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LORD BYRON (GEORGE GORDON NOEL BYRON)
English poet
(1788 - 1824)
  CHECK READING LIST (2)    << Prev Page    Displaying page 29 of 34    Next Page >> 

To sanction Vice, and hunt Decorum down.
      - English Bards and Scotch Reviewers
         (l. 621) [Vice]

A man must serve his time to every trade
  Save censure--critics all are ready made.
    Take hackney'd jokes from Miller, got by rote,
      With just enough of learning to misquote;
        A mind well skill'd to find or forge a fault;
          A turn for punning, call it Attic salt;
            To Jeffrey go, be silent and discreet,
              His pay is just ten sterling pounds per sheet;
                Fear not to lie, 'twill seem a lucky hit;
                  Shrink not from blasphemy, 'twill pass for wit;
                    Care not for feeling--pass your proper jest,
                      And stand a critic, hated yet caress'd.
      - English Bards and Scotch Reviewers (l. 63)
        [Criticism]

With just enough of learning to misquote.
      - English Bards and Scotch Reviewers (l. 66)
        [Quotations]

Oh! nature's noblest gift--my gray-goose quill!
  Slave of my thoughts, obedient to my will,
    Torn from thy parent-bird to form a pen,
      That might instrument of little men!
      - English Bards and Scotch Reviewers (l. 7)
        [Pen]

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.
      - English Bards and Scotch Reviewers (l. 75)
        [Criticism]

Ye tuneful cobblers! still your notes prolong,
  Compose at once a slipper and a song;
    So shall the fair your handiwork peruse,
      Your sonnets sure shall please--perhaps your shoes.
      - English Bards and Scotch Reviewers
         (l. 751) [Shoemaking]

May Moorland weavers boast Pindaric skill,
  And tailors' lays be longer than their bill!
    While punctual beaux reward the grateful notes,
      And pay for poems--when they pay for coats.
      - English Bards and Scotch Reviewers
         (l. 781) [Tailors]

Keen were his pangs, but keener far to feel,
  He nursed the pinion, which impell'd the steel.
      - English Bards and Scotch Reviewers
         (l. 823) [Regret]

So the struck eagle, stretched upon the plain,
  No more through rolling clouds to soar again,
    Viewed his own feather on the fatal dart,
      And wing'd the shaft that quivered in his heart.
      - English Bards and Scotch Reviewers
         (l. 826) [Eagles]

A would-be satirist, a hired buffoon,
  A monthly scribbler of some low lampoon,
    Condemn'd to drudge, the meanest of the mean,
      And furbish falsehoods for a magazine.
      - English Bards and Scotch Reviewers
         (l. 975) [Journalism]

The careful pilot of my proper woe.
      - Epistle to Augustana (no. 3, st. 3) [Help]

Fare thee well! and if for ever,
  Still for ever, fare thee well.
      - Fare Thee Well [Farewell : Parting]

I have not quailed to danger's brow
  When high and happy--need I now?
      - Gaiour (l. 1,035) [Danger]

A gilded halo hovering round decay.
      - Giaour (l. 100) [Decay]

Shrine of the mighty! can it be,
  That this is all remains of thee?
      - Giaour (l. 106) [Change : Epitaphs]

For Freedom's battle once begun,
  Bequeath'd by bleeding sire to son,
    Though baffled oft is ever won.
      - Giaour (l. 123) [Freedom]

Dark tree! still sad when other's grief is fled,
  The only constant mourner o'er the dead.
      - Giaour (l. 286) [Cypress]

His breast with wounds unnumber'd riven,
  His back to earth, his face to heaven.
      - Giaour (l. 675) [Soldiers]

Hark, hark! Deep sounds, and deeper still,
  Are howling from the mountain's bosom:
    There's not a breath of wind upon the hill,
      Yet quivers every leaf, and drops every blossom:
        Earth groans as if beneath a heavy load.
      - Heaven and Earth (pt. I, sc. 3) [Thunder]

Farce follow'd Comedy, and reach'd her prime.
  In ever-laughing Foote's fantastic time;
    Mad wag! who pardon'd none, nor spared the best,
      And turn'd some very serious things to jest.
        Nor church nor state escaped his public sneers,
          Arms nor the gown, priests, lawyers, volunteers;
            "Alas, poor Yorick!" now forever mute!
              Whoever loves a laugh must sigh for Foote.
                We smile, perforce, when histrionic scenes
                  Ape the swoln dialogue of kings and queens,
                    When "Chrononhotonthelogos must die,"
                      And Arthur struts in mimic majesty.
      - Hints from Horace (l. 329) [Acting]

Dear authors! suit your topics to your strength,
  And ponder well your subject, and its length;
    Nor lift your lad, before you're quite aware
      What weight your shoulders will, or will not, bear.
      - Hints from Horace (l. 59) [Authorship]

Friendship is Love without his wings!
      - L' Amitie est l' Amour sans Ailes (st. 1)
        [Friendship]

But owned that smile, if oft observed and near,
  Waned in its mirth, and wither'd to a sneer.
      - Lara (canto I, st. 17, l. 11) [Smiles]

With more capacity for love than earth
  Bestows on most of mortal mould and birth,
    His early dreams of good out-stripp'd the truth,
      And troubled manhood follow'd baffled youth.
      - Lara (canto I, st. 18) [Character]

Lord of himself;--that heritage of woe!
      - Lara (canto I, st. 2) [Man]


Displaying page 29 of 34 for this author:   << Prev  Next >>  1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 [29] 30 31 32 33 34

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