Category Lord Byron

1. Beside the confines of the Ægean main,   Where northward Macedonia bounds the flood,And views opposed the Asiatic plain,   Where once the pride of lofty Ilion stood,Like the great Father of the giant brood,   With lowering port majestic Athos stands,Crowned with…

Maid of Athens, ere we part,Give, oh give me back my heart!Or, since that has left my breast,Keep it now, and take the rest!Hear my vow before I go,Zoë mou, sas agapo! By those tresses unconfined,Wood by each Ægean wind;By…

IN THIS BOOK A TRAVELLER HAD WRITTEN:­‘Fair Albion, smiling, sees her son departTo trace the birth and nursery of art:Noble his object, glorious is his aim;He comes to Athens, and he writes his name.’ BENEATH WHICH LORD BYRON INSERTED THE…

If, in the month of dark December,  Leander, who was nightly wont(What maid will not the tale remember?)  To cross thy stream, broad Hellespont! If, when the wintry tempest roar’d,  He sped to Hero, nothing loth,And thus of old thy…

The spell is broke; the charm is flown!Thus is it with life’s fitful fever:We madly smile when we should groan:Delirium is our best deceiver. Each lucid interval of thoughtRecalls the woes of Nature’s charter;And he that acts as wise men…

Through cloudless skies, in silvery sheen,Full beams the moon on Actium’s coast:And on these waves for Egypt’s queen,The ancient world was won and lost. And now upon the scene I look,The azure grave of many a Roman;Where stem Ambition once…

Chill and mirk is the nightly blast,Where Pindus’ mountains rise,And angry clouds are pouring fastThe vengeance of the skies. Our guides are gone, our hope is lost,And lightnings, as they play,But show where rocks our path have crost,Or gild the…

Oh Lady! when I left the shore,The distant shore which gave me birth,I hardly thought to grieve once moreTo quit another spot on earth: Yet here, amidst this barren isle,Where panting Nature droops the head,Where only thou art seen to…

As o’er the cold sepulchral stoneSome name arrests the passer-by;Thus, when thou view’st this page alone,May mine attract thy pensive eye! And when by thee that name is read,Perchance in some succeeding year,Reflect on me as on the dead,And think…

Oh never talk again to meOf northern climes and British ladies;It has not been your lot to see,Like me, the lovely Girl of Cadiz.Although her eye be not of blue,Nor fair her locks, like English lasses,How far its own expressive…