Lord Byron
Lord Byron
George Gordon Byron, 6th Baron Byron, FRS, commonly known simply as Lord Byron, was an English poet and a leading figure in the Romantic movement. Among his best-known works are the lengthy narrative poems Don Juan and Childe Harold's Pilgrimage, and the short lyric "She Walks in Beauty"...
NationalityBritish
ProfessionPoet
Date of Birth22 January 1788
fixed improved less preparing seal species spiritual tenderness though wax
We have progressively improved into a less spiritual species of tenderness -- but the seal is not yet fixed though the wax is preparing for the impression.
element hardly passion
Passion is the element in which we live; without it, we hardly vegetate.
fools fools-and-foolishness satire
I'll publish, right or wrong: / Fools are my theme, let satire be my song.
convert five four glad greater process prove sort though
I know that two and two make four -- and should be glad to prove it too if I could -- though I must say if by any sort of process I could convert 2 and 2 into five it would give me much greater pleasure.
holiness lately miracles shall since understand
I like his holiness very much, particularly since an order, which I understand he has lately given, that no more miracles shall be performed.
everybody grand human persuaded soul
It has been said that the immortality of the soul is a ''grand peut-''tre'' --but still it is a grand one. Everybody clings to it --the stupidest, and dullest, and wickedest of human bipeds is still persuaded that he is immortal.
angels learn
By many stories, / And true, we learn the angels are all Tories.
home land plain whose
Clime of the unforgotten brave! / Whose land from plain to mountain-cave / Was Freedom's home or Glory's grave!
heart marble wax
His heart was one of those which most enamour us, / Wax to receive, and marble to retain.
forgives grow hairs rhymes whose
But who forgives the senior's ceaseless verse, / Whose hairs grow hoary as his rhymes grow worse?
bacon hating mistaken save turks wished
But here I say the Turks were much mistaken - Who, hating hogs, yet wished to save their bacon
aloud cheek cried flattered loved nor patient rank worship
I have not loved the world, nor the world me; / I have not flattered its rank breath, nor bowed / To its idolatries a patient knee, / Nor coined my cheek to smiles, nor cried aloud / In worship of an echo.
perfect seemed valet
In short, he was a perfect cavalier, / And to his very valet seemed a hero.
But Tom's no more - and so no more of Tom.