This 1995 Penguin edition is a real bargain. There is substantial critical apparatus, by leading scholars Susan J Wolfson (who is as good on Byron as she is on Keats) and Peter J Manning, always interesting and illuminating. The selections to my taste are perfectly judged - quite important in a ’Selected Poems’ :). (There is nothing from 'Don Juan'. I think this is defensible because it is notoriously hard to anthologise and Penguin do also offer a similarly bargain priced edition.) And the poems are presented pretty much as they were published. So in particular it is fascinating to see the volume punctuated by the Cantos of ‘Childe Harold's Pilgrimage’. It’s really difficult to imagine this being better done. ( )

I only read this because of the sexy cover.

Actually, that is half true.

Lord Byron is a pretty well known poet. Most people have heard his name and kind of know about his colorful life. He was a lover of women (and men) and animals (not sexually LOL). He was involved in politics and was a world traveler. He was in very good shape and known for his aesthetics. He was acquaintances with several other famous authors at the time most famously Percy Bysshe Shelley. His daughter, Ada Lovelace, even became an important figure in computer science, although she was forbidden to see him during her lifetime. It seems though, not many have read his poetry.

I remember mentioning reading him before and I think I turned some people off. Lord Byron I feel like has a "bad boy" reputation. You can kind of see why with the women he slept with and one of his wives left him, for a silly reason if you ask me. During his time, poets weren't that well respected. Hence why Ada's mother left him and told Ada to become a scientist instead. Fast forward today and I can kind of see this hasn't changed much, but it is better. My point is, Byron, I feel, kind of gets misinterpreted these days.

I loved his poetry and his writing. I can't really tell you which poem of his I liked best, but there are many lines I ended up loving. I like how he was into aesthetics, not only with his own body image, but with his words and descriptions as well. I kind of wish I was taught more of his works in college. I possibly read one poem of his in college, but if I did I have no memory of reading him before except that "She walks in beauty" poem that I read in the Graphic Cannon series.

As much as I loved Byron, there is a little annoyance I had with him. One of them is footnotes. I liked that Penguin included his own footnotes and preferences and whatnot, but talk about an early David Foster Wallace. Some of the footnotes are a page length themselves. Honestly, I skipped some of them because they didn't help me understand the poems. Also, not really a complaint, but Byron sure knows howto write some long poems. These aren't read before bed poems. With some, you read one poem for the day and need a break before you start the next. There are a few plays in this as well. I think it might be best to save Don Juan for another day.

Also, I still am fascinated with the story of Byron and his pet bear he brought to college. I feel like that needs to be a children's book. Actually, I'd love to find a well written biography of Byron. Damn his family for burning his memoirs! ( )

Lindo.
Lord Byron foi uma paixão da minha adolescência, e ainda não consigo ler um verso dele sem sentir aquela embriaguez que as melhores poesias trazem. ( )

A marvellous tome. Substantial (if not comprehensive), there's enough of Byron's work here to satisfy almost any taste. From scurrilous and subversive to majestic and epic, Byron's poetry is at times arrogant - however this arrogance is based on a very real talent. Delightful. ( )

It seems appropriate to briefly meditate upon the poetry of Lord Byron on any date including this, his birth date. In particular I turn to his poem 'On this Day I complete my Thirty-Sixth Year'. This poem appeals to me neither for the greatness of its lines nor the acuity of its poetic strains, but for the beauty and sadness of its meditative thought. The opening stanza, for example:
"'Tis time this heart should be unmoved,
Since others it hath ceased to move:
Yet, though I cannot be beloved,
Still let me love!"
Byron's passion for his young Greek page, however unrequited, reminds me of similar feelings shared by so many of us in the ensuing years. He goes on to recount the fear of aging and the pain of his longing among other feelings. I wonder if he would have traded a few more years of such feelings for the few months that remained in his brief life? ( )