Byron stanzas. One of Byron's best poems: "Stanzas to Augusta." Stanzas for Augusta

"Among Lord Byron's small poems there is one which has never received from critics the praise which it undoubtedly deserves... Although the meter used here is one of the most difficult, the technical side of the verse hardly leaves much to be desired. A nobler subject has never called to work the poet's pen. The idea of the poem elevates the soul is that no one has the right to complain about the vicissitudes of fate if the unshakable love of a woman does not abandon him."

Stanzas for Augusta

(“Even though fate changed me in everything…”)

Even though fate changed everything for me

And my star has set

You never blamed me

She never judged me.

You unraveled my anxious spirit,

One shared my lot.

I dreamed of impossible love -

And she appeared to me in you.

If I smile and unexpectedly

The flowers answer with a smile,

I don't have to be afraid of deception

Because that's how you smile.

If the wind quarrels with the waves,

Like my friends and family are with me,

Only because it is between us,

This sea worries me.

Let Hope, my ship, be broken

And the debris sinks to the bottom,

Pride is the only protection for the heart in storms,

But even under torture it will not give in.

For I prefer death to contempt,

I am not afraid of any slander.

And I will not be forced to humility,

If you will be an ally.

People lie - you have never lied

She was not faithful to me like a woman,

You loved without demanding payment,

And she gave love for love.

You, without flinching, objected to the lies,

She didn't follow me for gossip,

When she parted with me, she didn’t run

And she didn’t hide the knife behind her back.

I don’t swear this world is hostile,

Where everyone is chasing one:

I didn't sing a song of praise to him,

But he was in no hurry to leave him.

And I pay a terrible price for a mistake

Paid in these troubled days,

But you are with me forever,

And they won't take you away.

The storm erased the past, and so,

How can I console myself?

What was most dear to me,

It turned out to be most worthy.

And in the sands the key still shines silver,

And the star is still burning in the sky,

And in the desert another bird sings

And he speaks about you to his soul.

George Gordon Noel Byron

George Gordon Byron (Noel), from 1798 6th Baron Byron (eng. George Gordon Byron (Noel), 6th Baron Byron; 22 January 1788, Dover - 19 April 1824, Missolonghi, Ottoman Greece), usually referred to simply as Lord Byron, was an English romantic poet who captured the imagination of all Europe with his “dark selfishness.” Along with P. B. Shelley and J. Keats, he represents the younger generation of English romantics. Fans of the “throne and altar” with Southey and the guards of the Anglican Zion at their head looked with horror at such titanic natures as Byron, Shelley, Keats, who so boldly pushed the boundaries of the traditional worldview of old England; These poets were called members of the “Satanic school,” but they surpassed all modern poets in their high flight of imagination, the greatness of their plans, and the fecundity of their creative power.

Loving others heavy cross, wrote the brilliant Russian poet, most likely referring to Z. Neuhaus, later his wife, and the English poet wrote Stanzas to Augusta, referring to his half-sister Augusta. And one classic translated another, most likely describing his love, but not Byron. Is this good? The persecution of Pasternak continues to this day, graphomaniacs find it difficult to come to terms with real poetry, but Byron also lived a difficult life, and who better to tell than Pasternak about her. Pasternak, as an egocentric translator, had many complaints, but it seems to us that in Stanzas to Augustus all the features of his creative style as a translator are concentrated in a concentrated form.

So, let’s read two different poems, not forgiving the choking in the form of “beautiful without convolutions.” Byron's divine tongue-tiedness is nowhere to be seen.

Although the day of my destiny has passed,

And the star of fate has set,

Your tender heart refused to acknowledge

My misdeeds (falls, mistakes) are obvious to others.

And although your soul was familiar with my grief,

She did not shrink (like mine) sharing my grief.

And the Love that my spirit sang,

I found only in You.

Thiso the image of a friend, stronger, support in life. The poet's style and vocabulary are romance, naturally romantic, fate, a setting star, a tender heart, soul... the whole set of romantic cliches. But there were some falls. Let us note that Byron sang Love in a broad sense, but found it only in August.

When my time has passed
And my star has set
Only you weren’t looking for shortcomings
And he is not the judge of my mistakes.
Troubles don't scare you,
And love, whose features
So many times I trusted paper,
Only you remain in my life

Pasternak begins, still intending to translate Byron, but when it comes to describing the lyres. The hero already here chooses rather soft words from a possible set of synonyms. But Byron’s enemies, about whom he complains to his love, are unlikely to take up arms against him for his shortcomings or mistakes. And was it worth grieving about the shortcomings? Pasternak omits the characteristics of his beloved (courage, support for his beloved) and continues to focus on the lyre. a hero, a poet. A scrape is not a romantic word at all, it’s modern, and a scrape is, well, a small brawldecomposition predicament, unpleasant or troublesome occurrence, not worthy of grief. But Pasternak is more emotional than Byron, he could get sunburnt from any nonsense. Although I wrote it myself“But defeats from victory..”, not “shortcomings from victory.” The grammar of the final phrase makes one read that Poet sang only his beloved, and not Love in general, or that the poet was disappointed much earlier than he put on Byron’s cloak.

And then, now, when Nature smiles around me,

This is the last smile in response to mine,

I don’t believe (that she is) a temptation, (a deception, an attempt to distract)

Because it reminds you of Yours.

And when the winds fight with the ocean

How are things with me that I believed in?

When they rise, they exceed a certain feeling,

This is because they take me away from You.

It describes quite complex relationships between lovers, including sacrifice, a request for indulgence, and then gratitude for the fact that the beloved does not give in to weakness. Great literature begins, but English...

That's why when I go on the road
Nature sends her smile,
I don’t expect forgery in hello
And I recognize you in your smile.
When the whirlwinds fight with the abyss,
Like souls in exile, mourning,
That's why the waves excite me,
That carry me away from you.

From Nature there is only one road, outside of nature, or the road is already quite urban, but the forgery, in comparison with the beloved, is a complete disgrace, two smiles are compared, nature and women, then it remains to assume that Augusta could have issued false bills. But then it’s even more surprising, well, even if the abyss is an exaggerated synonym for the ocean, but grieving warriors on the battlefield... It turns out that Pasternak does not master the art of comparison at all, but this is in translations; in his own poems he is completely fluent in the trope.

Though the rock of my last hope trembles

And its fragments drown in the wave,

Although I feel it. that my soul has surrendered to pain - it will not be its slave.

Sharp pain (torment) haunts me,

She can destroy, but she does not despise,

She can torment

But he won't subdue me.

I think about you, not about her,

Byronnet forgets that his landscape is romantic, rocks, waves, the owner of the slave is pain.

And even though the stronghold of happiness collapsed
And fragments of hope at the bottom,
All the same, in melancholy and despondency,
I will not be their slave.
No matter how much trouble comes from everywhere,
I'll get lost - I'll find you in a moment,
I'm tired - but I won't forget myself
Because I'm yours, not theirs.

A stronghold is a fortress, quite possible in a romantic landscape, or a stronghold. But melancholy and despondency are one and the same. And the pain is stronger than melancholy. Because it really hurts. Although the most surprising thing about this stanza is that I won’t forget myself... Very resourceful. No, it turns out he doesn’t love her. This is extreme selfishness and there is no time for August.

Although - man, you didn’t betray me,

Although - woman, you did not leave me,

You loved, but refrained from compassion for me,

Although slandered, you never trembled,

Even though I trusted you, you never gave up on me

Although far from me, it was not an escape,

Although incredulous, she did not defame me,

I didn’t remain silent when the world was able to lie to me.

Byron does not have a very high opinion of either people or women, even differentiating them from people before the era of feminism. But he elevates his woman in this way. This stanza is an element of a ballad of contradictions, which in translation is practically beyond the control of anyone.

You are one of mortals, and you are not wicked,
You are one of the women, but they are no match,
You don't think love is fun
And you are not afraid of slander.
You don't take a single step from the word,
You're away - there's no separation,
You are on guard, but friendship is for the good,
You are careless, but to the detriment of the world.

And Pasternak copes with paradoxes, although the last line is incomprehensible, careless, harming the light... the light is here high society, naturally. Another thing is that Byron didn’t write any of this, but Pasternak often stylized it to suit his own style. And escape, not departure, turns out that the imaginary beloved is more desirable than the real one. Well, this also happens... It is curious that in other translations, if the original says light (society), then Pasternak will say in a rush - the whole world, and here, on the contrary, he played quietly.

And yet I do not blame the World, and I do not despise it,

I don’t blame the war of all against one,

If my soul is unable to appreciate what is happening,

It would be reckless not to avoid persecution.

But if my recklessness cost me dearly,

And more than I could have foreseen

I found what lost me

Something that won't take me away from You.

A dizzying tirade, reminiscent of those from Pasternak. It’s not nice to be famous... and he also brought persecution on himself, he understands what he’s bringing upon himself. The light, however, was dimmer than in Byron's time.

I don't rate him low at all
But in the fight of one against all
Incur his persecution
It's as stupid as believing in success.
Finding out his worth too late
I was cured of blindness
Even the loss of the universe is not enough,
If in grief the reward is you.

Also a magnificent tirade, how the center of the universe is shifting again!! For Byron it is a war of all against one, for Pasternak it is exactly the opposite - one against all. And you wonder, what if he had known success earlier, and he received success early, his genius was highly valued even in the time of his first books. But who will explain what the last two lines mean, stuck according to Pasternak’s famous recipe?

If you are rewarded in grief, then even the loss of the universe is not enough? Did Pasternak foresee many universes, recently discovered, or does he seriously demand the complete destruction of the entire Universe, so that no one, including Nature, would interfere with the enjoyment of Augusta?

One way or another, Byron did not write anything like that and bribes from him are smooth.

All I remember after the shipwreck

The vanished past taught me

To what is most dear to me,

And deserves to be so -

A fountain bubbling in the desert

On the vast wasteland - a tree,

A lonely bird sings to my soul about You.

He remembers a lot, both oriental motifs and the landscape of England.

The death of the past, everything is destroyed,
It brought triumph in some ways:
What was most dear to me,
Desert is more valuable than anything else.
There is a spring in the desert to drink from,
There is a tree on a bald hump,
Alone songbird
Sings to me all day about you.

Byron still retained the image of the waves from the first stanza in his memory, Pasternak remembered less, the death of the whole world from the neighboring one, Triumph is a rather ambiguous word, he just demolished the world. What a vengeful one, like some Chechen, Ingush or infidel!

Bald Mountain, the place of the Sabbaths and, judging by Bulgakov, the place of Christ’s execution, brings even more confusion. But having calmed down, Pasternak is already quiet and modest, like Byron himself.

It’s hard to say whether these poems are good in themselves, they sound good, but as a translation it’s outrageous. This is probably why Pleshcheev’s translation was included in the 4th volume, so that all translations would look equally professional, but Pleshcheev’s version is far from Pasternak’s level, snot and screams, below poems even by Pleshcheev himself.

Original here:

http://www.kalliope.org/da/digt.pl?longdid=byron2002021401

and who cares about Byronato’s intimate life here:

I really love this poem by Byron translated by Pasternak! Having decided to post it here along with the author’s original text, I accidentally discovered two more very good translation this poem. Therefore, I am posting here three translation options.
Which one do you like best?

*****************************************************************************************

His wife, Anabella Milbank, did not share the poet’s interests. Being educated and even writing poetry, she was completely alien to Byron’s freedom-loving poetry; she was irritated by her husband’s temper (...). A month after the birth of her daughter Ada, she took the child and returned to her parents’ home. Having entered into relations with psychiatrists, Anabella tried with their help to declare Byron mentally ill. When this failed, she filed for divorce.

***
When my time has passed
And my star has set
Only you weren’t looking for shortcomings
And he is not the judge of my mistakes.

Troubles don't scare you,
And love, whose features
So many times I trusted paper,
The only thing left in my life is you.

That's why when I go on the road
Nature sends her smile,
I don’t smell a fake in hello
And I recognize you in your smile.

When the whirlwinds fight with the abyss,
Like souls in exile, mourning,
That's why the waves excite me,
That carry me away from you.

And even though the stronghold of happiness collapsed
And fragments of hope at the bottom,
It’s all the same: in melancholy and despondency
I will not be their slave.

No matter how much trouble comes from everywhere,
I'll get lost - I'll find you in a moment,
I’ll be tired, but I won’t forget myself,
Because I'm yours, not theirs.

You are one of mortals, and you are not wicked,
You are one of the women, but they are no match.
You don't think love is fun
And you are not afraid of slander.

You don't take a single step from the word,
You're away - there's no separation,
You are on guard, but friendship is for the good,
You are careless, but to the detriment of the world.

I don't rate him at all low
But in the fight of one against all
Incur his persecution
It's as stupid as believing in success.

Finding out his worth too late
I was cured of blindness:
Even the loss of the universe is not enough,
If in grief the reward is you.

The death of the past, everything is destroyed,
It brought triumph in some ways:
What was most dear to me,
Desert is more valuable than anything else.

There is a spring in the desert to drink from,
There is a tree on a bald hump,
Alone songbird
Sings to me all day about you.

Augusta Lee

***

When there was terrible darkness all around,
And my mind seemed to fade away
When hope appeared to me
A distant pale light;

When I was ready to give up
I'm in a long and stubborn battle,
And, listening to black slander,
Everyone ran away from me;

When in the exhausted chest
The arrows of hatred pierced
Only you shone like a star in the darkness
And she showed me the way.

Blessed be this light
Stars of the unfading, beloved,
What, like the eye of a seraphim,
He took care of me in the midst of storms and troubles.

The cloud followed the cloud,
Without darkening the radiant star;
She has her pure shine across the sky,
Until the night disappeared, it poured.

Oh, be with me! Teach me
Either be brave or be patient:
Not to the lying sentences of the world, -
I only believe your words!

You stood like a tree,
What survived the storm,
And over the gravestone
Bows the faithful sheets.

When in menacing skies
Darkness and an evil storm have thickened
Roared all around without stopping,
You leaned towards me in tears.

You and all your loved ones
Fate protects from dangerous storms.
He who is good is worthy of clear skies;
You are worthy of them above all.

Love in us is often only a lie;
But you are not available to betrayal,
Unshakable, incorruptible,
Although your soul is tender.

I met with the same faith
You in the days of disaster, perishing,
And a world where there is such a soul,
It's no longer a desert for me.

Translation by A. Pleshcheev

Byron's daughter, Augusta Ada King (née Byron), Countess of Lovelace (1815-1852), was an English mathematician. She is best known for creating a description of a computer, the design of which was developed by Charles Babbage. Also introduced the terms “cycle” and “work cell”.

***
When the darkness thickened all around
And the night took over my mind,
When the wrong light
There was barely hope for me,

At that hour when, shrouded in darkness,
The orphaned spirit trembles,
When, fearing human rumors,
The coward gives in and the brave hesitates,

When love abandons us
And we are haunted by enmity, -
Only you were there at that terrible hour
My unfading star.

Blessed be your pure light!
Like the eye of a seraph,
In a time of evil storms and troubles
He beamed at me unquenchably.

At the sight of a thundercloud
You looked even brighter
And, having met your gentle flame,
The night was passing and the darkness was thinning.

May it forever float above me
Your spirit is on my harsh path.
What does the whole world with its enmity mean to me?
Before your single word!

You were that flexible willow
That, without breaking, heeds the storm
And, like a friend, bowing the sheets,
The tombstone is enclosed.

I saw the sky all on fire
I heard thunder overhead
But you come to me even in stormy times
Bowed down with weeping leaves.

Oh, neither to you nor to all yours
May you never know my torment!
May the sun be golden
Your day is warmed up, my good genius!

When I was abandoned by everyone,
Only you remained faithful to me,
Your meek spirit did not give up,
Your love hasn't changed.

At the crossroads of existence
You are my refuge until now,
And believe me, even I am with you
Not alone in the human desert.

Translation by V. Levik

Stanzas To Augusta

When all around grew drear and dark, And reason half withheld her ray - And hope but shed a dying spark Which more misled my lonely way; In that deep midnight of the mind, And that internal strife of heart, When dreading to be considered too kind, The weak despair -the cold depart; When fortune changed -and love fled far, And hatred"s shafts flew thick and fast, Thou wert the solitary star Which rose, and set not to the last. Oh, shine be thine unbroken light! That watched me as a seraph"s eye, And stood between me and the night, For ever shining sweetly nigh. And when the cloud upon us came, Which strove to blacken o"er thy ray - Then purer spread its gentle flame, And dashed the darkness all away. Still may thy spirit dwell on mine, And teach it what to brave or brook - There "s more in one soft word of thine Than in the world"s defied rebuke. Thou stood"st as stands a lovely tree That, still unbroke though gently bent, Still waves with fond fidelity Its boughs above a monument. The winds might rend, the skies might pour, But there thou wert -and still wouldst be Devoted in the stormiest hour To shed thy weeping leaves o"er me. But thou and thine shall know no blight, Whatever fate on me may fall; For heaven in sunshine will requite The kind -and thee the most of all. Then let the ties of baffled love Be broken -thine will never break; Thy heart can feel -but will not move; Thy soul, though soft, will never shake . And these, when all was lost beside, Were found, and still are fixed in thee;- And bearing still a breast so tried, Earth is no desert -e"en to me.

When there was terrible darkness all around,

And my mind seemed to fade away

When hope appeared to me

A distant pale light;

When I was ready to give up

I'm in a long and stubborn battle,

And, listening to black slander,

Everyone ran away from me;

When in the exhausted chest

The arrows of hatred pierced

Only you shone like a star in the darkness

And she showed me the way.

Blessed be this light

Stars of the unfading, beloved,

What, like the eye of a seraphim,

He took care of me in the midst of storms and troubles.

The cloud followed the cloud,

Without darkening the radiant star;

She has her pure shine across the sky,

Until the night disappeared, it poured.

Oh, be with me! Teach me

Either be brave or be patient:

Not to the lying sentences of the world, -

I only believe your words!

You stood like a tree,

What survived the storm,

And over the gravestone

Bows the faithful sheets.

When in menacing skies

Darkness and an evil storm have thickened

Roared all around without stopping,

You leaned towards me in tears.

You and all your loved ones

Fate protects from dangerous storms.

He who is good is worthy of clear skies;

You are worthy of them above all.

Love in us is often only a lie;

But you are not available to betrayal,

Unshakable, incorruptible,

Although your soul is tender.

I met with the same faith

You in the days of disaster, perishing,

And a world where there is such a soul,

It's no longer a desert for me.

Notes

This section includes poems written by Byron during

the time of his two-year journey (1809-1811) and from what he wrote in his homeland from

England. During this period, Byron was developing as a romantic poet.

Girl from Cadiz. For the first time - Collected Works in 17 volumes, London,

Murray, 1832-1833.

Byron originally intended to include the poem in the first canto

"Childe Harold", but then replaced it with another - "Inese", more appropriate

according to its mood to the stanzas between which it is placed (84-85).

To the album. For the first time - "Childe Harold", first edition, 1812.

The poems are dedicated to Florence Spencer Smith, the widow of an English diplomat, with

whom Byron met in Malta. Florence Smith's biography was rich

years calls her “a completely extraordinary woman.”

Stanzas written during the passage past the Gulf of Ambraki. First -

"Childe Harold", first edition, 1812.

The poems are dedicated to Florence Smith. See note. to the previous poem.

Abydos. For the first time - "Childe Harold", first edition, 1812.

in the poem he writes: "... Lieutenant Akenhead and the author of these poems swam

from the European coast to the Asian one, however, it would be more correct to say from

Abydos to Sestos."

Leander is the name of a young man from an ancient Greek myth, which talks about

how Leander swam across the Hellespont (the ancient name of the Dardanelles) from Abydos to

Sestos to see his beloved Gero. Gero lit the fire

lighthouse, towards the light of which Leander swam. But one day the fire went out, and Leander

Athenian girl. For the first time - "Childe Harold", first edition, 1812.

The poem is probably dedicated to Teresa, the widow's eldest daughter

English Vice-Consul in Athens Theodora Macri. Byron lived in her house during

time spent in Athens.

Epitaph for myself. For the first time - Thomas Moore. "Life, letters and diaries

Lord Byron", vol. 1, 1830.

As a result of Romanelli's treatment, he was close to "giving up the ghost" and

“in this state he wrote the epitaph,” and added: “But nature and Job in

Romanelli fought in retaliation for my doubts..."

Song of the Greek rebels. For the first time - "Childe Harold", first edition,

In the liner notes, Byron states that this is "a translation of the song

Greek poet Riga, who sought to make Greece revolutionary, but

failed." Rigas Velestinlis Fereos Konstandinos (c. 1757-1798) -

Greek revolutionary democrat, poet. Rigas organized a secret

revolutionary society "Eteria", developed the idea of brotherhood and equality of all

Balkan peoples and the idea of creating a democratic state "Greek

republic". In 1797 he was arrested by the Austrian police and extradited to the Turkish

authorities, in 1798 - executed.

Poems written during a breakup. For the first time - "Childe Harold", the first

edition, 1812.

Farewell to Malta. For the first time - Sat. Byron's poems, published by W.

Hone, entitled "Poems on the Circumstances of His Home Life",

London, sixth edition, 1816.

and other poems. Op. An Officer's Wife", published in 1809.

Translation of a Greek song. For the first time - "Childe Harold", first edition,

very popular among young Athenian girls of all segments of the population.

They sing each verse in turn, and they all sing the chorus together. I often

I listened to her at our "xopoi" (choral singing - R.U.) in the winter of 1810/11.

Her tune is sad and beautiful."

To Tirza. For the first time - "Childe Harold", first edition, 1812.

The identity of the woman named Tirza, whom Byron knew, is certain

unknown. In the manuscript the poem is called “On the Death of Tirza”,

I've made up my mind, it's time to free myself. For the first time - "Childe Harold", first edition,

1812. In subsequent editions this poem was published under the title

"To Tirza." See note. to the previous poem.

For more information about the bill, see the introductory article (vol. 1) and approx. to "Speech"

Byron...", present volume.

Lines to a Crying Lady. For the first time - gas. "Morning Chronicle", 1812, 7

Daughter of unfortunate kings... - Princess Charlotte, daughter

Prince Regent, future English King George IV.

For more information about this poem, see the introductory article, vol. 1 present.

Forget you! Forget you! For the first time - T. Medvin. "Conversations with the Lord

Byron", 1824.

The poem is dedicated to Caroline Lamb, wife of William Lamb, politician

figure. Byron's affair with Lady Caroline Lamb dates back to 1812.

To Time. For the first time - "Childe Harold, seventh edition, 1814.

Sonnet to Genevra. For the first time - "Corsair", second edition, 1814.

The poems are supposed to be dedicated to Frances Wedderbury Webster.

Imitation of Portuguese. For the first time - "Childe Harold", seventh edition,

For the Prince Regent to visit the royal crypt. For the first time - Meeting

works in 6 volumes, Paris, 1819 (in English).

Before publication, the poem was distributed in lists in various

I can understand how the Crypt is received, but it is what it is. He's too

gloomy, but, to tell the truth, my satires are not very funny..." To which

Moore replied: “Your lines about the bodies of Charles and Henry are snapped up with

amazing greed..."

Headless Charles - Charles I, English king (1600-1649). During

of the English bourgeois revolution he was deposed and executed (beheaded).

Henry the heartless - Henry VIII.

The Uncrowned King - Prince Regent of England in 1811-1820, from 1820

English King George IV.

Ode to Napoleon Bonaparte, For the first time, incomplete (16 stanzas), - separate

(17-volume edition).

The ode was written immediately after the news of the abdication arrived

Napoleon from the throne.

Son of Rome - Sulla (138-78 BC), Roman commander, consul in 88.

Spaniard, with unprecedented power... - Charles V (1500-1558), Holy Emperor

Roman Empire (1519-1556), Spanish king under the name of Carlos I

(1516-1556). He abdicated the throne and retired to a monastery.

Ancient "Dionysius..." - Dionysius the Younger (395-335 BC), tyrant

Syracuse (Sicily), expelled in 344; fled to Corinth and opened a school there.

The son of Iapetus is Prometheus.

Romance. For the first time - Thomas Moore. "The Life, Letters and Diaries of Lord Byron"

vol. 1, 1830. In the original, the title of the poem is “Stanzas for Music.”

Sympathetic message to Sarah, Countess of Jersey... For the first time - gas.

The poems were published without Byron's knowledge.

Jersey (Jersey), Sarah is a close friend of Byron.

Mee, Anna (1775?-1851) - English artist who painted portraits

famous beauties commissioned by the Prince Regent.

Jewish melodies. For the first time - "Jewish Melodies", text by Byron, music

I. Breghem and I. Nathan. London, 181b, In the same year, a separate publication

(London, Murray).

The cycle "Jewish Melodies" consists of 24 poems, of which "By the Waters

Babylonian..." is given in two versions. This edition includes version 1813

Belshazzar is the son of the last king of Babylonia, Nabonidus. Died in 539 BC

n. e. during the capture of Babylon by the Persians. According to biblical tradition, during a feast in

Belshazzar's palace, a mysterious hand inscribed on the wall the words that the prophet

Daniel interpreted it as a prediction of the death of Belshazzar.

Sennacherib - Assyrian king (705-681 BC).

Romance. For the first time - Sat. "Poems", London, Murray, 1816. In

The original title of the poem is “Stanzas for Music”.

On Napoleon's flight from the island of Elba. For the first time - Thomas Moore. "Life,

letters and diaries of Lord Byron", vol. 1, 1830.

Labedoyer, Charles (1786-1815), count, one of the first to cross with his

regiment on the side of Napoleon during the Hundred Days. After the fall of Napoleon there was

tried and executed.

"The bravest of the brave" - Ney, Michel (1769-1815), Marshal of France.

After the "Hundred Days" he was shot by the Bourbons.

And you, in a snow-white plume... - This means Marshal of France Joachim

Murat (1767-1815), associate of Napoleon, participant in all Napoleonic wars.

Shot by the Bourbons.

subtitle "From French".

Star of the Legion of Honor - French Order of the Legion of Honor,

In order to deflect accusations of disloyalty to the government from newspapers

the poem was given the subtitle “From French” and was prefaced by the following

lines: "We do not need to explain to readers that our point of view is not

completely coincides with these inspired lines. And the author himself told us,

that they rather express the feelings of the one who utters them, rather than him

own."

Sorry. For the first time - a collection of Byron's poems, published by W. Hone under

title "Poems about the circumstances of his home life", the first

edition, London, 1816.

Written during a break with his wife and dedicated to the poet Lady Byron.

"Champion". The newspaper publisher, publishing the poem, wrote that when evaluating

political writings of the poet, it is necessary to keep in mind his attitude towards his

"moral and family duty." The newspaper gave way to the persecution of the poet and at the same time

opened it political character. The poem began to be reprinted by others

Stanzas. For the first time - Sat. "Poems", London, Murray, 1816.

Inscription on the back of the divorce deed in April 1816. For the first time - Collection

works in 6 volumes, London, Murray, 1831.

Stanzas for Augusta. For the first time - Sat. "Poems", London, Murray, 1816.

This last poem, written by a poet in England. Byron handed

R. Usmanova

Girl from Cadiz. Translation by L. May

To the album. Translation by M. Lermontov

Stanzas written while passing by the Amvraki Gulf. Translation by T.

Shchepkina-Kupgrnik

Poems written after crossing the Dardanelles between Sestos and

Abydos. Translation by I. Puzanov

Athenian girl. Translation by L. May

Epitaph for myself. Translation by A. Argo

Song of the Greek rebels. Translation by S. Marshak

Poems written during a breakup. Translation by A. Sergeev

Farewell to Malta. Translation by A. Sergeev

Translation of a Greek song. Translation by V. Ivanov

To Tirza. Translation by V. Levik

I've made up my mind, it's time to free myself. Translation by Ivan Kozlov

O. Chumina

Lines to a Crying Lady. Translation by A. Argo

of the year. Translation by N. Kholodkovsky

Forget you! Forget you! Translation by V. Ivanov

To Time. Translation by T. Gnedich

Sonnet to Genevra. Translation by A. Sergeev

Imitation of Portuguese. Translation by Ivan Kozlov

For the Prince Regent to visit the royal crypt. Translation by S. Marshak

Ode to Napoleon Bonaparte. Translation by V. Bryusov

Romance. (“Say the cherished name, inscribe it...”). Translation by Vyach. Ivanova

Sympathetic message to Sarah, Countess of Jersey, regarding the fact that

the Prince Regent returned her portrait of ms. Mi. Translation by A. Blok

Jewish melodies

She comes in all her glory. Translation by S. Marshak

“Killed in the blaze of beauty!..” Translation by V. Levik

My soul is gloomy. Translation by M. Lermontov

You are crying. Translation by S. Marshak

You have ended your life... Translation by A. Pleshcheev

Belshazzar's vision. Translation by A. Polezhaev

The sun of the sleepless. Translation by S. Marshak

“By the waters of Babylon, weary with sorrow...” Translation by A. Pleshcheev

Defeat of Sennacherib. Translation by A. Tolstoy

Romance. ("What joy will replace the past of light spells..."). Translation by Vyach.

On Napoleon's flight from the island of Elba. Translation by A. Argo

Ode from French. Translation by V. Lugovsky

Star of the Legion of Honor. Translation by V. Ivanov

Farewell to Napoleon. Translation by V. Lugovsky

Sorry. Translation by Ivan Kozlov

Stanzas. ("Not one will argue..."). Translation by N. Ogarev

Inscription on the back of the divorce deed in April 1816. Translation by A. Argo

Stanzas for Augusta. ("When there was terrible darkness all around..."). Translation by A.

Pleshcheeva

WITH English language, the name of Lord George Gordon Byron is associated with English literature. It is perhaps difficult now to imagine what this mysteriously disappointed pilgrim, chosen one and exile, idol and demon rolled into one, meant to his contemporaries. His charm bordered on magnetism, his image was legendary. Under the sign of Byron, literature, music and the art of romanticism developed, beliefs, way of thinking, and behavior were formed. He was, along with Napoleon, the idol of his era, being the most prominent personality among the great poets of England at the beginning of the 19th century.

The English romantic dedicated stanzas to women who played a significant role in his life: Mary Chaworth, Mrs. Smith, whom he calls Florence in the stanzas dedicated to her. He dedicated stanzas to his half-sister Augusta Lee twice. Byron's best creation in this genre is “Stanzas to Augusta” (1816). The dedication to the Beautiful Lady, characteristic of Byron in each case, again reveals the closeness of the genre of stanzas to the sonnet. But the differences are significant: in stanzas the thought is more extended, in stanzas the poet more actively comprehends himself, and not the addressee of the stanzas. The biographies are not so much connected as they are repelled. Byron, in Stanzas to Augusta, repeats what he always said frankly, especially in connection with the divorce proceedings: the only woman who understood him and sympathized with him was his sister. The stanzas dedicated to her are built on the antithesis of another woman, who has become not just a stranger to him, but hostile.