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Elena is probably CyberSight’s greatest advocate of poetry. When things get slow, or when the mood strikes her, Elena treats us to the beautiful poetry of Lord Byron..... This page is to thank her for showing us all to something we might otherwise never experience..... more than once, there has been a tear in my eye..... these are what I've collected off CS so far...
(I don't know this one’s title but it is my favourite)
Remind me not, remind me not,
Of those beloved, those vanish'd hours,
When all my soul was given to thee.
Hours that may never be forgot,
Till Time unnerves our vital powers,
And thou and I shall cease to be.
Can I forget --- canst thou forget,
When playing with thy golden hair,
How quick thy fluttering heart did move?
Oh! by my soul, I see thee yet,
With eyes so languid, breast so fair,
And lips, though silent, breathing love.
When thus reclining on my breast,
Those eyes threw back a glance so sweet,
As half reproach'd yet rais'd desire,
And still we near and nearer prest,
And still our glowing lips would meet,
As if in kisses to expire.
Love’s Last Adieu
The roses of Love glad the garden of life,
Though nurtur'd 'mid weeds dropping pestilent dew,
Till Time crops the leaves with unmerciful knife,
Or prunes them forever, in Love's last adieu!
In vain, with endearments, we soothe the sad heart,
In vain do we vow for an age to be true;
The chance of an hour may command us to part,
Or Death disunite us, in Love's last adieu!
Still Hope, breathing peace, through the grief-swollen breast,
Will whisper, Our meeting we yet may renew
Or with this dream of deceit, half our sorrow's represt,
Nor taste we the poison, of Love's last adieu!
To Romance
Ye genial Nymphs, whose ready tears
On all occasions swiftly flow;
Whose bosoms heave with fancied fears,
With fancied flames and phrenzy glow
Say, will you mourn my absent name,
Apostate from your gentle train
An infant Bard, at least, may claim
From you a sympathetic strain.
Adieu, fond race! A long adieu!
The hour of fate is hovering nigh;
E'en now the gulf appears in view,
Where unlamented you must lie
Oblivion's blackening lake is seen,
Convuls'd by gales you cannot weather,
Where you, and eke your gentle queen,
Alas! must perish altogether.
(I don’t know this one’s title)
When Friendship or Love Our sympathies move;
When Truth, in a glance, should appear,
The lips may beguile, With a dimple or smile,
But the test of affection's a Tear.
Too oft is a smile But the hypocrite's wile,
To mask detestation, or fear;
Give me the soft sigh, Whilst the soultelling eye
Is dimm'd, for a time, with a Tear.
Mild Charity's glow, To us mortals below,
Shows the soul from barbarity clear;
Compassion will melt, Where this virtue is felt,
And its dew is diffused in a Tear.
The man, doom'd to sail With the blast of the gale,
Through billows Atlantic to steer,
As he bends o'er the wave Which may soon be his grave.
The green sparkles bright with a Tear.
Solitude
There is a pleasure in the pathless woods,
There is a rapture on the lonely shore,
There is society where none intrudes
By the deep sea, and music in its roar.
I love not man the less, but nature more,
From these our interviews in which I steal
From all I may be, or have been before,
To mingle with the universe, and feel
What I can ne'er express, yet cannot all conceal.
TO BASE CAMP...