George Gordon Noel Byron ( 10 of 329 )
For I am a weed,
Flung from the rock, on Ocean's foam, to sail,
Where'er the surge read more
For I am a weed,
Flung from the rock, on Ocean's foam, to sail,
Where'er the surge may sweep, the tempest's breath prevail.
My days are in the yellow leaf;
The flowers and fruits of love are gone;
The worm, read more
My days are in the yellow leaf;
The flowers and fruits of love are gone;
The worm, the canker, and the grief
Are mine alone!
- Lord Byron (George Gordon Noel Byron),
Thou who hast
The fatal gist of beauty.
Thou who hast
The fatal gist of beauty.
Maidens, like moths, are ever caught, by glare,
And Mammon wins his way where seraphs might despair.
Maidens, like moths, are ever caught, by glare,
And Mammon wins his way where seraphs might despair.
Besides, they always smell of bread and butter.
Besides, they always smell of bread and butter.
Farce follow'd Comedy, and reach'd her prime.
In ever-laughing Foote's fantastic time;
Mad wag! who pardon'd none, read more
Farce follow'd Comedy, and reach'd her prime.
In ever-laughing Foote's fantastic time;
Mad wag! who pardon'd none, nor spared the best,
And turn'd some very serious things to jest.
Nor church nor state escaped his public sneers,
Arms nor the gown, priests, lawyers, volunteers;
"Alas, poor Yorick!" now forever mute!
Whoever loves a laugh must sigh for Foote.
We smile, perforce, when histrionic scenes
Ape the swoln dialogue of kings and queens,
When "Chrononhotonthelogos must die,"
And Arthur struts in mimic majesty.
In solitude, when we are least alone.
In solitude, when we are least alone.
One must be a god to be able to tell successes from failures
without making a mistake.
One must be a god to be able to tell successes from failures
without making a mistake.
How beauteous are rouleaus! how charming chests
Containing ingots, bags of dollars, coins
(Not of old victors, read more
How beauteous are rouleaus! how charming chests
Containing ingots, bags of dollars, coins
(Not of old victors, all whose heads and crests
Weigh not the thin ore where their visage shines,
But) of find unclipt gold, where dully rests
Some likeness, which the glittering cirque confines,
Of modern, reigning, sterling, stupid stamp;--
Yes! ready money is Aladdin's lamp.
A thousand hearts beat happily; and when
Music arose with its voluptuous swell,
Soft eyes look'd love read more
A thousand hearts beat happily; and when
Music arose with its voluptuous swell,
Soft eyes look'd love to eyes which spake again,
And all went merry as a marriage bell.
