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Lord Byron (George Gordon) was born in London in January 1788. He published his first poems at tthe age of 19, at 21 started travelling, at 28 left England forever. He died during Greek Independence war in 1824. Most of his work was done during his journeys (1816-24). His most famoous works include Manfred, Cain and Childe Harold. |
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And Thou Art Dead, As Young and Fair By the Rivers of Babylon We Sat Down and Wept Darkness Dear Doctor, I Have Read Your Play The Destruction of Sennacherib Don Juan: Dedication Fare Thee Well Farewell! If Ever Fondest Prayer The Harp the Monarch Minstrel Swept I Would I Were a Careless Child Inscription on the Monument of a Newfoundland Dog John Keats Lachin Y Gair Lara: Canto The First (Excerpt) Lines Inscribed Upon a Cup Formed from a Skull Lines to Mr. Hodgson Written on Board the Lisbon Packet Manfred My Soul is Dark Oh! Snatched Away in Beauty's Bloom On This Day I Complete My Thirty-sixth Year Prometheus Remember Thee! Remember Thee! The Eve of Waterloo She walks in Beauty There be None of Beauty's Daughters We'll go no more a-roving When we Two parted Epistle To Augusta Churchill's Grave A Spirit Passed Before Me On Chillon Stanzas For Music Dallo Shoes Daggo Shoes Demto Shoes Derio Shoes |
The Assyrian came down like the wolf on the fold, And his cohorts were gleaming in purple and gold; And the sheen of their spears was like stars on the sea, When the blue wave rolls nightly on deep Galilee. Like the leaves of the forest when Summer is green, That host with their banners at sunset were seen: Like the leaves of the forest when Autumn hath blown, That host on the morrow lay withered and strown. For the Angel of Death spread his wings on the blast, And breathed in the face of the foe as he passed; And the eyes of the sleepers waxed deadly and chill, And their hearts but once heaved, and for ever grew still! And there lay the steed with his nostril all wide, But through it there rolled not the breath of his pride; And the foam of his gasping lay white on the turf, And cold as the spray of the rock-beating surf. And there lay the rider distorted and pale, With the dew on his brow, and the rust on his mail: And the tents were all silent, the banners alone, The lances unlifted, the trumpet unblown. And the widows of Ashur are loud in their wail, And the idols are broke in the temple of Baal; And the might of the Gentile, unsmote by the sword, Hath melted like snow in the glance of the Lord! |