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    Lara
    Lara
    Lara
    Ebook80 pages41 minutes

    Lara

    By George Gordon Byron

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    About this ebook

    Lara by George Gordon Byron is about the rhymed, tragic narrative poem by Lord Byron first published in 1814. The narrative poem recounts the story of the fateful return of Count Lara to his home after spending years abroad traveling the Orient. One of Byron's footnotes explains that, even though the name "Lara" is of Spanish origin, "no circumstance of local or national description fix[es] the scene or hero of the poem to any country or age". Excerpt: "The Poems afterward entitled "Occasional Pieces," which were included in the several editions of the Collected Works issued by Murray, 1819-1831, numbered fifty-seven in all. They may be described as the aggregate of the shorter poems written between the years 1809-1818, which the author thought worthy of a permanent place among his poetical works."
    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherGood Press
    Release dateDec 8, 2020
    ISBN4064066434625
    Lara
    Author

    George Gordon Byron

    George Gordon Byron (1788–1824), commonly known as Lord Byron, was an English poet and a leading figure in the Romantic movement.

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      Book preview

      Lara - George Gordon Byron

      George Gordon Byron

      Lara

      Published by Good Press, 2022

      goodpress@okpublishing.info

      EAN 4064066434625

      Table of Contents

      Cover

      Titlepage

      Canto the First

      Canto the Second

      Canto the First

      I.

      Table of Contents

      The Serfs are glad through Lara's wide domain, [2]

      And slavery half forgets her feudal chain;

      He, their unhoped, but unforgotten lord —

      The long self-exiled chieftain is restored:

      There be bright faces in the busy hall,

      Bowls on the board, and banners on the wall;

      Far chequering o'er the pictured window, plays

      The unwonted fagots' hospitable blaze;

      And gay retainers gather round the hearth,

      With tongues all loudness, and with eyes all mirth.

      II.

      Table of Contents

      The chief of Lara is return'd again:

      And why had Lara cross'd the bounding main?

      Left by his sire, too young such loss to know,

      Lord of himself; — that heritage of woe,

      That fearful empire which the human breast

      But holds to rob the heart within of rest! —

      With none to check, and few to point in time

      The thousand paths that slope the way to crime;

      Then, when he most required commandment, then

      Had Lara's daring boyhood govern'd men.

      It skills not, boots not, step by step to trace

      His youth through all the mazes of its race;

      Short was the course his restlessness had run,

      But long enough to leave him half undone.

      III.

      Table of Contents

      And Lara left in youth his fatherland;

      But from the hour he waved his parting hand

      Each trace wax'd fainter of his course, till all

      Had nearly ceased his memory to recall.

      His sire was dust, his vassals could declare,

      'Twas all they knew, that Lara was not there;

      Nor sent, nor came he, till conjecture grew

      Cold in the many, anxious in the few.

      His hall scarce echoes with his wonted name,

      His portrait darkens in its fading frame,

      Another chief consoled his destined bride,

      The young forgot him, and the old had died;

      Yet doth he live! exclaims the impatient heir,

      And sighs for sables which he must not wear.

      A hundred scutcheons deck with gloomy grace

      The Laras' last and longest dwelling-place;

      But one is absent from the mouldering file,

      That now were welcome to that Gothic pile.

      IV.

      Table of Contents

      He comes at last in sudden loneliness,

      And whence they know not, why they need not guess;

      They more might marvel, when the greeting's o'er,

      Not that he came, but came not long before:

      No train is his beyond a single page,

      Of foreign aspect, and of tender age.

      Years had roll'd on, and fast they speed away

      To those that wander as to those that stay;

      But lack of tidings from another clime

      Had lent a flagging wing to weary Time.

      They see, they recognise, yet almost deem

      The present dubious, or the past a dream.

      He lives, nor yet is past his manhood's prime,

      Though sear'd by toil, and something touch'd by time;

      His faults, whate'er they were, if scarce forgot,

      Might be untaught him by his varied lot;

      Nor good nor ill of late were known, his name

      Might yet uphold his patrimonial fame.

      His soul in youth was haughty, but his sins

      No more than pleasure from the stripling wins;

      And such, if not yet harden'd in their course,

      Might be

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