be t… For thou art form’d so heavenly fa…
On Revisiting Harrow

Here once engaged the stranger’s v… Young Friendship’s record simply… Few were her words; but yet, thoug… Resentment’s hand the line defaced… Deeply she cut—but not erased,
from Don Juan: Canto 1, Stanzas 60-63

Her eye (I’m very fond of handsom… Was large and dark, suppressing ha… Until she spoke, then through its… Flash’d an expression more of prid… And love than either; and there wo…
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Sonnet—to Genevra

Thy cheek is pale with thought, bu… And yet so lovely, that if Mirth… Its rose of whiteness with the bri… My heart would wish away that rude… And dazzle not thy deep—blue eyes—…
Translation From the Medea of Euripides

When fierce conflicting urge The breast where love is wont to g… What mind can stem the stormy surg… Which rolls the tide of human woe? The hope of praise, the dread of s…
Stanzas Written in Passing the Ambracian Gulf

Through cloudless skies, in silver… Full beams the moon on Actium’s c… And on these waves for Egypt’s qu… The ancient world was won and lost… And now upon the scene I look,
Granta: A Medley

Oh! could Le Sage’s demon’s gift Be realized at my desire, This night my trembling form he’d… To place it on St. Mary’s spire. Then would, unroof’d, old Granta’…
Inscription on the Monument of a Newfoundland Dog

When some proud son of man returns… Unknown to glory, but upheld by bi… The sculptor’s art exhausts the po… And storied urns record who rest b… When all is done, upon the tomb is…
Reply to Some Verses of J.M.B. Pigot, Esq. on the Cruelty of His Mistress

Why, Pigot, complain of this dams… Why thus in despair do you fret? For months you may try, yet, belie… Will never obtain a coquette. Would you teach her to love? for a…
Were my Bosom as False as Thou Deem’st It to Be

Were my bosom as false as thou dee… I need not have wander’d from far… It was but abjuring my creed to ef… The curse which, thou say’st, is t… If the bad never triumph, then Go…
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