Byron's free-spirited lifestyle combined with his rare poetic gift to make him one of the foremost figures of the Romantic Era. This collection of his poems, richly varied in mood and content, captures the essence of his great achievement. Among the thirty-one poems included are convivial song-like poems, love poems, travel poems, humorous and satiric poems.
Shorter works such as the famous "She Walks in Beauty," "Stanzas to Augusta" and "So We'll Go No More a Roving" are well represented. Also here are important longer works — "The Prisoner of Chillon," "Beppo," "The Vision of Judgment," all unabridged — and lyrics excerpted from Don Juan, Childe Harold's Pilgrimage, and the play Manfred. Taken together, these are poems that draw readers quickly into the passions, humors, and convictions of a poet whose life and work truly embodied the Romantic spirit.

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- English
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Selected Poems
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The Vision of Judgment15
I
Saint Peter sat by the celestial gate:
His keys were rusty and the lock was dull,
So little trouble had been given of late;
Not that the place by any means was full,
But since the Gallic era âeighty-eightâ
The devils had taâen a longer, stronger pull,
And âa pull all together,â as they say
At seaâwhich drew most souls another way.
II
The angels all were singing out of tune,
And hoarse with having little else to do,
Excepting to wind up the sun and moon,
Or curb a runaway young star or two,
Or wild colt of a comet, which too soon
Broke out of bounds oâer the ethereal blue,
Splitting some planet with its playful tail,
As boats are sometimes by a wanton whale.
III
The guardian seraphs had retired on high,
Finding their charges past all care below;
Terrestrial business fillâd nought in the sky
Save the recording angelâs black bureau;
Who found, indeed, the facts to multiply
With such rapidity of vice and wo,
That he had strippâd off both his wings in quills,
And yet was in arrear of human ills.
IV
His business so augmented of late years,
That he was forced, against his will no doubt
(Just like those cherubs, earthly ministers),
For some resource to turn himself about,
And claim the help of his celestial peers,
To aid him ere he should be quite worn out
By the increased demand for his remarks;
Six angels and twelve saints were named his clerks.
V
This was a handsome boardâat least for heaven;
And yet they had even then enough to do,
So many conquerorsâ cars were daily driven,
So many kingdoms fitted up anew;
Each day too slew its thousands six or seven,
Till at the crowning carnage, Waterloo,
They threw their pens down in divine disgustâ
The page was so besmearâd with blood and dust.
VI
This by the way; ât is not mine to record
What angels shrink from: even the very devil
On this occasion his own work abhorrâd,
So surfeited with the infernal revel:
Though he himself had sharpenâd every sword,
It almost quenchâd his innate thirst of evil.
(Here Satanâs sole good work deserves insertionâ
âT is, that he has both generals in reversion.)
VII
Letâs skip a few short years of hollow peace,
Which peopled earth no better, hell as wont,
And heaven noneâthey form the tyrantâs lease,
With nothing but new names subscribed upon ât:
âT will one day finish: meantime they increase,
âWith seven heads and ten horns,â and all in front,
Like Saint Johnâs foretold beast; but ours are born
Less formidable in the head than horn.
VIII
In the first year of freedomâs second dawn
Died George the Third; although no tyrant, one
Who shielded tyrants, till each sense withdrawn
Left him nor mental nor external sun:
A better farmer neâer brushâd dew from lawn,
A worse king never left a realm undone!
He diedâbut left his subjects still behind,
One half as mad, and tâ other no less blind.
IX
He died!âhis death made no great stir on earth;
His burial made some pomp; there was profusion
Of velvet, gilding, brass, and no great dearth
Of aught but tearsâsave those shed by collusion;
For these things may be bought at their true worth;
Of elegy there was the due infusionâ
Bought also; and the torches, cloaks, and banners,
Heralds, and relics of old Gothic manners,
X
Formâd a sepulchral melodrame. Of all
The fools who flockâd to swell or see the show,
Who cared about the corpse? The funeral
Made the attraction, and the black the wo.
There throbbâd not there a thought which pierced the pall;
And when the gorgeous coffin was laid low,
It seemâd the mockery of hell to fold
The rottenness of eighty years in gold.
XI
So mix his body with the dust! It might
Return to what it must far sooner, were
The natural compound left alone to fight
Its way back into earth, and fire, and air;
But the unnatural balsams merely blight
What nature made him at his birth, as bare
As the mere millionâs base unmummied clayâ
Yet all his spices but prolong decay.
XII
Heâs deadâand upper earth with him has done;
Heâs buried; save the undertakerâs bill
Or lapidary scrawl, the world is gone
For him, unless he left a German will;
But whereâs the proctor who will ask his son?
In whom his qualities are reigning still,
Except that household virtue, most uncommon,
Of constancy ...
Table of contents
- Title Page
- Copyright Page
- Note
- Table of Contents
- DamĂŚtas
- âI Would I Were a Careless Childâ
- âWhen We Two Partedâ
- Stanzas to a Lady on Leaving England
- To Florence
- The Girl of Cadiz
- âAdieu, Adieu! My Native Shoreâ
- Written after Swimming from Sestos to Abydos
- âMaid of Athens, Ere We Partâ
- âShe Walks in Beautyâ
- âOh! Snatchâd Away in Beautyâs Bloomâ
- The Destruction of Sennacherib
- Stanzas for Music
- Stanzas for Music
- Stanzas for Music
- Fare Thee Well
- The Prisoner of Chillon
- Darkness
- Stanzas to Augusta
- âWhen the Moon Is on the Waveâ
- âSo We âll Go No More a Rovingâ
- âMy Boat Is on the Shoreâ
- âDear Doctor, I Have Read Your Playâ
- Beppo
- âThe Isles of Greeceâ
- âWhen a Man Hath No Freedom to Fight for at Homeâ
- âWho Killâd John Keats?â
- Stanzas Written on the Road between Florence and Pisa
- The Vision of Judgment
- On This Day I Complete My Thirty-sixth Year
- Alphabetical List of Titles
- Alphabetical List of First Lines
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