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George Gordon Byron, Lord Byron - Poems
Classic Poetry Series George Gordon Byron, Lord Byron - poems - Publication Date: 2004 Publisher: PoemHunter.Com - The World's Poetry Archive George Gordon Byron, Lord Byron (1788 - 1824) George Gordon Byron was the son of Captain John Byron by his marriage to the Scottish Catherine Gordon of Gight. He was born with a club foot of which he was very self-conscious and educated in Aberdeen, where his family had moved to escape their debts, and at Harrow and Cambridge. Byron inherited the family home, Newstead Abbey, following the deaths of his father in 1791 and grandfather in 1798. He took up his seat in the House of Lords in 1808 and then left to travel in Europe, at which time he began writing his immensely popular poem Childe Harolde, returning to a political role again in 1813 when he spoke on liberal themes in the House. In 1815 he married Annabella Milbanke, but she left him soon afterwards, taking their child with her. Throughout his life he fathered several illegitimate children and had numerous scandalous affairs, the most notorious being with his half-sister Augusta, his father's daughter by an earlier marriage. This affair horrified English society and encouraged Byron in his decision to leave England for good in 1816. He stayed with the Shelleys in Geneva, where he wrote The Prisoner of Chillon, then after a trip to Rome in 1817 he returned to Venice where he wrote Beppo his first work in a new ironic style. Don Juan was begun the following year. Fired by the Greek battle for independence from Turkey, Byron sailed to Missolonghi in 1824, where he gave money and inspiration to the rebels but died of a fever before seeing action. -
Lord George Gordon Byron
Classic Poetry Series Lord George Gordon Byron - poems - Publication Date: 2004 Publisher: PoemHunter.Com - The World's Poetry Archive Childe Harold's Pilgrimage: Canto the Fourth I I stood in Venice, on the Bridge of Sighs; A palace and a prison on each hand: I saw from out the wave her structures rise As from the stroke of the enchanter's wand: A thousand years their cloudy wings expand Around me, and a dying Glory smiles O'er the far times, when many a subject land Look'd to the winged Lion's marble piles, Where Venice sate in state, thron'd on her hundred isles!II She looks a sea Cybele, fresh from ocean, Rising with her tiara of proud towers At airy distance, with majestic motion, A ruler of the waters and their powers: And such she was; her daughters had their dowers From spoils of nations, and the exhaustless East Pour'd in her lap all gems in sparkling showers. In purple was she rob'd, and of her feast Monarchs partook, and deem'd their dignity increas'd.III In Venice Tasso's echoes are no more, And silent rows the songless gondolier; Her palaces are crumbling to the shore, And music meets not always now the ear: Those days are gone--but Beauty still is here. States fall, arts fade--but Nature doth not die, Nor yet forget how Venice once was dear, The pleasant place of all festivity, The revel of the earth, the masque of Italy!IV But unto us she hath a spell beyond Her name in story, and her long array Of mighty shadows, whose dim forms despond Above the dogeless city's vanish'd sway; Ours is a trophy which will not decay With -
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125 198 POKMS VOLUME TWO QUOTABLE POEMS An Ant h o I o gy of Modern Verse VOLUME TWO COMPILED BY THOMAS CURTIS CLARK i WILLETT, CLARK & COMPANY CHICAGO NEW YORK 1931 Copyright 193 i by WILLETT, CLARK & COMPANY Manufactured in The U. S. A. by The Plimpton Frew Norwood, Mass.-LaPorte, Ind. To My Brother CHARLES PATTON CLARK MEDICAL SCIENTIST AND LOVER OF BEAUTY CONTENTS The poems in this volume are deliberately placed without attempt to classify them either as to subject or author. Pages 1-324 contain 560 poems selected for their quotability, modern tone, and genuine poetic quality. Readers who de- sire to find poems on any particular theme will find ample guidance in the very complete indexes beginning on page 325, including (a) Index of Subjects, pp. 325 to 336. (b) Index of Authors, pp. 337 to 348. (c) Index of Titles, pp. 349 to 358. (d) Index of First Lines, pp. 359 to 366. Detailed acknowledgment to authors and publishers will also be found on p. 367. vii QUOTABLE POEMS VOLUME TWO They Went Forth to Battle but They Always Fell They went forth to battle but they always fell. Something they saw above the sullen shields. Nobly they fought and bravely, but not well, And sank heart-wounded by a subtle spell. They knew not fear that to the foeman yields, They were not weak, as one who vainly wields A faltering weapon; yet the old tales tell How on the hard-fought field they always fell. It was a secret music that they heard, The murmurous voice of pity and of peace, And that which pierced the heart was but a word, Though the white breast was red-lipped where the sword Pressed a fierce cruel kiss and did not cease Till its hot thirst was surfeited. -
<H1>The Home Book of Verse, Volume 3 by Burton Egbert Stevenson</H1>
The Home Book of Verse, Volume 3 by Burton Egbert Stevenson The Home Book of Verse, Volume 3 by Burton Egbert Stevenson This etext was prepared by Dennis Schreiner, [email protected] The Home Book of Verse, Volume 3 by Burton Egbert Stevenson Contents of Volume I of the two volume set are in our Volume 1 This includes contents of Volumes 1 through 4 of our Etext editions. PART III POEMS OF NATURE The world is too much with us; late and soon, Getting and spending, we lay waste our powers: Little we see in Nature that is ours; page 1 / 666 We have given our hearts away, a sordid boon! This sea that bares her bosom to the moon, The winds that will be howling at all hours, And are up-gathered now like sleeping flowers; For this, for everything, we are out of tune; It moves us not. - Great God! I'd rather be A Pagan suckled in a creed outworn; So might I, standing on this pleasant lea, Have glimpses that would make me less forlorn; Have sight of Proteus rising from the sea; Or hear old Triton blow his wreathed horn. William Wordsworth [1770-1850] MOTHER NATURE THE BOOK OF THE WORLD Of this fair volume which we World do name, If we the sheets and leaves could turn with care, Of him who it corrects, and did it frame, We clear might read the art and wisdom rare; Find out his power which wildest powers doth tame, His providence extending everywhere, His justice which proud rebels doth not spare, In every page, no, period of the same.