George Gordon Byron

[Lord Byron] (22 January 1788 – 19 April 1824 / London, England)

George Gordon Byron Poems

241. Lines Inscribed Upon A Cup Formed From A Skull 1/1/2004
242. Napoleon's Farewell (From The French) 3/24/2010
243. Stanzas For Music: There's Not A Joy The World Can Give 1/1/2004
244. To A Lady 1/1/2004
245. Childe Harold's Pilgrimage: A Romaunt. Canto Iii. 3/29/2010
246. Don Juan: Canto The Eighth 1/1/2004
247. The Eve Of Waterloo 3/25/2010
248. One Struggle More, And I Am Free 3/24/2010
249. Lachin Y Gair 1/1/2004
250. Oh! Snatched Away In Beauty's Bloom 1/1/2004
251. I Saw Thee Weep 3/24/2010
252. Euthanasia 3/24/2010
253. Sun Of The Sleepless! 1/1/2004
254. Maid Of Athens, Ere We Part 3/29/2010
255. On This Day I Complete My Thirty-Sixth Year 1/1/2004
256. Don Juan: Canto The Eleventh 1/1/2004
257. Away, Away, Ye Notes Of Woe! 3/24/2010
258. Childe Harold's Pilgrimage: A Romaunt. Canto Ii. 3/24/2010
259. Dear Doctor, I Have Read Your Play 1/1/2004
260. Written After Swimming From Sestos To Abydos 1/1/2004
261. The Isles Of Greece 1/1/2004
262. Prometheus 1/1/2004
263. Lara 1/1/2004
264. Adieu, Adieu! My Native Shore 3/24/2010
265. There Be None Of Beauty's Daughters 1/1/2004
266. Childe Harold's Pilgrimage: A Romaunt. Canto Iv. 3/29/2010
267. The Prisoner Of Chillon 1/1/2004
268. The Vision Of Judgment 1/1/2004
269. Francisca 3/24/2010
270. The Dark, Blue Sea 3/24/2010
271. Damætas 3/24/2010
272. Childe Harold's Pilgrimage: A Romaunt. Canto I. 3/24/2010
273. The First Kiss Of Love 3/25/2010
274. A Spirit Passed Before Me [from Job] 3/24/2010
275. Bright Be The Place Of Thy Soul! 3/24/2010
276. A Fragment: When, To Their Airy Hall 3/24/2010
277. There Was A Time, I Need Not Name 1/1/2004
278. The Dream 1/1/2004
279. Remember Him, Whom Passion's Power 1/1/2004
280. The Destruction Of Sennacherib 1/1/2004

Comments about George Gordon Byron

  • hasan (11/23/2017 7:12:00 AM)

    Why isn't information full about Byron?

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  • Sylva Portoian Sylva Portoian (3/16/2012 2:30:00 PM)

    * Byron with the Armenians Spirits in Venice
    In 1816, Byron visited Saint Lazarus Island in Venice, where he acquainted himself with Armenian culture with the help of the abbots belonging to the Mechitarist Order. With the help of Father H. Avgerian, he learned the Armenian language, and attended many seminars about language and history. He wrote English Grammar and Armenian in 1817, and Armenian Grammar and English in 1819, where he included quotations from classical and modern Armenian. Byron also participated in the compilation of the English Armenian dictionary in 1821, and wrote the preface in which he explained the relationship of the Armenians with and the oppression of the Turkish pashas and the Persian satraps, and their struggle of liberation. His two main translations are the Epistle of Paul to the Corinthians, two chapters of Movses Khorenatsi's History of Armenia and sections of Nerses of Lambron's Orations. His fascination was so great that he even considered a replacement of the Cain story of the Bible with that of the legend of Armenian patriarch Haik. He may be credited with the birth of Armenology and its propagation. His profound lyricism and ideological courage has inspired many Armenian poets, the likes of Ghevond Alishan, Smbat Shahaziz, Hovhannes Tumanyan, Ruben Vorberian and others.

Best Poem of George Gordon Byron

She Walks In Beauty

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 mellowed to that tender light
Which Heaven to gaudy day denies.

One shade the more, one ray the less,
Had half impaired the nameless grace
Which waves in every raven tress,
Or softly lightens o'er her face;
Where thoughts serenely sweet express,
How pure, how dear their dwelling-place.

And on that cheek, and o'er that brow,
So soft, so calm, yet eloquent,
The smiles that win, the tints that ...

Read the full of She Walks In Beauty

To M. S. G.

Whene'er I view those lips of thine,
Their hue invites my fervent kiss;
Yet, I forego that bliss divine,
Alas! it were---unhallow'd bliss.

Whene'er I dream of that pure breast,
How could I dwell upon its snows!
Yet, is the daring wish represt,
For that,---would banish its repose.

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