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Selected Poetry of Lord Byron

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Poet, celebrity, and revolutionary, Lord (George Gordon) Byron was one of the most influential and controversial figures of the first half of the nineteenth century, his distinctive, deeply felt work comprising one of the enduring high points of Romantic literature. From “Manfred,” with its evocation of the figure that came to be called the “Byronic hero,” to the melanchol Poet, celebrity, and revolutionary, Lord (George Gordon) Byron was one of the most influential and controversial figures of the first half of the nineteenth century, his distinctive, deeply felt work comprising one of the enduring high points of Romantic literature. From “Manfred,” with its evocation of the figure that came to be called the “Byronic hero,” to the melancholy “Childe Harold,” to the satirical masterpiece “Don Juan” (presented here in judiciously selected form), this Modern Library Paperback Classic includes all of the essential Byron.


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Poet, celebrity, and revolutionary, Lord (George Gordon) Byron was one of the most influential and controversial figures of the first half of the nineteenth century, his distinctive, deeply felt work comprising one of the enduring high points of Romantic literature. From “Manfred,” with its evocation of the figure that came to be called the “Byronic hero,” to the melanchol Poet, celebrity, and revolutionary, Lord (George Gordon) Byron was one of the most influential and controversial figures of the first half of the nineteenth century, his distinctive, deeply felt work comprising one of the enduring high points of Romantic literature. From “Manfred,” with its evocation of the figure that came to be called the “Byronic hero,” to the melancholy “Childe Harold,” to the satirical masterpiece “Don Juan” (presented here in judiciously selected form), this Modern Library Paperback Classic includes all of the essential Byron.

30 review for Selected Poetry of Lord Byron

  1. 4 out of 5

    Ahmad Sharabiani

    Selected Poems, George Gordon Byron George Gordon Byron, 6th Baron Byron FRS (22 January 1788 – 19 April 1824), known as Lord Byron, was an English nobleman, poet, peer, politician, and leading figure in the Romantic movement. He is regarded as one of the greatest British poets and remains widely read and influential. Among his best-known works are the lengthy narrative poems Don Juan and Childe Harold's Pilgrimage as well as the short lyric poem "She Walks in Beauty". تاریخ نخستین خوانش: سوم ماه Selected Poems, George Gordon Byron George Gordon Byron, 6th Baron Byron FRS (22 January 1788 – 19 April 1824), known as Lord Byron, was an English nobleman, poet, peer, politician, and leading figure in the Romantic movement. He is regarded as one of the greatest British poets and remains widely read and influential. Among his best-known works are the lengthy narrative poems Don Juan and Childe Harold's Pilgrimage as well as the short lyric poem "She Walks in Beauty". تاریخ نخستین خوانش: سوم ماه نوامبر سال 2013 میلادی لرد «جرج گوردون بایرن» شخصیت درجه اول رمانتیسم انگلستان، و اروپا، ایشان را در همان سالهای پس از درگذشتش «ناپلئون دنیای شعر» لقب دادند. چاپ پیش از انقلاب (از صفحه 1825 تا صفحه 1959 ، از جلد چهارم از مجموعه آثار شجاع الدین شفا) در 137 صفحه چایلد هارولد، قطعه زندانی شیلن ای آزادی. تو آن روح جاودان هستی، که هرگز در زنجیر نمیافتد، و در تاریکی سیاهچالها نیز همچنان درخشنده میماند، زیرا جایگاه تو قلب ماست. قلبی ست که تنها برای تو میتپد. وقتی که نصیب فرزندان تو، قلاده و ظلمت و سیاهچال تیره شود، از شهادت آنها نیرویی پدید میآید، که کشورشان را پیروز میکند، و نام آزادی را با هر نسیمی، به اطراف جهان میپراکند شیلن! زندان تو مکانی مقدس است. زمین تو حکم پلکان کلیسائی را دارد، که از فرط عبور پارسایان، جای قدمهای ایشان در آن مانده است. به جان «بونیوارد» قسم، که گویی کف هر سیاهچال تو محرابی ست. خدا کند هیچ یک از این نشانها محو نشود، زیرا اینها از دست ظلم، به خداوند پناه برده اند 1 موهای سر من خاکستری شده ... ا. شربیانی

  2. 4 out of 5

    Dolors

    My first contact with the most known satanical Romantic poet hasn’t disappointed. Lord Byron emerges in his poems as the immensely popular hero, defiant, melancholic, haunted by secret guilt, the eternal scandalous irreverent freethinker. We are the fools of Time and Terror: Days Steal on us, and steal from us; yet we live, Loathing our life, and dreading still to die . Manfred Although this selection doesn’t include his famous Don Juan , I have found plenty of passion and strong emotion in his My first contact with the most known satanical Romantic poet hasn’t disappointed. Lord Byron emerges in his poems as the immensely popular hero, defiant, melancholic, haunted by secret guilt, the eternal scandalous irreverent freethinker. We are the fools of Time and Terror: Days Steal on us, and steal from us; yet we live, Loathing our life, and dreading still to die . Manfred Although this selection doesn’t include his famous Don Juan , I have found plenty of passion and strong emotion in his stanzas, specially in Cain: a Mystery , where he keeps defying not only religious convention, giving Lucifer a clergyman voice: (Speaking about Lucifer) CAIN. He is God. ADAH. How know’st thou? CAIN. He speaks like A God. ADAH. So did the Serpent, and it lied. but also unashamedly proclaiming his widely known extravagant views on relationships in, for example, making ADAH not only CAIN’s sister but also his wife and lover. Writer of metaphysical poems, like his famous Manfred, Byron rejects the Wordsworthian belief in the benevolence of Nature and insists on the independence and self-sufficiency of the human mind, which doesn’t bow to any supernatural authority. I have not been thy dupe nor am thy prey, But was my own destroyer, and will be My own hereafter. – Back, ye baffled fiends! The hand of death is on me – but not yours! At the same time though, I find a kind of paradox in Byron’s style and the content of his poems. His almost neoclassical order and formal discipline collide with his exulting ideas impregnated with vigorous thoughts of liberty and satirical criticism. Tyranny Is far the worst of treasons. Dost thou deem None rebels except subjects? The prince who Neglects or violates his trust is more A brigand than the robber-chief. The Two Foscari But one thing in common in all his poems is this new figure of the Gothic Hero-Villain full of pride, courage, and even noble virtues such as honor and altruism; but also moody, remorseful, alienated and oppressed creatures, left to dwell in loneliness and incomprehension. Difficult to tell whether Byron was absorbed into his own created characters or he projected his myriad experiences through them. In any case, I find great appeal in this flawed new anti-hero, sensing original motivations behind Byron’s works. Lacking the inhibitions of his contemporaries, he created verse that is exuberant, spontaneous, digressive and lucid, a celebration of an “unadorned reality.” One can’t help but admire him. With all his debauchery and flaws.

  3. 5 out of 5

    Matthew Ted

    103rd book of 2020. I was surprised how much I absolutely adored this. Byron is now my definitive poet, my favourite. And this book will join the ranks of my favourites. Byron Road Sign in my Hometown - Photo by Me. Concerning the selection of poems in this book, Byron's poetry moves from horribly nostalgic and wistful, to funny and witty, to heartbreakingly beautiful, to wonderful narratives... All with his incredible control, and impeccable rhyme. Some stanzas just spoke right to me, straight fr 103rd book of 2020. I was surprised how much I absolutely adored this. Byron is now my definitive poet, my favourite. And this book will join the ranks of my favourites. Byron Road Sign in my Hometown - Photo by Me. Concerning the selection of poems in this book, Byron's poetry moves from horribly nostalgic and wistful, to funny and witty, to heartbreakingly beautiful, to wonderful narratives... All with his incredible control, and impeccable rhyme. Some stanzas just spoke right to me, straight from the yellowed pages. These moments are the reason I read. It makes my mind spiral - how does it happen sometimes, with such clarity that we disbelieve mere coincidence - that what we are reading aids us, or reflects something, that we are feeling at the time. That Byron, through countless generations issues me a thought, a line, that pierces the fleshy part of my soul. These are some of the greatest poems I have ever read. Byron is a privilege to read and a reminder, of what a privilege all reading is, what knowledge and beauty it imparts on us. I'm going to move into quoting some of my favourite stanzas, before I type incessantly all night about how brilliant Byron is, until my words lose all meaning and I just become a rambling idiot. Almost there. 'When We Two Parted' is perhaps Byron's most well-known poem, and most loved. Though the whole poem is beautiful, I would say that its reputation is worthy of just the final stanza: In secret we met— In silence I grieve, That thy heart could forget, Thy spirit deceive. If I should meet thee After long years, How should I greet thee?— With silence and tears. And, now I will say: 'The Prisoner of Chillon' is up there, in my mind, as one of the greatest poems I've ever read. The final stanza reflects, in a way beyond me, or maybe anyone but Byron, how I feel as lockdown comes to an end, and we begin to emerge from our 'caves'. It might be months, or years, or days— I kept no count, I took no note— I had no hope my eyes to raise, And clear them of their dreary mote; At last men came to set me free; I ask'd not why, and reck'd not where; It was at length the same to me, Fetter'd or fetterless to be, I learn'd to love despair. And thus when they appear'd at last, And all my bonds aside were cast, These heavy walls to me had grown A hermitage—and all my own! And half I felt as they were come To tear me from a second home: With spiders I had friendship made And watch'd them in their sullen trade, Had seen the mice by moonlight play, And why should I feel less than they? We were all inmates of one place, And I, the monarch of each race, Had power to kill—yet, strange to tell! In quiet we had learn'd to dwell; My very chains and I grew friends, So much a long communion tends To make us what we are:—even I Regain'd my freedom with a sigh.

  4. 5 out of 5

    Kelly

    You either love Byron or you hate him. And it should probably come as no surprise that I absolutely adore him. The original goth-emo boy. Man did it with style, though. His life is fascinating, ridiculous, over the top. Watching his journey through poetry is just amazing, watching how throughly his sorrows and his fantasy life consumes him. Byron's fantasies are beautifully put down through his poetry. It's a shame, but not a surprise, that those fantasies are what ultimately killed him. You either love Byron or you hate him. And it should probably come as no surprise that I absolutely adore him. The original goth-emo boy. Man did it with style, though. His life is fascinating, ridiculous, over the top. Watching his journey through poetry is just amazing, watching how throughly his sorrows and his fantasy life consumes him. Byron's fantasies are beautifully put down through his poetry. It's a shame, but not a surprise, that those fantasies are what ultimately killed him.

  5. 4 out of 5

    Morgan

    I only read this because of the sexy cover. Actually, that is half true. Lord Byron is a pretty well known poet. Most people have heard his name and kind of know about his colorful life. He was a lover of women (and men) and animals (not sexually LOL). He was involved in politics and was a world traveler. He was in very good shape and known for his aesthetics. He was acquaintances with several other famous authors at the time most famously Percy Bysshe Shelley. His daughter, Ada Lovelace, even bec I only read this because of the sexy cover. Actually, that is half true. Lord Byron is a pretty well known poet. Most people have heard his name and kind of know about his colorful life. He was a lover of women (and men) and animals (not sexually LOL). He was involved in politics and was a world traveler. He was in very good shape and known for his aesthetics. He was acquaintances with several other famous authors at the time most famously Percy Bysshe Shelley. His daughter, Ada Lovelace, even became an important figure in computer science, although she was forbidden to see him during her lifetime. It seems though, not many have read his poetry. I remember mentioning reading him before and I think I turned some people off. Lord Byron I feel like has a "bad boy" reputation. You can kind of see why with the women he slept with and one of his wives left him, for a silly reason if you ask me. During his time, poets weren't that well respected. Hence why Ada's mother left him and told Ada to become a scientist instead. Fast forward today and I can kind of see this hasn't changed much, but it is better. My point is, Byron, I feel, kind of gets misinterpreted these days. I loved his poetry and his writing. I can't really tell you which poem of his I liked best, but there are many lines I ended up loving. I like how he was into aesthetics, not only with his own body image, but with his words and descriptions as well. I kind of wish I was taught more of his works in college. I possibly read one poem of his in college, but if I did I have no memory of reading him before except that "She walks in beauty" poem that I read in the Graphic Cannon series. As much as I loved Byron, there is a little annoyance I had with him. One of them is footnotes. I liked that Penguin included his own footnotes and preferences and whatnot, but talk about an early David Foster Wallace. Some of the footnotes are a page length themselves. Honestly, I skipped some of them because they didn't help me understand the poems. Also, not really a complaint, but Byron sure knows howto write some long poems. These aren't read before bed poems. With some, you read one poem for the day and need a break before you start the next. There are a few plays in this as well. I think it might be best to save Don Juan for another day. Also, I still am fascinated with the story of Byron and his pet bear he brought to college. I feel like that needs to be a children's book. Actually, I'd love to find a well written biography of Byron. Damn his family for burning his memoirs!

  6. 4 out of 5

    E. G.

    Introduction & Notes Table of Dates Further Reading A Note on This Edition --A Fragment ('When, to their airy hall, my fathers' voice') --To Woman --The Cornelian --To Caroline ('You say you love, and yet your eye') --English Bards and Scotch Reviewers: A Satire --Lines to Mr Hodgson (Written on Board the Lisbon Packet) --Maid of Athens, ere we part --Written after Swimming from Sestos to Abydos --To Thyrza Childe Harold's Pilgrimage: A Romaunt, Cantos I-II Preface to the First and Second Cantos Addition to th Introduction & Notes Table of Dates Further Reading A Note on This Edition --A Fragment ('When, to their airy hall, my fathers' voice') --To Woman --The Cornelian --To Caroline ('You say you love, and yet your eye') --English Bards and Scotch Reviewers: A Satire --Lines to Mr Hodgson (Written on Board the Lisbon Packet) --Maid of Athens, ere we part --Written after Swimming from Sestos to Abydos --To Thyrza Childe Harold's Pilgrimage: A Romaunt, Cantos I-II Preface to the First and Second Cantos Addition to the Preface --To Ianthe --Canto the First --Canto the Second Appendix to Canto the Second --An Ode to the Framers of the Frame Bill --Lines to a Lady Weeping --The Waltz: An Apostrophic Hymn --Remember Thee! Remember Thee! --The Giaour: A Fragment of a Turkish Tale --The Bridge of Abydos: A Turkish Tale --The Corsair: A Tale --Ode to Napoleon Buonaparte --Stanzas for Music --She walks in beauty --Lara: A Tale --The Destruction of Sennacherib --Napoleon's Farewell (From the French) --From the French ('Must thou go, my glorious Chief') --The Siege of Corinth --When we two parted --Fare thee well! --Prometheus --The Prisoner of Chillon: A Fable and Sonnet on Chillon --Darkness --Childe Harold's Pilgrimage: A Romaunt, Canto III --Epistle to Augusta ('My sister! my sweet sister!' &c.) --Lines (On Hearing that Lady Byron was Ill) --Manfred: A Dramatic Poem --So, we'll go no more a roving --Childe Harold's Pilgrimage: A Romaunt, Canto IV --Epistle from Mr Murray to Dr Polidori ('Dear Doctor, I have read your play') --Beppo: A Venetian Story --Epistle to Mr Murray ('My dear Mr Murray') --Mazeppa --Stanzas to the Po --The Isles of Greece --Francesca of Rimini. From the Inferno of Dante, Canto the Fifth --Stanzas ('When a man hath no freedom') --Sardanapalus: A Tragedy --Who kill'd John Keats? --The Blues: A Literary Eclogue --The Vision of Judgment --On This Day I Complete My Thirty-Sixth Year Notes Works Cited in the Notes Index of Titles Index of First Lines

  7. 4 out of 5

    Steven Godin

    There be none of beauty's daughters With a magic like thee; And like magic on the waters Is thy sweet voice to me: When, as if its sound were causing The charmed ocean's pausing, The waves lie still and gleaming, And the lulled winds seem dreaming: And the midnight moon is weaving Her bright chain o'er the deep; Whose breast is gently heaving, As an infant's asleep: So the spirit bows before thee, To listen and adore thee; With a full but soft emotion, Like the swell of summer's ocean. - - - The child of love—th There be none of beauty's daughters With a magic like thee; And like magic on the waters Is thy sweet voice to me: When, as if its sound were causing The charmed ocean's pausing, The waves lie still and gleaming, And the lulled winds seem dreaming: And the midnight moon is weaving Her bright chain o'er the deep; Whose breast is gently heaving, As an infant's asleep: So the spirit bows before thee, To listen and adore thee; With a full but soft emotion, Like the swell of summer's ocean. - - - The child of love—though born in bitterness, And nutured in convulsion—of thy sire These were the elements—and thine no less. As yet such are around thee—but thy fire Shall be more tempered, and thy hope far higher. Sweet be thy cradled slumbers! O'er the sea, And from the mountains where I now respire, Fain would I waft such blessing upon thee, As, with a sigh, I deem thou might'st have been to me! - - - Tis pity learned virigins ever wed With persons of no sort of education, Or gentlemen, who, though well-born and bred, Grow tired of scientific conversation: I don't choose to say much upon this head, I'm a plain man, and in a single station, But—Oh! ye lords of ladies intellectual, Inform us truly, have they not hen-peck'd you all?

  8. 5 out of 5

    Nick Black

    Lord Byron was, until the age of biological engineering, pretty much the zenith of human development. Lord knows what he could have done with 80mg per diem sustained release Adderall® {dextro}?amphetamine salts or, like, elephant pituitary extracts, or hell even some Centrum and antibiotics instead of therapeutic bleeding, but it's exciting to read him (or about him) and ponder what'll happen when we can start giving people three hearts each, like octopodes. Lord Byron was, until the age of biological engineering, pretty much the zenith of human development. Lord knows what he could have done with 80mg per diem sustained release Adderall® {dextro}?amphetamine salts or, like, elephant pituitary extracts, or hell even some Centrum and antibiotics instead of therapeutic bleeding, but it's exciting to read him (or about him) and ponder what'll happen when we can start giving people three hearts each, like octopodes.

  9. 5 out of 5

    Ryan Diezi

    When Lord Byron was still a student living in a run-down ancestral home, he dug up the skull of a long-dead distant relative, made it into a wine cup, and had the following lines inscribed on it: “Start not—nor deem my spirit fled: In me behold the only skull From which, unlike a living head, Whatever flows is never dull. I lived, I loved, I quaffed like thee; I died: let earth my bones resign: Fill up—thou canst not injure me; The worm hath fouler lips than thine.” Byron could have written those stanza When Lord Byron was still a student living in a run-down ancestral home, he dug up the skull of a long-dead distant relative, made it into a wine cup, and had the following lines inscribed on it: “Start not—nor deem my spirit fled: In me behold the only skull From which, unlike a living head, Whatever flows is never dull. I lived, I loved, I quaffed like thee; I died: let earth my bones resign: Fill up—thou canst not injure me; The worm hath fouler lips than thine.” Byron could have written those stanzas about himself. Nothing dull ever flowed from his own skull, and all the gossip of two centuries has not been able to damage the perennial fascination with his person. Reputation 4/5 As in his own lifetime, Byron’s person is still more famous than his poetry – at least in England. Outside his own country, Byron is one of the world’s favorite poets. He is the embodiment of Romanticism everywhere. In Germany and Russia, he is the second greatest poet after Shakespeare. In Albania and Greece, he is a folk hero. But in England, he is considered a pervert and a poet below the ranks of Keats and even Blake. Point – 5/5 One feat of irony in which the English are uniquely gifted is their neglect of their homegrown originality. Several times in English history an individual has rounded up the entire philosophical idea of his age and then been promptly forgotten by his countrymen, only to be taken in full by another European nation. Newton is an example of this. His “Natural Philosophy” was a foundational block of the Age of Reason. The French understood it and ran with it all the way to political revolution, and the English ignored it insofar as it did not make money. Lord Byron embodied the entire Romantic movement in his person and wrote its narrative in his verse. He combined the new Romantic sentiment with the linguistic fluency of his favorite poet, Alexander Pope. For about two decades all of Europe fell under his influence. And his influence was not the abstract influence of reinterpretation a hundred or two hundred years after his death (not like Blake or Van Gogh), but the immediate fire of inspiration to two poets of supreme genius, Goethe and Pushkin, - both of whom admired him endlessly - and to a whole generation of artists like Delacroix and Turner, who illustrated his works. His influence was not reinterpreted, but taken directly on Byron’s own terms. One could say that his influence was deliberate. He made artists in his own image, his personality became a style, and he profited on it all the while. Byron’s influence was felt more in Europe than in England partly because he was, himself, more influenced by continental poetry than by Antique or English tradition. Much of his later poetry is written in Italian forms like ottava rima, and Byron stayed as far from the traditional English blank verse epic as possible. From his earliest youth he considered English poetry to be in a state of pitiful decline, and spared no insult for its contemporary practitioners like Wordsworth (whom he called “Turdsworth”) and Robert Southey. Robert Southey was then poet laureate and a favorite of the monarchy, but he made a fatal mistake picking a fight with Byron. Poor Southey had written a poem called A Vision of Judgement about the recently deceased King George III being accepted into Heaven, and in it, he threw a few jabs at Byron’s “satanic” lifestyle. Byron responded with his own definitive THE Vision of Judgement, in which Saint Peter casts Southey out of Heaven the moment the poet starts reciting his own defense of King George. "Saint Peter, who has hitherto been known For an impetuous saint, upraised his keys, And at the fifth line knock’d the poet down; Who fell like Phaeton, but more at ease, Into his lake, for there he did not drown; A different web being by the Destinies Woven for the Laureates final wreath, whene’er Reform shall happen either here or there. He first sank to the bottom—like his works, But soon rose to the surface—like himself; For all corrupted things are buoy’d like corks, By their own rottenness, light as an elf, Or wisp that flits o’er a morass: he lurks, It may be, still, like dull books on a shelf, In his own den, to scrawl some ‘Life’ or ‘Vision,’ As Welborn says—‘the devil turn’d precisian.’" It is easily the harshest roast in the history of English poetry. Southey was so completely obliterated by it that his work is still out of print two centuries later. Besides his devastating wit, Byron could tell a good story. During his lifetime, his narrative poems sold by the thousands in the original and in translation. They seduced everyone from the most brainless French schoolgirl to Goethe. And though they’re hardly read today, this collection does include one of Byron’s most perfect short narrative works. Beppo is Don Juan in miniature. Ninety-nine stanzas of ottava rima with Byron’s unmistakable voice of light-hearted humor, cosmopolitanism, and constant digression. It is ostensibly the Venetian story of what happens at home when a man is presumed lost at sea, but the story is really just a vehicle for Byron’s comparisons between English and Italian morals and their attitudes to adultery. You can probably imagine whose society Byron preferred. The Italians and every other European race returned the preference, then and now. And today, while the English still turn their noses up at him, public monuments to Byron can be found all over Europe. Recommendation – 3/5 Byron is still a controversial figure, and there must be plenty of people who refuse to read him on moral grounds. There can be plenty of objections to his character – to how he lived his life and to his general harshness and pessimism. And his character is so transparently seen in his work that it remains his biggest refutation today. After all, our own age is probably just as morally condescending and judgmental as Byron’s, if not more. But if you’re not easily offended and prefer poetry that is energetic and shrewd, then you can do no better than Byron. This small selection features plenty of his most famous shorter works, as well as two longer pieces I have already mentioned Beppo and The Vision of Judgment. Byron’s two great long works, Childe Harold’s Pilgrimmage and Don Juan are absent. They are, by common consensus, his best stuff, but they're just too long to be included in this slim volume. Personal – 5/5 Byron has been my favorite poet since childhood. There were a few years where I deliberately neglected him, because I came under the influence of literary highbrows who would say that an inordinate appreciation of his poetry is juvenile. But fuck them. Byron would’ve ripped them apart in verse, as he did every stuck up, boring snob in his own day, and anyway, you should like what you like. I like Byron’s poetry because it’s forceful and vivid, while always remaining easy to read. It’s always sharp - nothing about Byron was ever dull. And I like Byron’s character because he’s incomparably fascinating. He was a genius poet and a crazy rake, a society dandy and a fierce rebel who ended his days on a wild expedition to liberate Greece from the Turks. It’s hard to imagine that Byron’s fame will ever again reach the heights it reached in his own lifetime. At one point Byron was the second most famous name in Europe after Napoleon. With that in mind, I bring up a reflection Arthur Conan Doyle once made about Napoleon: “If the effect is inconclusive and natural, I may excuse myself by saying that after studying all the evidence which was available, I was still unable to determine whether I was dealing with a great hero or with a great scoundrel. Of the adjective only could I be sure.” The lines could have been written about Byron.

  10. 4 out of 5

    Sarah

    My review of Childe Harold is here! My reivew of Don Juan is here! I have to admit that Byron took me a really, really long time to finish. I am not sure if I can put my finger on why that is, but he's taken much longer to read than other poets, even others from his very own time period. Long story short, I find his poetry to be a little harder to follow- to compare to Keats, who is my favorite poet, I can say this: Keats has a flow to his poetry that I can't find in Byron's poetry, and while I ca My review of Childe Harold is here! My reivew of Don Juan is here! I have to admit that Byron took me a really, really long time to finish. I am not sure if I can put my finger on why that is, but he's taken much longer to read than other poets, even others from his very own time period. Long story short, I find his poetry to be a little harder to follow- to compare to Keats, who is my favorite poet, I can say this: Keats has a flow to his poetry that I can't find in Byron's poetry, and while I can't say that I don't enjoy Byron, I don't enjoy it as much as Keats. I am afraid that I might be a bit more fixated on this fact than I should be, but hey, that's the way it is... I thoroughly enjoy the longer works of Byron, excluding the plays and early satires. "Childe Harold's Pilgrimage" is a wonderful work, and probably the most masterful work that Byron ever put out there. The regret that I have is that there's something in that work that made me think "Oh, this must mean that his other poems are going to be like this! Great!" I think I ran into a little fallacy there- like I mentioned before, the satires and plays that take up so much space in this collection tend to be a bit more boring that I'd like them to be, chock-full of allusions that seem to be a go-to for many poets as well as talking about many issues that I cannot relate to myself. I regret not finding more enjoyment in reading this poetry, but I cannot change what I know to be true: Byron fell a bit flat for me, perhaps warranting a revisit and reevaluation in the future.

  11. 4 out of 5

    Jeremy

    Well, so far I've learned that skulls make excellent goblets for wine. Better than the thoughts it contained in life! Byron may have romanticized about women, but he also hid men in there as well. I find a lot of it hard to read but I end up reading this in a really broken fashion. I work at a call center where I can't really enjoy it between calls, then at home I'm always gardening, eating, cooking, shopping, or facebooking so I read a poem a day at the most. Where I was going with that is that I Well, so far I've learned that skulls make excellent goblets for wine. Better than the thoughts it contained in life! Byron may have romanticized about women, but he also hid men in there as well. I find a lot of it hard to read but I end up reading this in a really broken fashion. I work at a call center where I can't really enjoy it between calls, then at home I'm always gardening, eating, cooking, shopping, or facebooking so I read a poem a day at the most. Where I was going with that is that I may not be the most credible source to write a review but I know I went into it expecting a certain something and I haven't fully gotten that yet. It's been hinted at that he's going where I want him to but he never quite gets there. I may just be looking for Edgar Alan Poe in the wrong place if you know what I mean. I did begin with the Cantos' and they were loooong, but I made it through anyway, just in case, to no avail. Now, I have made it to shorter poems. Only a few have struck my fancy so far. I'm hoping there's a lot more than a few that will really get me, I'm only halfway through so far.

  12. 5 out of 5

    Edita

    When we two parted In silence and tears, Half broken-hearted To sever for years , Pale grew thy cheek and cold, Colder thy kiss; Truly that hour foretold Sorrow to this. The dew of the morning Sunk chill on my brow - It felt like the warning Of what I feel now. Thy vows are all broken, And light is thy fame: I hear thy name spoken, And share in its shame. They name thee before me, A knell to mine ear; A shudder comes o'er me - Why wert thou so dear? They know not I knew thee, Who knew thee too well: - Long, long sh When we two parted In silence and tears, Half broken-hearted To sever for years , Pale grew thy cheek and cold, Colder thy kiss; Truly that hour foretold Sorrow to this. The dew of the morning Sunk chill on my brow - It felt like the warning Of what I feel now. Thy vows are all broken, And light is thy fame: I hear thy name spoken, And share in its shame. They name thee before me, A knell to mine ear; A shudder comes o'er me - Why wert thou so dear? They know not I knew thee, Who knew thee too well: - Long, long shall I rue thee , Too deeply t o tell. In secret we met - In silence I grieve, That thy heart could forget, Thy spirit deceive. If I should meet thee After long years, How should I greet thee? - With silence and tears.

  13. 4 out of 5

    Roman Clodia

    Byron has been a perennially fascinating personality since he lived, hence the number of biographies on him in print, but I wonder how many people have actually read his poetry? This is a fine place to start. All the dramatic narratives are here: Childe Harolde's Pilgrimage, Mazeppa, The Giaour, Lara, The Bride of Abydos, The Corsair - as well as some of the famours lyrics such as 'So we'll go no more a roving'. If you've never read Byron, then you might be surprised at the sheer narrative drive Byron has been a perennially fascinating personality since he lived, hence the number of biographies on him in print, but I wonder how many people have actually read his poetry? This is a fine place to start. All the dramatic narratives are here: Childe Harolde's Pilgrimage, Mazeppa, The Giaour, Lara, The Bride of Abydos, The Corsair - as well as some of the famours lyrics such as 'So we'll go no more a roving'. If you've never read Byron, then you might be surprised at the sheer narrative drive of these poems that keep you reading, even without the beautiful language. Always atmospheric (especially in the Eastern tales) Byron for me has always been one of the poets with the strongest sense of musicality and rhythm in his writing. Unfortunately the shorter poems and lyrics are in a separate volume, as is Don Juan, but this is a wonderful collection all the same whether you're familiar with Byron or not. The Penguin volume has also been well-edited with notes, so it's helpful if you're studying Byron. Altogether an excellent collection.

  14. 4 out of 5

    James Henderson

    It seems appropriate to briefly meditate upon the poetry of Lord Byron on any date including this, his birth date. In particular I turn to his poem 'On this Day I complete my Thirty-Sixth Year'. This poem appeals to me neither for the greatness of its lines nor the acuity of its poetic strains, but for the beauty and sadness of its meditative thought. The opening stanza, for example: "'Tis time this heart should be unmoved, Since others it hath ceased to move: Yet, though I cannot be beloved, Still It seems appropriate to briefly meditate upon the poetry of Lord Byron on any date including this, his birth date. In particular I turn to his poem 'On this Day I complete my Thirty-Sixth Year'. This poem appeals to me neither for the greatness of its lines nor the acuity of its poetic strains, but for the beauty and sadness of its meditative thought. The opening stanza, for example: "'Tis time this heart should be unmoved, Since others it hath ceased to move: Yet, though I cannot be beloved, Still let me love!" Byron's passion for his young Greek page, however unrequited, reminds me of similar feelings shared by so many of us in the ensuing years. He goes on to recount the fear of aging and the pain of his longing among other feelings. I wonder if he would have traded a few more years of such feelings for the few months that remained in his brief life?

  15. 4 out of 5

    Sebastian Porta

    I didn't know how much I loved the English language until I read Lord Byron She Walks in Beauty She walks in beauty, like the night Of cloudless climes and starry skies; And all that’s best of dark and bright Meet in her aspect and her eyes; Thus mellowed to that tender light Which heaven to gaudy day denies. One shade the more, one ray the less, Had half impaired the nameless grace Which waves in every raven tress, Or softly lightens over her face; Where thoughts serenely sweet express, How pure, how dear t I didn't know how much I loved the English language until I read Lord Byron She Walks in Beauty She walks in beauty, like the night Of cloudless climes and starry skies; And all that’s best of dark and bright Meet in her aspect and her eyes; Thus mellowed to that tender light Which heaven to gaudy day denies. One shade the more, one ray the less, Had half impaired the nameless grace Which waves in every raven tress, Or softly lightens over her face; Where thoughts serenely sweet express, How pure, how dear their dwelling-place. And on that cheek, and over that brow, So soft, so calm, yet eloquent, The smiles that win, the tints that glow, But tell of days in goodness spent, A mind at peace with all below, A heart whose love is innocent.

  16. 5 out of 5

    theivorypiano

    Lord "dramatic ass of million words" Byron Lord "dramatic ass of million words" Byron

  17. 5 out of 5

    Christine

    What can anyone truly say about Byron? There is something about the man that makes him stand out. Take a look at those who were writing at the same time. There is a charm, an perfect charm, about John Keats's poetry, but Shelley, we know Shelley because of Mary, because she worked so hard to insure his legacy. Byron, on the other hands, so is much larger than life. It's true that some of this image comes from his personal life. What can you say about a man who slept with his half sister and other What can anyone truly say about Byron? There is something about the man that makes him stand out. Take a look at those who were writing at the same time. There is a charm, an perfect charm, about John Keats's poetry, but Shelley, we know Shelley because of Mary, because she worked so hard to insure his legacy. Byron, on the other hands, so is much larger than life. It's true that some of this image comes from his personal life. What can you say about a man who slept with his half sister and other women, whose daughter was brillant at maths, whose morality was both questionable and strict. He was a walking oxymoron. He was a walking oxymoron because he was human. There lies Byron's attraction. Take a look at his poetry, and the reader can see him working though various stages and personal issues. He might never sound conflicted when reading his biographies, but he sure sounds conflicted in some of his poetry. Moralstic but immoral - he writes about incest but was horrified that Shelly might have slept with two (step) sisters. It is very easy to see John William Polidori's vampire in Byron. Easy to see the snake ensnaring the rabbit. That's Byron's attraction.

  18. 5 out of 5

    Monica

    GGLB is one of the best when it comes to romantic poetry. Over dramatic, yes, but there's something... I don't know, hmmm... this really nice feeling I get when I read his poems. Came across The Destruction of Sennacherib way back High School and have loved (still loves) his work ever since. When we two parted In silence and tears, Half broken-hearted To sever for years, Pale grew thy cheek and cold, Colder thy kiss; Truly that hour foretold Sorrow to this. The dew of the morning Sank chill on my brow-- I GGLB is one of the best when it comes to romantic poetry. Over dramatic, yes, but there's something... I don't know, hmmm... this really nice feeling I get when I read his poems. Came across The Destruction of Sennacherib way back High School and have loved (still loves) his work ever since. When we two parted In silence and tears, Half broken-hearted To sever for years, Pale grew thy cheek and cold, Colder thy kiss; Truly that hour foretold Sorrow to this. The dew of the morning Sank chill on my brow-- It felt like the warning Of what I feel now. Thy vows are all broken, And light is thy fame; I hear thy name spoken, And share in its shame. They name thee before me, A knell in mine ear; A shudder come o'er me-- Why wert thou so dear? They know not I knew thee, Who knew thee too well-- Long, long shall I rue thee, Too deeply to tell. In secret we met-- In silence I grieve, That thy heart could forget, Thy spirit deceive. If I should meet thee After long years, How should I greet thee?-- With silence and tears.

  19. 5 out of 5

    GoldGato

    Thank god for Penguin classics, they always make the weighty stuff seem so manageable for mere mortals. Case in point, Byron. If you are a collector of real books, you know that his entire collection is rather large, so it's nice to have a mass paperback version that can be held in the hand. Byron was a truly strange dude, compared to his contemporaries. Today, he would be the Kelly Slater of poets, probably surfing Malibu while writing verses in the sand. His death was tragic, which made his poe Thank god for Penguin classics, they always make the weighty stuff seem so manageable for mere mortals. Case in point, Byron. If you are a collector of real books, you know that his entire collection is rather large, so it's nice to have a mass paperback version that can be held in the hand. Byron was a truly strange dude, compared to his contemporaries. Today, he would be the Kelly Slater of poets, probably surfing Malibu while writing verses in the sand. His death was tragic, which made his poems even more so. Penguin does a truly terrific job in putting together some of his shorter poems with his Childe Harold and Don Juan opuses. With this book, and a bottle of Red Ranch cherry cider, I shall go no more a-roving so late into the night. Book Season = Spring (when the day returns too soon)

  20. 4 out of 5

    Gözde Yeşilsefa

    "She Walks in Beauty She walks in beauty like the night of cloudless climes and starry skies; And all that's best of dark and bright meets in her aspect and her eyes: Thus mellow'd to that tender light which heaven to gaudy day denies. One shade the more, one ray the less, had half impair'd the nameless grace which waves in every raven tress, or softly lightens o'er her face - where thoughts serenely sweet express how pure, how dear their dwelling - place. And on that cheek, and o'er that brow, so soft, so ca "She Walks in Beauty She walks in beauty like the night of cloudless climes and starry skies; And all that's best of dark and bright meets in her aspect and her eyes: Thus mellow'd to that tender light which heaven to gaudy day denies. One shade the more, one ray the less, had half impair'd the nameless grace which waves in every raven tress, or softly lightens o'er her face - where thoughts serenely sweet express how pure, how dear their dwelling - place. And on that cheek, and o'er that brow, so soft, so calm, yet eloquent, the smiles that win, the tints that glow, but tells in days of goodness spent, a mind at peace with all below, a heart whose love is innocent." Lord Byron

  21. 5 out of 5

    Bradley Clacy

    An average poet, though dark and deep for his time. I only really liked the excerpts from Childe Harold's Pilgrimage and a few of the shorter poems. An average poet, though dark and deep for his time. I only really liked the excerpts from Childe Harold's Pilgrimage and a few of the shorter poems.

  22. 5 out of 5

    Lumpen_Proletariat

    I skim-read for research; I have an upcoming presentation that I am giving on Romanticism. Will return to this book for a more thorough read in future!

  23. 4 out of 5

    Aaron Eames

    Himalayan in range, a much-contoured country; Byron’s verse is an atlas by Atlas. Self-conscious, more poet than poetry, More person than persona. The cutlass, The divan, romance and comedy; From fashion to a tomb in Hellas. All told there’s but one point that irks, A grievous fault: it isn’t his “Works”.

  24. 5 out of 5

    Julia

    Byron's beautiful poems were not as addicting to me as Keats's are. But, as Romantic poetry goes he is one of the best! There's no way I could appreciate the poems fully without reading up on the poet himself. Well, all I can say is that he was some ladies man (and mans man since he was most likely gay but that is another discussion entirely). He certainly seemed a bit tortured by his emotions... This book was quite long and I must confess that I did not have the strength to power through it cove Byron's beautiful poems were not as addicting to me as Keats's are. But, as Romantic poetry goes he is one of the best! There's no way I could appreciate the poems fully without reading up on the poet himself. Well, all I can say is that he was some ladies man (and mans man since he was most likely gay but that is another discussion entirely). He certainly seemed a bit tortured by his emotions... This book was quite long and I must confess that I did not have the strength to power through it cover to cover. I started out strong but since Byron likes to write long poems, I did not have the chance of reading them all and read mostly shorter poems. Although actually now that I am writing this review, I will definitely go back and read Beppo before I have to return this book to the library hahaha :3 Although he's not my favorite, Byron is a must for anyone who loves poetry from the Romantic period (and come on who can resist "She Walks In Beauty"?)

  25. 5 out of 5

    Shaunt

    When, to their airy hall, my Fathers' voice Shall call my spirit, joyful in their choice; When, pois'd upon the gale, my form shall ride, Or, dark in mist, descend the mountain's side; Oh! may my shade behold no sculptur'd urns, To mark the spot where earth to earth returns! No lengthen'd scroll, no praise-encumber'd stone; My epitaph shall be my name alone: If that with honour fail to crown my clay, Oh! may no other fame my deeds repay! That, only that, shall single out the spot; By that remem When, to their airy hall, my Fathers' voice Shall call my spirit, joyful in their choice; When, pois'd upon the gale, my form shall ride, Or, dark in mist, descend the mountain's side; Oh! may my shade behold no sculptur'd urns, To mark the spot where earth to earth returns! No lengthen'd scroll, no praise-encumber'd stone; My epitaph shall be my name alone: If that with honour fail to crown my clay, Oh! may no other fame my deeds repay! That, only that, shall single out the spot; By that remember'd, or with that forgot.

  26. 5 out of 5

    Barrett

    i love how the "Complete Works" rolls in at a weighty 1100 pages, yet "Selected Poems" only whittles it to the oh-so-manageable 800. solid. currently reading Bulfinch's Mythology The Age of Fable or Stories of Gods and Heroes, which references scads of Byron's mythological allusions. my interest, it is piqued. i love how the "Complete Works" rolls in at a weighty 1100 pages, yet "Selected Poems" only whittles it to the oh-so-manageable 800. solid. currently reading Bulfinch's Mythology The Age of Fable or Stories of Gods and Heroes, which references scads of Byron's mythological allusions. my interest, it is piqued.

  27. 4 out of 5

    Sunny

    really nice in places bit boring in others .. or maybe i didt have the patiance to fully apprecaite what he w writing ... a few of my favourite bits in it ... If I should meet thee After long years, How should I greet thee?-- With silence and tears. In the desert a fountain is springing, In the wide waste there still is a tree, And a bird in the solitude singing, Which speaks to my spirit of thee.

  28. 4 out of 5

    Robert

    Byron is my poet for 2014. He seems to be really good, but I just read a 1000 line satire of a bunch of critics that hated his first book of poetry. I guess you had to be there. It really was good--lots of ballads; the stories would recur in my brain on runs, swims or bikes. It's kind of nice to read poetry out loud. I was reading a poem to sister Sarah, and we have a new phrase (after going for a long walk), "My dogs are harking!" Byron is my poet for 2014. He seems to be really good, but I just read a 1000 line satire of a bunch of critics that hated his first book of poetry. I guess you had to be there. It really was good--lots of ballads; the stories would recur in my brain on runs, swims or bikes. It's kind of nice to read poetry out loud. I was reading a poem to sister Sarah, and we have a new phrase (after going for a long walk), "My dogs are harking!"

  29. 4 out of 5

    Javier

    This verse from "Beppo" describes exactly what New Yorkers feel often during our daily commute or walking through the streets: "One of those forms which flit by us, when we Are young and fix our eyes on every face; And, oh! the loveliness at times we see In momentary gliding, the soft grace, The youth, the bloom, the beauty which agree, In many a nameless being we retrace, Whose course and home we knew not, nor shall know..." This verse from "Beppo" describes exactly what New Yorkers feel often during our daily commute or walking through the streets: "One of those forms which flit by us, when we Are young and fix our eyes on every face; And, oh! the loveliness at times we see In momentary gliding, the soft grace, The youth, the bloom, the beauty which agree, In many a nameless being we retrace, Whose course and home we knew not, nor shall know..."

  30. 4 out of 5

    Kael Nevets

    few men of letters in my opinion could stand in his shadow,his use of queens English,mixed with his own more modern along with his passions are remarkable. I learned if nothing more how rich and passionate the English language can be in poetry.

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