Lord Byron - Delphi Poets Series

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Lord Byron - Delphi Poets Series Page 222

by Lord Byron


  ON THE BUST OF HELEN BY CANOVA

  ON THE DAY OF THE DESTRUCTION OF JERUSALEM BY TITUS.

  ON THE DEATH OF A YOUNG LADY

  ON THE DEATH OF MR. FOX

  ON THE STAR OF “THE LEGION OF HONOUR.”

  ON THIS DAY I COMPLETE MY THIRTY-SIXTH YEAR

  ONE STRUGGLE MORE, AND I AM FREE

  OSCAR OF ALVA

  PARENTHETICAL ADDRESS

  PARISINA

  PROMETHEUS

  QUEM DEUS VULT PERDERE PRIUS DEMENTAT.

  REMEMBER HIM, WHOM PASSION’S POWER

  REMEMBER THEE! REMEMBER THEE!

  REMEMBRANCE

  REMIND ME NOT, REMIND ME NOT

  REPLY TO SOME VERSES OF J.M.B. PIGOT, ESQ., ON THE CRUELTY OF HIS MISTRESS

  SARDANAPALUS

  SAUL.

  SHE WALKS IN BEAUTY.

  SO WE’LL GO NO MORE A-ROVING

  SONG FOR THE LUDDITES

  SONG OF SAUL BEFORE HIS LAST BATTLE.

  SONG TO THE SULIOTES.

  SONNET TO GENEVRA

  SONNET TO GEORGE THE FOURTH, ON THE REPEAL OF LORD EDWARD FITZGERALD’S FORFEITURE

  SONNET TO LAKE LEMAN

  SONNET, TO GENEVRA

  SONNET, TO THE SAME (GENEVRA)

  STANZAS

  STANZAS COMPOSED DURING A THUNDERSTORM

  STANZAS FOR MUSIC: THEY SAY THAT HOPE IS HAPPINESS

  STANZAS TO A HINDOO AIR

  STANZAS TO A LADY, ON LEAVING ENGLAND

  STANZAS TO A LADY, WITH THE POEMS OF CAMOËNS

  STANZAS TO AUGUSTA

  STANZAS TO AUGUSTA II.

  STANZAS TO THE PO

  STANZAS WRITTEN IN PASSING THE AMBRACIAN GULF

  STANZAS WRITTEN ON THE ROAD BETWEEN FLORENCE AND PISA

  STANZAS: WHEN A MAN HATH NO FREEDOM

  SUBSTITUTE FOR AN EPITAPH

  SUN OF THE SLEEPLESS!

  THE ADIEU

  THE AGE OF BRONZE

  THE BLUES

  THE BRIDE OF ABYDOS

  THE CHAIN I GAVE: FROM THE TURKISH

  THE CHARITY BALL

  THE CONQUEST

  THE CORNELIAN

  THE CORSAIR

  THE CURSE OF MINERVA.

  THE DEATH OF CALMAR AND ORLA

  THE DEFORMED TRANSFORMED

  THE DESTRUCTION OF SENNACHERIB.

  THE DEVIL’S DRIVE: AN UNFINISHED RHAPSODY

  THE DREAM

  THE EPISODE OF NISUS AND EURYALUS

  THE FIRST KISS OF LOVE

  THE GIAOUR

  THE HARP THE MONARCH MINSTREL SWEPT.

  THE IRISH AVATAR

  THE ISLAND

  THE LAMENT OF TASSO

  THE MORGANTE MAGGIORE OF PULCI

  THE PRAYER OF NATURE.

  THE PRISONER OF CHILLON

  THE PROPHECY OF DANTE

  THE SIEGE OF CORINTH

  THE SPELL IS BROKE, THE CHARM IS FLOWN!

  THE TEAR

  THE TWO FOSCARI

  THE VISION OF JUDGMENT.

  THE WALTZ

  THE WILD GAZELLE.

  THERE BE NONE OF BEAUTY’S DAUGHTERS

  THERE WAS A TIME, I NEED NOT NAME

  THERE’S NOT A JOY THE WORLD CAN GIVE LIKE THAT IT TAKES AWAY

  THOU ART NOT FALSE, BUT THOU ART FICKLE

  THOUGHTS SUGGESTED BY A COLLEGE EXAMINATION

  THY DAYS ARE DONE.

  TO A BEAUTIFUL QUAKER

  TO A LADY

  TO A LADY

  TO A LADY

  TO A LADY, ON BEING ASKED MY REASONS FOR QUITTING ENGLAND IN THE SPRING

  TO A VAIN LADY

  TO A YOUTHFUL FRIEND

  TO AN OAK AT NEWSTEAD

  TO ANNE

  TO ANNE: OH, SAY NOT, SWEET ANNE

  TO BELSHAZZAR

  TO CAROLINE

  TO CAROLINE

  TO CAROLINE

  TO D—

  TO DIVES.

  TO E—

  TO EDWARD NOEL LONG, ESQ.

  TO ELIZA

  TO EMMA

  TO FLORENCE

  TO GEORGE, EARL DELAWARR

  TO IANTHE.

  TO LESBIA

  TO LORD THURLOW

  TO M —

  TO M. S. G.

  TO M.S.G.

  TO MARION

  TO MARY

  TO MR. MURRAY

  TO MR. MURRAY (FOR OXFORD AND FOR WALDEGRAVE)

  TO MR. MURRAY (STRAHAN, TONSON LINTOT OF THE TIMES)

  TO MY SON

  TO ROMANCE

  TO THE AUTHOR OF A SONNET,

  TO THE COUNTESS OF BLESSINGTON

  TO THE DUKE OF DORSET

  TO THE EARL OF CLARE

  TO THE HONBLE MRS GEORGE LAMB.

  TO THE SIGHING STREPHON

  TO THOMAS MOORE

  TO THOMAS MOORE

  TO THOMAS MOORE (MY BOAT IS ON THE SHORE)

  TO THYRZA

  TO TIME

  TO WOMAN

  TRANSLATION FROM CATULLUS

  TRANSLATION FROM CATULLUS

  TRANSLATION FROM HORACE

  TRANSLATION FROM THE MEDEA OF EURIPIDES

  TRANSLATION OF A ROMAIC LOVE SONG

  TRANSLATION OF A ROMAIC LOVE SONG

  TRANSLATION OF THE EPITAPH ON VIRGIL AND TIBULLUS

  TRANSLATION OF THE FAMOUS GREEK WAR SONG

  TRANSLATION OF THE NURSE’S DOLE IN THE MEDEA OF EURIPIDES

  VERSES FOUND IN A SUMMERHOUSE AT HALES-OWEN

  VERSICLES

  VISION OF BELSHAZZAR.

  WELL! THOU ART HAPPY

  WERE MY BOSOM AS FALSE AS THOU DEEM’ST IT TO BE.

  WERNER

  WHEN COLDNESS WRAPS THIS SUFFERING CLAY.

  WHEN I ROVED A YOUNG HIGHLANDER

  WHEN WE TWO PARTED

  WINDSOR POETICS

  WRITTEN AFTER SWIMMING FROM SESTOS TO ABYDOS

  The Short Story

  Aberdeen Grammar School, attended by Byron in his youth

  The statue of Byron presented at the front of the school

  FRAGMENT OF A NOVEL

  This horror story is also known as The Burial and it is one of the first recorded narratives in English to feature a vampire theme. Byron was inspired when visiting Percy Bysshe Shelley in 1816, after a ‘ghost writing’ contest was proposed, which also led to the creaton of Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein. The fragment first appeared in the 1819 collection Mazeppa: A Poem, published by John Murray in London, without the approval of Byron.

  The story is written in a letter format, with the narrator recounting a journey to the East with an elderly man, Augustus Darvell. During the journey, Darvell becomes physically weaker, when they arrive at a Turkish cemetery near the columns of Diana in Ephesus, leading on to frightening revelations.

  The title page of the first edition printing of the fragment

  Percy Bysshe Shelley, a friend and fellow poet

  FRAGMENT OF A NOVEL

  “June 17, 1816.

  “In the year 17 — , having for some time determined on a journey through countries not hitherto much frequented by travellers, I set out, accompanied by a friend, whom I shall designate by the name of Augustus Darvell. He was a few years my elder, and a man of considerable fortune and ancient family, advantages which an extensive capacity prevented him alike from undervaluing and overrating. Some peculiar circumstances in his private history had rendered him to me an object of attention, of interest, and even of regard, which neither the reserve of his manners, nor occasional indication of an inquietude at times approaching to alienation of mind, could extinguish.

  “I was yet young in life, which I had begun early; but my intimacy with him was of a recent date: we had been educated at the same schools and university; but his progress through these had preceded mine, and he had been deeply initiated into what is called the world, while I was yet in my novitiate. While thus
engaged, I heard much both of his past and present life; and, although in these accounts there were many and irreconcilable contradictions, I could still gather from the whole that he was a being of no common order, and one who, whatever pains he might take to avoid remark, would still be remarkable. I had cultivated his acquaintance subsequently, and endeavoured to obtain his friendship, but this last appeared to be unattainable: whatever affections he might have possessed seemed now, some to have been extinguished, and others to be concentred: that his feelings were acute, I had sufficient opportunities of observing; for, although he could control, he could not altogether disguise them; still he had a power of giving to one passion the appearance of another, in such a manner that it was difficult to define the nature of what was working within him; and the expressions of his features would vary so rapidly, though slightly, that it was useless to trace them to their sources. It was evident that he was a prey to some cureless disquiet; but whether it arose from ambition, love, remorse, grief, from one or all of these, or merely from a morbid temperament akin to disease, I could not discover: there were circumstances alleged which might have justified the application to each of these causes; but, as I have before said, these were so contradictory and contradicted, that none could be fixed upon with accuracy. Where there is mystery, it is generally supposed that there must also be evil: I know not how this may be, but in him there certainly was the one, though I could not ascertain the extent of the other — and felt loth, as far as regarded himself, to believe in its existence. My advances were received with sufficient coldness: but I was young, and not easily discouraged, and at length succeeded in obtaining, to a certain degree, that common-place intercourse and moderate confidence of common and every-day concerns, created and cemented by similarity of pursuit and frequency of meeting, which is called intimacy, or friendship, according to the ideas of him who uses those words to express them.

  “Darvell had already travelled extensively; and to him I had applied for information with regard to the conduct of my intended journey. It was my secret wish that he might be prevailed on to accompany me; it was also a probable hope, founded upon the shadowy restlessness which I observed in him, and to which the animation which he appeared to feel on such subjects, and his apparent indifference to all by which he was more immediately surrounded, gave fresh strength. This wish I first hinted, and then expressed: his answer, though I had partly expected it, gave me all the pleasure of surprise — he consented; and, after the requisite arrangement, we commenced our voyages. After journeying through various countries of the south of Europe, our attention was turned towards the East, according to our original destination; and it was in my progress through these regions that the incident occurred upon which will turn what I may have to relate.

  “The constitution of Darvell, which must from his appearance have been in early life more than usually robust, had been for some time gradually giving away, without the intervention of any apparent disease: he had neither cough nor hectic, yet he became daily more enfeebled; his habits were temperate, and he neither declined nor complained of fatigue; yet he was evidently wasting away: he became more and more silent and sleepless, and at length so seriously altered, that my alarm grew proportionate to what I conceived to be his danger.

  “We had determined, on our arrival at Smyrna, on an excursion to the ruins of Ephesus and Sardis, from which I endeavoured to dissuade him in his present state of indisposition — but in vain: there appeared to be an oppression on his mind, and a solemnity in his manner, which ill corresponded with his eagerness to proceed on what I regarded as a mere party of pleasure little suited to a valetudinarian; but I opposed him no longer — and in a few days we set off together, accompanied only by a serrugee and a single janizary.

  “We had passed halfway towards the remains of Ephesus, leaving behind us the more fertile environs of Smyrna, and were entering upon that wild and tenantless tract through the marshes and defiles which lead to the few huts yet lingering over the broken columns of Diana — the roofless walls of expelled Christianity, and the still more recent but complete desolation of abandoned mosques — when the sudden and rapid illness of my companion obliged us to halt at a Turkish cemetery, the turbaned tombstones of which were the sole indication that human life had ever been a sojourner in this wilderness. The only caravansera we had seen was left some hours behind us, not a vestige of a town or even cottage was within sight or hope, and this ‘city of the dead’ appeared to be the sole refuge of my unfortunate friend, who seemed on the verge of becoming the last of its inhabitants.

  “In this situation, I looked round for a place where he might most conveniently repose: contrary to the usual aspect of Mahometan burial-grounds, the cypresses were in this few in number, and these thinly scattered over its extent; the tombstones were mostly fallen, and worn with age: upon one of the most considerable of these, and beneath one of the most spreading trees, Darvell supported himself, in a half-reclining posture, with great difficulty. He asked for water. I had some doubts of our being able to find any, and prepared to go in search of it with hesitating despondency: but he desired me to remain; and turning to Suleiman, our janizary, who stood by us smoking with great tranquility, he said, ‘Suleiman, verbana su,’ (i.e. ‘bring some water,’) and went on describing the spot where it was to be found with great minuteness, at a small well for camels, a few hundred yards to the right: the janizary obeyed. I said to Darvell, ‘How did you know this?’ He replied, ‘From our situation; you must perceive that this place was once inhabited, and could not have been so without springs: I have also been here before.’

  “‘You have been here before! How came you never to mention this to me? and what could you be doing in a place where no one would remain a moment longer than they could help it?’

  “To this question I received no answer. In the mean time Suleiman returned with the water, leaving the serrugee and the horses at the fountain. The quenching of his thirst had the appearance of reviving him for a moment; and I conceived hopes of his being able to proceed, or at least to return, and I urged the attempt. He was silent — and appeared to be collecting his spirits for an effort to speak. He began —

  “‘This is the end of my journey, and of my life; I came here to die; but I have a request to make, a command — for such my last words must be. — You will observe it?’

  “‘Most certainly; but I have better hopes.’

  “‘I have no hopes, nor wishes, but this — conceal my death from every human being.’

  “‘I hope there will be no occasion; that you will recover, and — ’

  “‘Peace! it must be so: promise this.’

  “‘I do.’

  “‘Swear it, by all that — ’ He here dictated an oath of great solemnity.

  “‘There is no occasion for this. I will observe your request; and to doubt me is — ’

  “‘It cannot be helped, you must swear.’

  “I took the oath, it appeared to relieve him. He removed a seal ring from his finger, on which were some Arabic characters, and presented it to me. He proceeded —

  “‘On the ninth day of the month, at noon precisely (what month you please, but this must be the day), you must fling this ring into the salt springs which run into the Bay of Eleusis; the day after, at the same hour, you must repair to the ruins of the temple of Ceres, and wait one hour.’

  “‘Why?’

  “‘You will see.’

  “‘The ninth day of the month, you say?’

  “‘The ninth.’

  “As I observed that the present was the ninth day of the month, his countenance changed, and he paused. As he sat, evidently becoming more feeble, a stork, with a snake in her beak, perched upon a tombstone near us; and, without devouring her prey, appeared to be steadfastly regarding us. I know not what impelled me to drive it away, but the attempt was useless; she made a few circles in the air, and returned exactly to the same spot. Darvell pointed to it, and smiled — he spoke
— I know not whether to himself or to me — but the words were only, ‘Tis well!’

  “‘What is well? What do you mean?’

  “‘No matter; you must bury me here this evening, and exactly where that bird is now perched. You know the rest of my injunctions.’

  “He then proceeded to give me several directions as to the manner in which his death might be best concealed. After these were finished, he exclaimed, ‘You perceive that bird?’

  “‘Certainly.’

  “‘And the serpent writhing in her beak?’

  “‘Doubtless: there is nothing uncommon in it; it is her natural prey. But it is odd that she does not devour it.’

  “He smiled in a ghastly manner, and said faintly. ‘It is not yet time!’ As he spoke, the stork flew away. My eyes followed it for a moment — it could hardly be longer than ten might be counted. I felt Darvell’s weight, as it were, increase upon my shoulder, and, turning to look upon his face, perceived that he was dead!

  “I was shocked with the sudden certainty which could not be mistaken — his countenance in a few minutes became nearly black. I should have attributed so rapid a change to poison, had I not been aware that he had no opportunity of receiving it unperceived. The day was declining, the body was rapidly altering, and nothing remained but to fulfil his request. With the aid of Suleiman’s ataghan and my own sabre, we scooped a shallow grave upon the spot which Darvell had indicated: the earth easily gave way, having already received some Mahometan tenant. We dug as deeply as the time permitted us, and throwing the dry earth upon all that remained of the singular being so lately departed, we cut a few sods of greener turf from the less withered soil around us, and laid them upon his sepulchre.

  “Between astonishment and grief, I was tearless.”

  The Letters

  Newstead Abbey, the ancestral home of the Byrons, 1880

  Newstead Abbey, present day

  THE LETTERS AND JOURNALS OF LORD BYRON

  CONTENTS

  VOLUME I.

  PREFACE

  CHAPTER I. 1788-1805.

  CHILDHOOD AND SCHOOL.

  CHAPTER II. 1805-1808.

  CAMBRIDGE AND JUVENILE POEMS.

  CHAPTER III. 1808-1809.

  ‘ENGLISH BARDS, AND SCOTCH REVIEWERS.’

  CHAPTER IV.

  TRAVELS IN ALBANIA, GREECE, ETC. — DEATH OF MRS. BYRON.

  APPENDICES

  APPENDIX I — REVIEW OF WORDSWORTH’S POEMS, 2 VOLS. 1807.

 

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