Don Juan

Don Juan Bob Southey! Youre a poet, poet laureate, And representative of all the race. Although tis...
€6,28 EUR
€6,28 EUR
SKU: gb-21700-ebook
Product Type: Books
Please hurry! Only 10000 left in stock
Author: Byron, George Gordon Byron
Format: eBook
Language: English
Subtotal: €6,28
10 customers are viewing this product
Don Juan

Don Juan

€6,28

Don Juan

€6,28
Author: Byron, George Gordon Byron
Format: eBook
Language: English

Don Juan

Bob Southey! Youre a poet, poet laureate, And representative of all the race. Although tis true that you turned out a Tory at Last, yours has lately been a common case. And now my epic renegade, what are ye at With all the lakers, in and out of place? A nest of tuneful persons, to my eye Like four and twenty blackbirds in a pye, Which pye being opened they began to sing (This old song and new simile holds good), A dainty dish to set before the King Or Regent, who admires such kind of food. And Coleridge too has lately taken wing, But like a hawk encumbered with his hood, Explaining metaphysics to the nation. I wish he would explain his explanation. You, Bob, are rather insolent, you know, At being disappointed in your wish To supersede all warblers here below, And be the only blackbird in the dish. And then you overstrain yourself, or so, And tumble downward like the flying fish Gasping on deck, because you soar too high, Bob, And fall for lack of moisture quite a dry Bob. And Wordsworth in a rather long Excursion (I think the quarto holds five hundred pages) Has given a sample from the vasty version Of his new system to perplex the sages. Tis poetry, at least by his assertion, And may appear so when the Dog Star rages, And he who understands it would be able To add a story to the tower of Babel. You gentlemen, by dint of long seclusion From better company, have kept your own At Keswick, and through still continued fusion Of one anothers minds at last have grown To deem, as a most logical conclusion, That poesy has wreaths for you alone. There is a narrowness in such a notion, Which makes me wish youd change your lakes for ocean. I would not imitate the petty thought, Nor coin my self-love to so base a vice, For all the glory your conversion brought, Since gold alone should not have been its price. You have your salary; wast for that you wrought? And Wordsworth has his place in the Excise. Youre shabby fellowstruebut poets still And duly seated on the immortal hill. Your bays may hide the baldness of your brows, Perhaps some virtuous blushes; let them go. To you I envy neither fruit nor boughs, And for the fame you would engross below, The field is universal and allows Scope to all such as feel the inherent glow. Scott, Rogers, Campbell, Moore, and Crabbe will try Gainst you the question with posterity. For me, who, wandering with pedestrian Muses, Contend not with you on the winged steed, I wish your fate may yield ye, when she chooses, The fame you envy and the skill you need. And recollect a poet nothing loses In giving to his brethren their full meed Of merit, and complaint of present days Is not the certain path to future praise. He that reserves his laurels for posterity (Who does not often claim the bright reversion) Has generally no great crop to spare it, he Being only injured by his own assertion. And although here and there some glorious rarity Arise like Titan from the seas immersion, The major part of such appellants go ToGod knows wherefor no one else can know. If fallen in evil days on evil tongues, Milton appealed to the avenger, Time, If Time, the avenger, execrates his wrongs And makes the word Miltonic mean sublime, He deigned not to belie his soul in songs, Nor turn his very talent to a crime. He did not loathe the sire to laud the son, But closed the tyrant-hater he begun. Thinkst thou, could he, the blind old man, arise Like Samuel from the grave to freeze once more The blood of monarchs with his prophecies, Or be alive againagain all hoar With time and trials, and those helpless eyes And heartless daughtersworn and pale and poor, Would he adore a sultan? He obey The intellectual eunuch Castlereagh? Cold-blooded, smooth-faced, placid miscreant! Dabbling its sleek young hands in Erins gore, And thus for wider carnage taught to pant, Transferred to gorge upon a sister shore, The vulgarest tool that tyranny could want, With just enough of talent and no more, To lengthen fetters by another fixed And offer poison long already mixed. An orator of such set trash of phrase, Ineffably, legitimately vile, That even its grossest flatterers dare not praise, Nor foesall nationscondescend to smile. Not even a sprightly blunders spark can blaze From that Ixion grindstones ceaseless toil, That turns and turns to give the world a notion Of endless torments and perpetual motion. A bungler even in its disgusting trade, And botching, patching, leaving still behind Something of which its masters are afraid, States to be curbed and thoughts to be confined, Conspiracy or congress to be made, Cobbling at manacles for all mankind, A tinkering slave-maker, who mends old chains, With God and mans abhorrence for its gains. If we may judge of matter by the mind, Emasculated to the marrow, it Hath but two objects, how to serve and bind, Deeming the chain it wears even men may fit, Eutropius of its many masters, blind To worth as freedom, wisdom as to wit, Fearless, because no feeling dwells in ice; Its very courage stagnates to a vice. Where shall I turn me not to view its bonds, For I will never feel them. Italy, Thy late reviving Roman soul desponds Beneath the lie this state-thing breathed oer thee. Thy clanking chain and Erins yet green wounds Have voices, tongues to cry aloud for me. Europe has slaves, allies, kings, armies still, And Southey lives to sing them very ill. Meantime, Sir Laureate, I proceed to dedicate In honest simple verse this song to you. And if in flattering strains I do not predicate, Tis that I still retain my buff and blue; My politics as yet are all to educate. Apostasys so fashionable too, To keep one creeds a task grown quite Herculean Is it not so, my Tory, ultra-Julian? ......Buy Now (To Read More)

Product details

Ebook Number: 21700
Author: Byron, George Gordon Byron
Release Date: Jun 6, 2007
Format: eBook
Language: English

Returns Policy

You may return most new, unopened items within 30 days of delivery for a full refund. We'll also pay the return shipping costs if the return is a result of our error (you received an incorrect or defective item, etc.).

You should expect to receive your refund within four weeks of giving your package to the return shipper, however, in many cases you will receive a refund more quickly. This time period includes the transit time for us to receive your return from the shipper (5 to 10 business days), the time it takes us to process your return once we receive it (3 to 5 business days), and the time it takes your bank to process our refund request (5 to 10 business days).

If you need to return an item, simply login to your account, view the order using the "Complete Orders" link under the My Account menu and click the Return Item(s) button. We'll notify you via e-mail of your refund once we've received and processed the returned item.

Shipping

We can ship to virtually any address in the world. Note that there are restrictions on some products, and some products cannot be shipped to international destinations.

When you place an order, we will estimate shipping and delivery dates for you based on the availability of your items and the shipping options you choose. Depending on the shipping provider you choose, shipping date estimates may appear on the shipping quotes page.

Please also note that the shipping rates for many items we sell are weight-based. The weight of any such item can be found on its detail page. To reflect the policies of the shipping companies we use, all weights will be rounded up to the next full pound.

Related Products

Recently Viewed Products