Lord Byron Poem

Translation from Vittorelli

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On a Nun.

Sonnet composed in the name of a father, whose daughter had recently died shortly after her marriage; and addressed to the father of her who had lately taken the veil.

Of two fair virgins, modest, though admired,
Heaven made us happy; and now, wretched sires,
      Heaven for a nobler doom their worth desires,
      And gazing upon eitherboth required.

Mine, while the torch of Hymen newly fired
Becomes extinguished,—soon—too soon expires;
      But thine, within the closing grate retired,
      Eternal captive, to her God aspires.

But thou at least from out the jealous door,
      Which shuts between your never-meeting eyes,
      May’st hear her sweet and pious voice once more:

I to the marble, where my daughter lies,
      Rush,—the swoln flood of bitterness I pour,
      And knock, and knock, and knock—but none replies.

[First published, Childe Harold, Canto IV., 1818.]
On the Bust of Helen by Canova
A Very Mournful Ballad on the Siege and Conquest of Alhama.


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