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Lord Byron

Substitute for an Epitaph

Kind Reader! take your choice to cry or laugh;
Here HAROLD lies, but where’s his Epitaph?
If such you seek, try Westminster, and view
Ten thousand just as fit for him as you.
 
Athens

#EnglishWriters #Romantic

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Preferido o celebrado por...
Bruno G.
Otras obras de Lord Byron...
A Sketch

Born in the garret, in the kitchen… Promoted thence to deck her mistre… Next for some gracious service une… And from its wages only to be gues… Raised from the toilette to the ta…
From Anacreon: 'Twas Now the Hour When Night Had Driven

'Twas now the hour when Night had… Her car half round yon sable heave… Boötes, only, seem’d to roll His arctic charge around the pole; While mortals, lost in gentle slee…
Lines on Mr. Hodgson Written on Board the Lisbon Packet

Huzza! Hodgson, we are going, Our embargo’s off at last; Favourable breezes blowing Bend the canvass o’er the mast. From aloft the signal’s streaming,
To Marion

Marion! why that pensive brow? What disgust to life hast thou? Change that discontented air; Frowns become not one so fair. 'Tis not love disturbs thy rest,
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…
Saul

Thou whose spell can raise the dea… Bid the prophet’s form appear. ‘Samuel, raise thy buried head! King, behold the phantom seer!’ Earth yawn’d; he stood the centre…
The Vampyre (An extract from the Giaour)

But first, on earth as vampire sen… Thy corse shall from its tomb be r… Then ghastly haunt thy native plac… And suck the blood of all thy race… There from thy daughter, sister, w…
 4
Stanzas to Jessy

There is a mystic thread of life So dearly wreath’d with mine alone… That Destiny’s relentless knife At once must sever both, or none. There is a Form on which these ey…
Epistle From Mr. Murray to Dr. Polidori

Dear Doctor, I have read your pla… Which is a good one in its way,­ Purges the eyes and moves the bowe… And drenches handkerchiefs like to… With tears, that, in a flux of gri…
 1
To the Countess of Blessington

You have ask’d for a verse:—the re… In a rhymer 'twere strange to deny… But my Hippocrene was but my brea… And my feelings (its fountain) are… Were I now as I was, I had sung
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Answer to a Beautiful Poem, Entitled 'The Common Lot’

MONTGOMERY! true, the common… Of mortals lies in Lethe’s wave; Yet some shall never be forgot, Some shall exist beyond the grave. ‘Unknown the region of his birth,’
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…
The Island: Canto II.

How pleasant were the songs of To… When Summer’s Sun went down the c… Come, let us to the islet’s softes… And hear the warbling birds I the… The wood-dove from the forest dept…
Childe Harold’s Pilgrimage: A Romaunt. Canto IV.

I stood in Venice, on the Bridge… A palace and a prison on each hand… I saw from out the wave her struct… As from the stroke of the enchante… A thousand years their cloudy wing…
It Is the Hour

It is the hour when from the bough… The nightingale’s high note is hea… It is the hour—when lover’s vows Seem sweet in every whisper’d word… And gentle winds and waters near,



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