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Lord Byron

Lord Byron

On Napoleon’s Escape From Elba

Once fairly set out on his party of pleasure,
Taking towns at his liking, and crowns at his leisure,
From Elba to Lyons and Paris he goes,
Making balls for the ladies, and bows tohis foes.

#EnglishWriters #Romantic

Otras obras de Lord Byron...
On the Death of Mr. Fox

The following iiliberal imprompt… 'Our nation’s foes lament on Fox’… But bless the hour when PITT res… These feelings wide, let sense and… We give the palm where Justice po…
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Impromptu

Beneath Blessington’s eyes The reclaimed Paradise Should be free as the former from… But if the new Eve For an Apple should grieve,
From the French

ÆGLE, beauty and poet, has two l… She makes her own face, and does n…
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Don Juan: Canto the Seventh

O Love! O Glory! what are ye who… Around us ever, rarely to alight? There’s not a meteor in the polar… Of such transcendent and more flee… Chill, and chain’d to cold earth,…
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…
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…
Solitude

To sit on rocks, to muse o’er floo… To slowly trace the forest’s shady… Where things that own not man’s do… And mortal foot hath ne’er or rare… To climb the trackless mountain al…
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…
Epistle to a Friend, in Answer to Some Lines Exhorting the Author to Be Cheerful, and to Banish Care

'OH! banish care’—such ever be The motto of thy revelry! Perchance of mine, when wassail ni… Renew those riotous delights, Wherewith the children of Despair
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…
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TO D—

In thee I fondly hoped to clasp A friend whom death alone could se… Till envy, with malignant grasp, Detach’d thee from my breast for e… True, she has forced thee from my…
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Epigrams

Oh, Castlereagh! thou art a patri… Cato died for his country, so dids… He perish’d rather than see Rome… Thou cutt’ st thy throat that Bri… So Castlereagh has cut his throat…
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Lines

WRITTEN IN 'LETTERS O… ‘Away, away, your fleeting arts May now betray some simpler hearts… And you will smile at their believ… And they shall weep at your deceiv…
Don Juan: Canto the Eighth

The town was taken—whether he migh… Himself or bastion, little matter’… His stubborn valour was no future… Ismail’s no more! The Crescent’s… Sunk, and the crimson Cross glar’…
The Corsair

'O’er the glad waters of the dark… Our thoughts as boundless, and our… Far as the breeze can bear, the bi… Survey our empire, and behold our… These are our realms, no limits to…
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