English Romantic poet and lyricist (1788–1824)
George Gordon (Noel) Byron, 6th Baron Byron (January 22 1788 – April 19 1824), generally known as Lord Byron, was an English poet and leading figure in Romanticism. He was the father of the mathematician Ada Lovelace.
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XXII. By those, that deepest feel, is ill exprest The indistinctness of the suffering breast; Where thousand thoughts begin to end in one, 1810 Which seeks from all the refuge found in none; No words suffice the secret soul to show, For Truth denies all eloquence to Woe. On Conrad’s stricken soul Exhaustion prest, And Stupor almost lulled it into rest; So feeble now — his mother’s softness crept To those wild eyes, which like an infant’s wept: It was the very weakness of his brain, Which thus confessed without relieving pain. None saw his trickling tears — perchance, if seen, 1820 That useless flood of grief had never been: Nor long they flowed — he dried them to depart, In helpless — hopeless — brokenness of heart: The Sun goes forth, but Conrad’s day is dim: And the night cometh — ne’er to pass from him. There is no darkness like the cloud of mind, On Grief’s vain eye — the blindest of the blind! Which may not — dare not see — but turns aside To blackest shade — nor will endure a guide!
Juan quase lhe pergunta o que se passa, (Juan would question further, but she pressed)
Mas ela o silencia com um beijo. (His lip to hers and silenced him with this,)
Beijando, o mau agouro ela apaga. (And then dismissed the omen from her breast,)
Sufocou os presságios no seu peito. (Defying augury with that fond kiss.)
Boa maneira para acalmar a alma; (And no doubt of all methods 'tis the best;)
Alguns preferem vinho. Não rejeito. (Some peolple prefer wine - 'tis not amiss.)
Provei os dois. Escolha quem deseja: (I have tried both; so those who would a part take)
O coração partido, ou a enxaqueca. (May choose between the headache and the heartache.)
Man, being reasonable, must get drunk;
The best of life is but intoxication:
Glory, the grape, love, gold, in these are sunk
The hopes of all men, and of every nation;
Without their sap, how branchless were the trunk
Of life’s strange tree, so fruitful on occasion:
But to return, — Get very drunk; and when
You wake with head- ache, you shall see what then.
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