Categories > Original > Poetry0 Reviews
A long lost epic poem origionally by Lord Byron in 1813. Beautifully composed.
But first on earth, as Vampyre sent,
Thy corpse shall from its tomb be rent;
Then ghastly haunt thy native place,
And Suck the blood of all thy race;
There from thy daughter, sister, wife,
At midnight drain the stream of life;
Yet loathe the banquet, which perforce
Must feed thy livid living corpse,
Thy victims, ere they yet expire,
Shall know the demon for their sire;
As cursing thee, thou cursing them,
Thy flowers are withered on the stem.
But one that for thy crime must fall,
The youngest, best beloved of all,
Shall bless thee with a father's name--
That word shall wrap thy heart in flame!
Yet thou must end thy task and mark
Her cheek's last tinge--her eye's last spark
And the last glassy glance must view
Which freezes o'er its lifeless blue;
Then with unhallowed hand shall tear
The tresses of her yellow hair,
Of which, in life a lock when shorn
Affection's fondest pledge was worn-
But now is borne away by thee
Memorial to thine agony!
Yet with thine own best blood thall drip
Thy gnashing tooth, and haggard lip;
Then stalking to thy sullen grave
Go-and with Ghouls and Afrits rave,
Till these on horror shrink away
From spectre more accursed than they.
((Gosh I love this one.))