by John Keats (1795 - 1821)

Byron! how sweetly sad thy melody!
Language: English 
Byron! how sweetly sad thy melody! 
Attuning still the soul to tenderness, 
As if soft Pity, with unusual stress, 
Had touch'd her plaintive lute, and thou, being by, 
Hadst caught the tones, nor suffer'd them to die. 
O'ershadowing sorrow doth not make thee less 
Delightful: thou thy griefs dost dress 
With a bright halo, shining beamily, 
As when a cloud the golden moon doth veil, 
Its sides are ting'd with a resplendent glow, 
Through the dark robe oft amber rays prevail, 
And like fair veins in sable marble flow; 
Still warble, dying swan! still tell the tale, 
The enchanting tale, the tale of pleasing woe. 

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Authorship

Musical settings (art songs, Lieder, mélodies, (etc.), choral pieces, and other vocal works set to this text), listed by composer (not necessarily exhaustive)


Researcher for this text: Emily Ezust [Administrator]

This text was added to the website: 2009-02-15
Line count: 14
Word count: 105