Lord Byron

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Image:Lord Byron in Albanian dress.jpg
Lord Byron, painted by Thomas Phillips in 1813.

George Gordon (Noel) Byron, 6th Baron Byron (January 22, 1788–April 19, 1824), better known as Lord Byron, was an Anglo-Scottish poet and leading figure in Romanticism.

Contents

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Quotes

  • My great comfort is, that the temporary celebrity I have wrung from the world has been in the very teeth of all opinions and prejudices. I have flattered no ruling powers; I have never concealed a single thought that tempted me.
  • I awoke one morning and found myself famous.
    • a reference to the instantaneous success of Childe Harold and quoted in Letters and Journals of Lord Byron by Thomas Moore, 1830.
  • Send me no more reviews of any kind. --- I will read no more of evil or good in that line. --- Walter Scott has not read a review of himself for thirteen years.
    • in a letter to his publisher, John Murray dated 3 November 1821.
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Sourced

  • I only know we loved in vain;
    I only feel—farewell! farewell!
    • Farewell! If Ever Fondest Prayer, st. 2 (1808)
  • When we two parted
    In silence and tears,
    Half brokenhearted,
    To sever for years.
  • 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.
    • When We Two Parted, st. 4 (1808)
  • Near this spot are deposited the remains of one who possessed beauty without vanity, strength without insolence, courage without ferocity, and all the virtues of Man, without his vices. This praise, which would be unmeaning flattery if inscribed over human ashes, is but a just tribute to the memory of Boatswain, a dog.
  • The poor dog, in life the firmest friend,
    The first to welcome, foremost to defend.
    • Inscription on the monument of a Newfoundland dog (1808)
  • Maid of Athens, ere we part,
    Give, oh give me back my heart!
  • I awoke one morning and found myself famous.
    • Entry in Memoranda after publication of first two cantos of Childe Harold's Pilgrimage. From Thomas Moore's Life of Byron, ch. 14
  • And lovelier things have mercy shown
    To every failing but their own,
    And every woe a tear can claim
    Except an erring sister's shame.
  • I die—but first I have possessed,
    And come what may, I have been blessed.
    • The Giaour, l. 1114 (1813)
  • Know ye the land where the cypress and myrtle
    Are emblems of deeds that are done in their clime?
    Where the rage of the vulture, the love of the turtle,
    Now melt into sorrow, now madden to crime!
  • Where the virgins are soft as the roses they twine,
    And all, save the spirit of man, is divine?
    • The Bride of Abydos, Canto I, st. 1 (1813)
  • Mark! where his carnage and his conquests cease!
    He makes a solitude, and calls it—peace!
    • The Bride of Abydos, Canto II, st. 20 (1813)
  • The fatal facility of the octosyllabic verse.
  • Such hath it been — shall be — beneath the sun
    The many still must labour for the one!
    • The Corsair, Canto I, st. 8
  • He left a corsair's name to other times,
    Linked with one virtue, and a thousand crimes.
    • The Corsair, Canto III, st. 24
  • The Cincinnatus of the West,
    Whom envy dared not hate,
    Bequeath'd the name of Washington,
    To make man blush there was but one!
  • When age chills the blood, when our pleasures are past—
    For years fleet away with the wings of the dove—
    The dearest remembrance will still be the last,
    Our sweetest memorial the first kiss of love.
  • And thou wert lovely to the last,
    Extinguish'd, not decay'd;
    As stars that shoot along the sky
    Shine brightest as they fall from high.
    • And Thou Art Dead as Young and Fair
  • Fare thee well! and if forever,
    Still forever, fare thee well:
    Even though unforgiving, never
    'Gainst thee shall my heart rebel.
  • Sighing that Nature formed but one such man,
    And broke the die, in molding Sheridan.
    • Monody on the Death of Sheridan, l. 117 (1816)
  • My hair is grey, but not with years,
    Nor grew it white
    In a single night,
    As men's have grown from sudden fears.
  • Oh, God! it is a fearful thing
    To see the human soul take wing
    In any shape, in any mood.
    • The Prisoner of Chillon, st. 8
  • A light broke in upon my brain, —
    It was the carol of a bird;
    It ceased, and then it came again,
    The sweetest song ear ever heard.
    • The Prisoner of Chillon, st. 10
  • There be none of Beauty's daughters
    With a magic like thee;
    And like music on the waters
    Is thy sweet voice to me.
  • I had a dream, which was not all a dream.
  • Though the day of my Destiny's over,
    And the star of my Fate hath declined,
    Thy soft heart refused to discover
    The faults which so many could find.
  • And a firm will, and a deep sense,
    Which even in torture can descry
    Its own concenter'd recompense,
    Triumphant where it dares defy
  • As the liberty lads o'er the sea
    Bought their freedom, and cheaply, with blood,
    So we, boys, we
    Shall die fighting or live free,
    And down with all kings but King Ludd!
  • My boat is on the shore,
    And my bark is on the sea;
    But, before I go, Tom Moore.
    Here's a double health to thee!
  • Here's a sigh to those who love me,
    And a smile to those who hate:
    And, whatever sky's above me,
    Here's a heart for every fate.
    • To Thomas Moore, st. 2
  • Mont Blanc is the Monarch of mountains;
    They crowned him long ago,
    On a throne of rocks – in a robe of clouds –
    With a Diadem of Snow.
  • Think'st thou existence doth depend on time?
    It doth; but actions are our epochs: mine
    Have made my days and nights imperishable
    Endless, and all alike, as sands on the shore
    Innumerable atoms; and one desert
    Barren and cold, on which the wild waves break,
    But nothing rests, save carcases and wrecks,
    Rocks, and the salt-surf weeds of bitterness.
    • Manfred, Act II, sc. i
  • His heart was one of those which most enamour us,
    Wax to receive, and marble to retain:
    He was a lover of the good old school,
    Who still become more constant as they cool.
  • I love the language, that soft bastard Latin,
    Which melts like kisses from a female mouth,
    And sounds as if it should be writ on satin,
    With syllables which breathe of the sweet South,
    And gentle liquids gliding all so pat in,
    That not a single accent seems uncouth,
    Like our harsh northern whistling, grunting guttural,
    Which we're obliged to hiss, and spit, and sputter all.
    • Beppo, st. 44
  • "Bring forth the horse!" - the horse was brought;
    In truth, he was a noble steed,
    A Tartar of the Ukraine breed,
    Who look'd as though the speed of thought
    Were in his limbs.
  • All farewells should be sudden.
    • Sardanapalus, Act V (1821)
  • The best of prophets of the future is the past.
    • Journal (January 28, 1821)
  • The world is a bundle of hay,
    Mankind are the asses that pull,
    Each tugs in a different way—
    And the greatest of all is John Bull!
    • Letter to Thomas Moore (June 22, 1821)
  • Because
    He is all-powerful, must all-good, too, follow?
    I judge but by the fruits—and they are bitter—
    Which I must feed on for a fault not mine.
    • Cain, Act I, sc. i (1821)
  • Who killed John Keats?
    "I," says the Quarterly,
    So savage and Tartarly;
    "'Twas one of my feats."
    • John Keats (c. 1821)
  • He seems
    To have seen better days, as who has not
    Who has seen yesterday?
    • Werner, Act I, sc. i (1822)
  • Sublime tobacco! which from east to west
    Cheers the tar's labor or the Turkman's rest.
    • The Island, Canto II, st. 19 (1823)
  • What's drinking?
    A mere pause from thinking!
    • The Deformed Transformed, Act III, sc. i (1824)
  • Seek out — less often sought than found —
    A Soldier's Grave, for thee the best;
    Then look around and choose thy Ground,
    And take thy Rest.
    • On This Day I Complete My Thirty-Sixth Year, st. 10
  • Is [sex] not life? Is it not the thing?
    • Marianne Hunter (ed.), Sex: A Book of Quotations, Barnes & Noble Books, 2003. ISBN 0-7607-4072-0
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English Bards and Scotch Reviewers (1809)

  • I'll publish right or wrong:
    Fools are my theme, let satire be my song.
    • Line 5
  • 'Tis pleasure, sure, to see one's name in print;
    A book's a book, although there's nothing in 't.
    • Line 51
  • A man must serve his time to every trade
    Save censure—critics are ready-made.
    • Line 63
  • With just enough of learning to misquote.
    • Line 66
  • As soon
    Seek roses in December, ice in June;
    Hope constancy in wind, or corn in chaff;
    Believe a woman or an epitaph,
    Or any other thing that's false, before
    You trust in critics, who themselves are sore.
    • Line 75
  • Better to err with Pope, than shine with Pye.
    • Line 102
  • 'Twas thine own genius gave the final blow,
    And help'd to plant the wound that laid thee low:
    So the struck eagle, stretch'd upon the plain,
    No more through rolling clouds to soar again,
    View'd his own feather on the fatal dart,
    And wing'd the shaft that quiver'd in his heart.
    • Line 826
  • Though Nature's sternest painter, yet the best.
    • Line 839
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Childe Harold's Pilgrimage (1812-1818)

  • Vexed with mirth the drowsy ear of night.
    • Canto I, st. 2 (1812)
  • Had sighed to many, though he loved but one.
    • Canto I, st. 5
  • Maidens, like moths, are ever caught by glare,
    And Mammon wins his way where seraphs might despair.
    • Canto I, st. 9
  • Might shake the saintship of an anchorite.
    • Canto I, st. 11
  • My native land, good night!
    • Canto I, st. 13 (song)
  • Full from the fount of Joy's delicious springs
    Some bitter o'er the flowers its bubbling venom flings.
    • Canto I, st. 82
  • War, war is still the cry, "War even to the knife!"
    • Canto I, st. 86
  • Gone—glimmering through the dream of things that were.
    • Canto II, st. 2 (1812)
  • A schoolboy's tale, the wonder of an hour!
    • Canto II, st. 2
  • The dome of thought, the palace of the soul.
    • Canto II, st. 6
  • Ah, happy years! once more who would not be a boy?
    • Canto II, st. 23
  • Fair Greece! sad relic of departed worth!
    Immortal, though no more; though fallen, great!
    • Canto II, st. 73
  • Who would free themselves must strike the blow.
    • Canto II, st. 76
  • A thousand years scarce serve to form a state:
    An hour may lay it in the dust.
    • Canto II, st. 84
  • Where'er we tread 'tis haunted, holy ground.
    • Canto II, st. 88
  • What is the worst of woes that wait on age?
    What stamps the wrinkle deeper on the brow?
    To view each loved one blotted from life's page,
    And be alone on earth, as I am now.
    • Canto II, st. 98
  • Ada! sole daughter of my house and heart.
    • Canto III, st. 1 (1816)
  • Once more upon the waters, yet once more!
    And the waves bound beneath me as a steed
    That knows his rider!
    • Canto III, st. 2
  • Years steal
    Fire from the mind as vigor from the limb;
    And life's enchanted cup but sparkles near the brim.
    • Canto III, st. 8
  • And Harold stands upon this place of skulls.
    • Canto III, st. 18
  • There was a sound of revelry by night,
    And Belgium's capital had gathered then
    Her beauty and her chivalry, and bright
    The lamps shone o'er fair women and brave men.
    A thousand hearts beat happily; and when
    Music arose with its voluptuous swell,
    Soft eyes looked loved to eyes which spake again,
    And all went merry as a marriage bell.
    But hush! hark! a deep sound strikes like a rising knell!

Canto III, st. 21

  • Did ye not hear it?—No! 'twas but the wind,
    Or the car rattling o'er the stony street.
    On with the dance! let joy be unconfined;
    No sleep till morn, when Youth and Pleasure meet
    To chase the glowing hours with flying feet.
    • Canto III, st. 22
  • Like to the apples on the Dead Sea's shore,
    All ashes to the taste.
    • Canto III, st. 34
  • Thou fatal Waterloo.
    Millions of tongues record thee, and anew
    Their children's lips shall echo them, and say—
    "Here, where the sword united nations drew,
    Our countrymen were warring on that day!"
    And this is much, and all which will not pass away.
    • Canto III, st. 35
  • He who ascends to moutaintops, shall find
    The loftiest peaks most wrapt in clouds and snow;
    He who surpasses or subdues mankind
    Must look down on the hate of those below.
    • Canto III, st. 45
  • All tenantless, save to the crannying wind.
    • Canto III, st. 47
  • History's purchased page to call them great.
    • Canto III, st. 48
  • The castled crag of Drachenfels
    Frowns o'er the wide and winding Rhine.
    • Canto III, st. 55
  • To fly from, need not be to hate, mankind.
    • Canto III, st. 69
  • I live not in myself, but I become
    Portion of that around me: and to me
    High mountains are a feeling, but the hum
    Of human cities torture.
    • Canto III, st. 72
  • Sapping a solemn creed with solemn sneer.
    • Canto III, st. 107
  • Fame is the thirst of youth.
    • Canto III, st. 112
  • 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.
    • Canto III, st. 113
  • I stood
    Among them, but not of them; in a shroud
    Of thoughts which were not their thoughts.
    • Canto III, st. 113
  • I stood in Venice on the Bridge of Sighs,
    A palace and a prison on each hand.
    • Canto IV, st. 1 (1818)
  • Where Venice sate in state, throned on her hundred isles.
    • Canto IV, st. 1
  • She looks a sea Cybele, fresh from ocean,
    Rising with her tiara of proud towers
    At airy distance, with majestic motion,
    A ruler of the waters and their powers.
    • Canto IV, st. 2
  • 'Tis solitude should teach us how to die;
    It hath no flatterers; vanity can give
    No hollow aid; alone—man with his God must strive.
    • Canto IV, st. 33
  • Italia! O Italia! thou who hast
    The fatal gift of beauty.
    • Canto IV, st. 42
  • Then farewell, Horace; whom I hated so,
    Not for thy faults, but mine.
    • Canto IV, st. 77
  • Yet, Freedom! yet thy banner, torn, but flying,
    Streams like the thunder-storm against the wind.
    • Canto IV, st. 98
  • Alas! our young affections run to waste,
    Or water but the desert.
    • Canto IV, st. 120
  • Of its own beauty is the mind diseased.
    • Canto IV, st. 122
  • Time, the avenger! unto thee I lift
    My hands, and eyes, and heart, and crave of thee a gift.
    • Canto IV, st. 130
  • "While stands the Coliseum, Rome shall stand;
    When falls the Coliseum, Rome shall fall;
    And when Rome falls — the World."
    • Canto IV, st. 145
  • There is a pleasure in the pathless woods,
    There is a rapture on the lonely shore,
    There is society, where none intrudes,
    By the deep Sea, and music in its roar;
    I love not Man the less, but Nature more.
    • Canto IV, st. 178
  • Roll on, thou deep and dark blue Ocean — roll!
    Ten thousand fleets sweep over thee in vain;
    Man marks the earth with ruin — his control
    Stops with the shore.
    • Canto IV, st. 179
  • He sinks into thy depths with bubbling groan,
    Without a grave, unknell'd, uncoffin'd, and unknown.
    • Canto IV, st. 179
  • Time writes no wrinkle on thine azure brow:
    Such as creation's dawn beheld, thou rollest now.
    • Canto IV, st. 182
  • Thou glorious mirror, where the Almighty's form
    Glasses itself in tempests.
    • Canto IV, st. 183
  • And I have loved thee, Ocean! and my joy
    Of youthful sports was on thy breast to be
    Borne, like thy bubbles, onward: from a boy
    I wanton'd with thy breakers.
    • Canto IV, st. 184
  • And trusted to thy billows far and near,
    And laid my hand upon thy mane -- as I do here.
    • Canto IV, st. 184
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Hebrew Melodies (1815)

  • 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 mellow'd to that tender light
    Which heaven to gaudy day denies.
  • 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.
  • For the Angel of Death spread his wings on the blast.
    • The Destruction of Sennacherib, st. 3
  • And the might of the Gentile, unsmote by the sword,
    Hath melted like snow in the glance of the Lord!
    • The Destruction of Sennacherib, st. 6
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So, We'll Go No More A-Roving (1817)

  • So, we'll go no more a roving
    So late into the night,
    Though the heart be still as loving,
    And the moon be still as bright.
    • St. 1
  • For the sword outwears its sheath,
    And the soul wears out the breast,
    And the heart must pause to breathe,
    And love itself have rest.
    • St. 2
  • Though the night was made for loving,
    And the day returns too soon,
    Yet we'll go no more a roving
    By the light of the moon.
    • St. 3
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Don Juan (1818-1824)

  • I wish he [Coleridge] would explain his explanation.
    • Dedication, st. 2
  • In vitues nothing erthly could surpass her,
    Save thine "incomparable oil," Macassar!
    • Canto I, st. 17 (1818)
  • But- Oh! ye lords of ladies intellectual,
    Inform us truly, have they not hen-peck'd you all?
    • Canto I, st. 22
  • She, in sooth,
    Possess'd an air and grace by no means common:
    Her stature tall- I hate a dumpy woman.
    • Canto I, st. 61
  • What men call gallantry, and gods adultery,
    Is much more common where the climate 's sultry.
    • Canto I, st. 63
  • Christians have burnt each other, quite persuaded
    That all the Apostles would have done as they did.
    • Canto I, st. 83
  • A little still she strove, and much repented
    And whispering 'I will ne'er consent'- consented.
    • Canto I, st. 117
  • 'Tis sweet to hear the watch-dog's honest bark
    Bay deep-mouth'd welcome as we draw near home;
    'Tis sweet to know there is an eye will mark
    Our coming, and look brighter when we come.
    • Canto I, st. 123
  • Sweet is revenge—especially to women.
    • Canto I, st. 124
  • Pleasure's a sin, and sometimes sin's a pleasure.
    • Canto I, st. 133
  • 'Man's love is of man's life a thing apart,
    'Tis woman's whole existence.
    • Canto I, st. 194
  • There 's nought, no doubt, so much the spirit calms
    As rum and true religion.
    • Canto II, st. 34 (1819)
  • A solitary shriek, the bubbling cry
    Of some strong swimmer in his agony.
    • Canto II, st. 53
  • If this be true, indeed,
    Some Christians have a comfortable creed.
    • Canto II, st. 86
  • Let us have wine and women, mirth and laughter,
    Sermons and soda water the day after.
    • Canto II, st. 178
  • In her first passion woman loves her lover,
    In all the others, all she loves is love.
    • Canto III, st. 3 (1821)
  • Think you, if Laura had been Petrarch's wife,
    He would have written sonnets all his life?
    • Canto III, st. 7
  • He was the mildest-mannered man
    That ever scuttled ship or cut a throat.
    • Canto III, st. 41
  • Even good men like to make the public stare.
    • Canto III, st. 81
  • The isles of Greece, the Isles of Greece!
    Where burning Sappho loved and sung,
    Where grew the arts of war and peace,
    Where Delos rose, and Phoebus sprung!
    Eternal summer gilds them yet,
    But all, except their sun, is set.
    • Canto III, The Isles of Greece, st. 1
  • The mountains look on Marathon-
    And Marathon looks on the sea;
    And musing there an hour alone,
    I dream'd that Greece might still be free
    • Canto III, The Isles of Greece, st. 3
  • And where are they? and where art thou,
    My country? On thy voiceless shore
    The heroic lay is tuneless now-
    The heroic bosom beats no more!
    And must thy lyre, so long divine,
    Degenerate into hands like mine?
    • Canto III, The Isles of Greece, st. 5
  • Earth! render back from out thy breast
    A remnant of our Spartan dead!
    Of the three hundred grant but three,
    To make a new Thermopylae!
    • Canto III, The Isles of Greece, st. 7
  • You have the Pyrrhic dance as yet,
    Where is the Pyrrhic phalanx gone?
    Of two such lessons, why forget
    The nobler and the manlier one?
    You have the letters Cadmus gave-
    Think ye he meant them for a slave?
    • Canto III, The Isles of Greece, st. 10
  • Place me on Sunium's marbled steep,
    Where nothing, save the waves and I,
    May hear our mutual murmurs sweep;
    There, swan-like, let me sing and die:
    A land of slaves shall ne'er be mine-
    Dash down yon cup of Samian wine!
    • Canto III, The Isles of Greece, st. 16
  • And if I laugh at any mortal thing,
    'Tis that I may not weep.
    • Canto IV, st. 4 (1821)
  • These two hated with a hate
    Found only on the stage.
    • Canto IV, st. 93
  • I've stood upon Achilles' tomb,
    And heard Troy doubted; time will doubt of Rome.
    • Canto IV, st. 101
  • Oh! "darkly, deeply, beautifully blue,"
    As someone somewhere sings about the sky.
    • Canto IV, st. 110
  • There's not a sea the passenger e'er pukes in,
    Turns up more dangerous breakers than the Euxine.
    • Canto V, st. 5 (1821)
  • No Method's more sure at moments to take hold
    Of the best feelings of mankind, which grow
    More tender, as we every day behold,
    Than that all-softening, overpowering knell,
    The tocsin of the soul- the dinner-bell.
    • Canto V, st. 49
  • There was no end unto the things she bought,
    Nor to the trouble which her fancies caused;
    Yet even her tyranny had such a grace,
    The women pardon'd all except her face.
    • Canto V, st. 113
  • Polygamy may well be held in dread,
    Not only as a sin, but as a bore:
    Most wise men, with one moderate woman wed,
    Will scarcely find philosophy for more.
    • Canto VI, st. 12 (1823)
  • A lady of "a certain age," which means
    Certainly aged.
    • Canto VI, st. 69
  • Not so Leonidas and Washington,
    Whose every battle-field is holy ground,
    Which breathes of nations saved, not worlds undone.
    • Canto VIII, st. 5 (1823)
  • At least he pays no rent, and has best right
    To be the first of what we used to call
    'Gentlemen farmer'- a race worn out quite,
    Since lately there have been no rents at all,
    And 'gentlemen' are in a piteous plight,
    And 'farmers' can't raise Ceres from her fall.
    • Canto IX, st. 32 (1823)
  • When Bishop Berkeley said 'there was no matter,'
    And proved it- 'twas no matter what he said.
    • Canto XI, st. 1 (1823)
  • And, after all, what is a lie? 'Tis but
    The truth in masquerade.
    • Canto XI, st. 37
  • 'Tis strange the mind, that very fiery particle,
    Should let itself be snuff'd out by an article.
  • Ready money is Aladdin's lamp.
    • Canto XII, st. 12 (1823)
  • Cervantes smiled Spain's chivalry away.
    • Canto XIII, st. st. 11 (1823)
  • The English winter- ending in July,
    To recommence in August.
    • Canto XIII, st. 42
  • Society is now one polish'd horde,
    Form'd of two mighty tribes, the Bores and Bored.
    • Canto XIII, st. 95
  • All human history attests
    That happiness for man- the hungry sinner!-
    Since Eve ate apples, much depends on dinner.
    • Canto XIII, st. 99
  • Of all the horrid, hideous notes of woe,
    Sadder than owl-songs or the midnight blast,
    Is that portentous phrase, I told you so.
    • Canto XIV, st. 50 (1823)
  • 'Tis strange,- but true; for truth is always strange;
    Stranger than fiction.
    • Canto XIV, st. 101
  • The Devil hath not, in all his quiver's choice,
    An arrow for the heart like a sweet voice.
    • Canto XV, st. 13 (1824)
  • The antique Persians taught three useful things—
    To draw the bow, to ride, and speak the truth.
    • Canto XVI, st. 1 (1824)
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The Age of Bronze (1823)

  • The "good old times" — all times when old are good —
    Are gone.
    • St. 1
  • Where is he, the champion and the child
    Of all that's great or little, wise or wild;
    Whose game was empires, and whose stakes were thrones;
    Whose table earth — whose dice were human bones?
    • St. 3
  • While Franklin's quiet memory climbs to heaven,
    Calming the lightning which he thence hath riven,
    Or drawing from the no less kindled earth
    Freedom and peace to that which boasts his birth;
    While Washington's a watchword, such as ne'er
    Shall sink while there's an echo left to air.
    • St. 5
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About Lord Byron

  • Mad, bad and dangerous to know.
    • Lady Caroline Lamb, written in her journal upon their first meeting at a ball in March of 1812.


  • If I could envy any man for successful ill nature I should envy Lord Byron for his skill in satirical nomenclature.


  • I never heard a single expression of fondness for him fall from the lips of any of those who knew him well.


  • Lord Byron makes man after his own image, woman after his own heart; the one is a capricious tyrant, the other a yielding slave.



  • You speak of Lord Byron and me --- there is this great difference between us. He describes what he sees --- I describe what I imagine. Mine is the hardest task.
    • John Keats, in a letter dated 17-27 September 1819.


  • The world is rid of Lord Byron, but the deadly slime of his touch still remains.


  • If they had said that the sun or the moon had gone out of the heavens, it could not have struck me with the idea of a more awful and dreary blank in creation than the words: 'Byron is dead!'


  • Whatever he does, he must do in a more decided and daring manner than any one else; he lounges with extravagance, and yawns so as to alarm the reader!


  • Our Lord Byron --- the fascinating --- faulty --- childish --- philosophical being --- daring the world --- docile to a private circle --- impetuous and indolent --- gloomy and yet more gay than any other.


  • It still saddens me that Lord Byron, who showed such impatience with the fickle public, wasn't aware of how well the Germans can understand him and how highly they esteem him. With us the moral and political tittle-tattle of the day falls away, leaving the man and the talent standing alone in all their brilliance.


  • From the poerty of Lord Byron they drew a system of ethics, compounded of misanthropy and voluptuousness, a system in which the two great commandments were, to hate your neighbour, and to love your neighbour's wife.


  • What helps it now, that Byron bore,
    With haughty scorn which mocked the smart,
    Through Europe to the Aetolian shore
    The pageant of his bleeding heart?
    That thousands counted every groan,
    And Europe made his woe her own?


  • In a room at the end of the garden to this house was a magnificent rocking-horse, which a friend had given my little boy; and Lord Byron, with a childish glee becoming a poet, would ride upon it. Ah! why did he ever ride his Pegasus to less advantage?


  • Always looking at himself in mirrors to make sure he was sufficiently outrageous.
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External links

Wikisource has original works written by or about Lord Byron.


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