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Lord Byron

Lord Byron

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.

#English #Romanticism #XIXCentury

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Otras obras de Lord Byron...
To Thomas Moore: Written the Evening Before His Visit to Mr. Leigh Hunt in Horsemonger Lane Gaol, May 19, 1813

Oh you, who in all names can tickl… Anacreon, Tom Little, Tom Moore,… For hang me if I know of which yo… Your Quarto two-pounds, or your T… But now to my letter-to yours 'tis…
 1
Windsor Poetics: Lines Composed on the Occasion of His Royal Highness the Prince Regent Being Seen Standing Between the Coffins of Henry Viii and Charles I, in the Royal Vault at Windsor

Famed for contemptuous breach of s… By headless Charles see heartless… Between them stands another sceptr… It moves, it reigns—in all but nam… Charles to his people, Henry to h…
Fill the Goblet Again: A Song

Fill the goblet again! for I neve… Felt the glow which now gladdens m… Let us drink!—who would not?—since… In the goblet alone no deception i… I have tried in its turn all that…
Remember Him, Whom Passion's Power

Remember him, whom Passion’s powe… Severely——deeply——vainly proved: Remember thou that dangerous hour, When neither fell, though both wer… That yielding breast, that melting…
To Woman

Woman! experience might have told… That all must love thee who behold… Surely experience might have taugh… Thy firmest promises are nought: But, placed in all thy charms befo…
Address, Spoken at the Opening of Drury

In one dread night our city saw, a… Bow’d to the dust, the Drama’s to… In one short hour beheld the blazi… Apollo sink, and Shakspeare cease… Ye who beheld, (oh! sight admired…
Lines to a Lady Weeping

Weep, daughter of a royal line, A Sire’s disgrace, a realm’s deca… Ah! happy if each tear of thine Could wash a father’s fault away! Weep—for thy tears are Virtue’s t…
Stanzas to Augusta (Ii.)

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…
The Siege and Conquest of Alhama

The Moorish King rides up and dow… Through Granada’s royal town; From Elvira’s gate to those Of Bivarambla on he goes. Woe is me, Alhama!
On Moore’s Last Operatic Farce, Or Farcical Opera

Good plays are scarce: So Moore writes farce. The poet’s fame grows brittle— We knew before That Little’s Moore,
Stanzas to a Lady, With the Poems of Camões

This votive pledge of fond esteem, Perhaps, dear girl! for me thou’lt… It sings of Love’s enchanting dre… A theme we never can despise. Who blames it but the envious fool…
 1
Impromptus

Strahan, Tonson, Lintot of the ti… Patron and publisher of rhymes, For thee the bard up Pindus climb… My Murray. To thee, with hope and terror dumb…
To a Lady, Who Presented the Author With the Velvet Band Which Bound Her Tresses

This Band, which bound thy yellow… Is mine, sweet girl! Thy pledge o… It claims my warmest, dearest care… Like relics left of saints above. Oh! I will wear it next my heart;
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…
Don Juan: Canto the Fifth

When amatory poets sing their love… In liquid lines mellifluously blan… And pair their rhymes as Venus yo… They little think what mischief is… The greater their success the wors…



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