George Gordon Byron
The Conquest - Poem by George Gordon Byron
The Son of Love and Lord of War I sing;
Him who bade England bow to Normandy
And left the name of conqueror more than king
To his unconquerable dynasty.
Not fann'd alone by Victory's fleeting wing,
He rear'd his bold and brilliant throne on high:
The Bastard kept, like lions, his prey fast,
And Britain's bravest victor was the last.
Comments about The Conquest by George Gordon Byron
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.