Impromptus
Strahan,
Tonson,
Lintot of the times, Patron and publisher of rhymes, For thee the bard up Pindus climbs, My Murray. To thee, with hope and terror dumb, The unfledged MS. authors come; Thou printest all-and sellest some- My Murray. Upon thy table's baize so green The last new Quarterly is seen,- But where is thy new Magazine, My Murray? Along thy sprucest bookshelves shine The works thou deemest most divine- The "Art of Cookery,"and mine, My Murray. Tours,
Travels,
Essays, too,
I wist, And Sermons, to thy mill bring grist; And then thou hast the "Navy List," My Murray. And Heaven forbid I should conclude Without "the Board of Longitude," Although this narrow paper would, My Murray. When a man hath no freedom to fight for at home, Let him combat for that of his neighbours; Let him think of the glories of Greece and of Rome, And get knock'd on the head for his labours. To do good to mankind is the chivalrous plan, And is always as nobly requited; Then battle for freedom wherever you can, And, if not shot or hang'd, you'll get knighted.
Composition Date:
March 25, 1818.
Form: aaab, abab.
George Gordon Byron
Other author posts
Stanzas Composed During A Thunderstorm
Chill and mirk is the nightly blast, Where Pindus' mountains rise, And angry clouds are pouring fast The vengeance of the skies Our guides are gone, our hope is lost, And lightnings, as they play, But show where rocks our path have ...
Remember Thee! Remember Thee!
Remember thee remember thee Till Lethe quench life's burning stream Remorse and shame shall cling to thee, And haunt thee like a feverish dream Remember thee
I Speak Not I Trace Not I Breathe Not Thy Name
I speak not, I trace not, I breathe not thy name; There is grief in the sound, there is guilt in the fame;
When We Two Parted
When we two parted In silence and tears, Half broken-hearted To sever for years,
