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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.

#EnglishWriters #Romantic

Autres oeuvres par Lord Byron...
On my Thirty

Through life’s dull road, so dim a… I have dragg’d to three-and-thirty… What have these years left to me? Nothing—except thirty-three.
To Emma

Since now the hour is come at last… When you must quit your anxious lo… Since now our dream of bliss is pa… One pang, my girl, and all is over… Alas! that pang will be severe,
 1
Don Juan: Dedication

Bob Southey! You’re a poet—Poet-… And representative of all the race… Although 'tis true that you turn’d… Last—yours has lately been a commo… And now, my Epic Renegade! what a…
The Episode of Nisus and Euryalus

A PARAPHRASE FROM THE… Nisus, the guardian of the portal… Eager to gild his arms with hostil… Well skill’d in fight the quiverin… Or pour his arrow, through th’ emb…
Lines Written on a Blank Leaf of 'The Pleasures of Memory’

Absent or present, still to thee, My friend, what magic spells belon… As all can tell, who share, like m… In turn thy converse and thy song. But when the dreaded hour shall co…
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…
To M. S. G.: When I Dream That You Love Me

When I dream that you love me, yo… Extend not your anger to sleep; For in visions alone your affectio… I rise, and it leaves me to weep. Then, Morpheus! envelope my facul…
 1
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 or… Our love is fix’d, I think we’ve…
Vision of Belshazzar

The King was on his throne, The Satraps throng’d the hall: A thousand bright lamps shone O’er that high festival. A thousand cups of gold,
 3
The Spell Is Broke, the Charm Is Flown!

The spell is broke; the charm is f… Thus is it with life’s fitful feve… We madly smile when we should groa… Delirium is our best deceiver. Each lucid interval of thought
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…
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…
 1
John Keats, by Joseph Severn
John Keats

Who killed John Keats? “I,” says the Quarterly, So savage and Tartarly; “Twas one of my feats.” Who shot the arrow?
Don Juan: Canto the Seventeenth

The world is full of orphans: firs… Who are so in the strict sense of… (But many a lonely tree the loftie… Than others crowded in the forest’… The next are such as are not doome…
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…



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