[169] She Walks in Beauty
She walks in beauty like the night
Of cloudless climes and starry skies,
And all that's best of dark and bright
Meet in her aspect and her eyes;
Thus mellowed to the tender light
Which heaven to gaudy day denies.
One ray the more, one shade the less
Had half impaired the nameless grace
Which waves in every raven tress
Or softly lightens o'er her face,
Where thoughts serenely sweet express
How pure, how dear their dwelling place.
And on that cheek and o'er that brow
So soft, so calm yet eloquent,
The smiles that win, the tints that glow
But tell of days in goodness spent
A mind at peace with all below,
A heart whose love is innocent.
-- Lord Byron, (George Gordon)
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Today's poem embodies both a lot of what I like, and a lot of what I dislike
about Byron. It starts off brilliantly; the first four lines are beautifully
phrased, and the opening couplet in particular has ingrained itself in the
collective consciousness, on a par with other famous openings like 'How do I
love thee? let me count the ways' and 'All the world's a stage'. Also in
evidence is the effortlessly perfect scansion that characterizes Byron's
work (see, especially, Don Juan[1], his undisputed masterpiece)
However, the latter two verses lose that quality of delicate beauty, and
degenerate into a somewhat lifeless portrayal of a somewhat insipid set of
traits. To be perfectly fair to Byron, it may just be that the poem has not
aged well, but phrases like 'how pure, how dear' tend to jar, and the whole
last verse has a 'pious' quality that borders on affectation.
[1] <http://www.geocities.com/~bblair/donjuan.htm>; dip into it at random to
get the feel of the verse
m.
Note:
In 1815, Byron wrote a series of songs to be set to adaptations of
traditional Jewish tunes by Isaac Nathan. She Walks in Beauty is the
first of those songs.
The woman described is the cousin of Byron's wife, Mrs. Robert John
Wilmot. When Byron first saw her, she was wearing a black mourning gown
with spangles.
-- Bob Blair
Biography:
Byron, George Gordon Byron, 6th Baron
b. Jan. 22, 1788, London, Eng.
d. April 19, 1824, Missolonghi, Greece
byname LORD BYRON, English Romantic poet and satirist whose poetry and
personality captured the imagination of Europe. Renowned as the "gloomy
egoist" of his autobiographical poem Childe Harold's Pilgrimage (1812-18)
in the 19th century, he is now more generally esteemed for the satiric
realism of Don Juan (1819-24).
-- EB
Lord Byron (1788-1824), as his title would indicate, was born into an
aristocratic English family; even so, he led the life of a vagabond; a
"haughty and aristocratic genius" subject only to his own ruling passions.
He was born with a malformation of one foot, which left him with a life
long limp; he grew up, however, to be a dark, handsome man; the women
liked Byron and he liked women; his sexual exploits are legend. Byron
spent most of his adult life on the continent, making his first trip in
1809 with his school chum, John Hobhouse. Hobhouse returned to England
leaving Bryon to go on to Greece by himself. During this eastern trip
Bryon wrote the first two cantos of "Childe Harold," which tells the story
of his tour. On his return to England he arranged for its publication and
it "took the town by storm; seven editions were sold in a month." Byron
tried to settle down into a regular aristocratic life, even to the point
of getting himself married (it lasted but a few months); but none of it
worked very well for Byron. By 1821, Byron was permanently living in Italy
where he is part of a romantic literary circle, a circle which includes
the Hunts; the Shelleys; and, of course, Trelawney. Byron was to get
himself caught up with the war between the Greeks and the Turks, and, in
1824, Byron embarked for Greece. Shortly, thereafter, at the age of 36,
though likely not seeing any action, Byron dies at Missolonghi, Greece.
-- Blupete (<www.blupete.com>)
There's an extensive Byron site at
<http://www.geocities.com/Athens/Forum/9194/byron/bycover.html>
From: "Faith Fiordalis" <faith@>
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From: sblacklaw@ Tue Apr 6 08:53:46 2004
You've made an error in this poem. It should read: One shade the more,
one ray the less.
sb
Stuart T. Blacklaw
Dean of Curriculum and Program Development
Monroe Community College
1000 E. Henrietta Road
Rochester, NY 14623
585.292.2189 phone
585.292.3862 fax
From: andre.simoes@ Mon Aug 16 05:44:47 2004
One litthe correction: The poem is not dedicated to Byron's wife, once
he was not married when he wrote it. It is dedicated to one of Byron's
cousins, when seeing her at a party.
It is related (See L.A. Marchand "Portrait of a free man") that Byron
came home quite "perturbed" by the sight of his cousin, ordered a glass
of brandy, and wrote this poem on that night.