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Lord Byron

Lord Byron

Adrian’s Address to His Soul When Dying

Ah! gentle, fleeting, wav’ring sprite,
Friend and associate of this clay!
To what unknown region borne,
Wilt thou now wing thy distant flight?
No more with wonted humour gay,
But pallid, cheerless, and forlorn.
 
[Animula! vagula, blandula,
Hospes comesque corporis,
Quæ nunc abibis in loca—
Pallidula, rigida, nudula,
Nec, ut soles, dabis jocos?]

#English #Romanticism #XIXCentury

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If, in the month of dark December… Leander, who was nightly wont (What maid will not the tale remem… To cross thy stream, broad Helles… If, when the wintry tempest roar’d…
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When the moon is on the wave, And the glow-worm in the grass, And the meteor on the grave, And the wisp on the morass; When the falling stars are shootin…
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And thou art dead, as young and fa… As aught of mortal birth; And form so soft, and charms so ra… Too soon return’d to Earth! Though Earth received them in her…
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