“’Tis melancholy, and a
fearful sign
Of human frailty, folly, also crime,
That love and marriage rarely can combine,
Although they both are born in the same clime;
Marriage from love, like vinegar from wine—
A sad, sour, sober beverage — by time
Is sharpen’d from its high celestial flavor
Down to a very homely household savour.” — English Romantic poet George Gordon, Lord Byron (1788-1824), Don Juan (1819-1823)
In the most popular month
for weddings, it really does go against the grain to post such a cynical view
of marriage. And these verses were written by a man spectacularly unfit for
this institution—a walking advertisement for scandal who was once famously
described by a future lover, Lady Caroline Lamb, as “mad, bad and dangerous to
know.”
No matter. Whatever
interest might derive from the romantic escapades of Lord Byron, that curiosity would likely fade if these adventures were ranked next to those of
history’s other great lotharios.
There’s a far better,
more lasting reason to be fascinated by this poet: his work. And nothing in the
rest of his career can quite prepare you for his great, rollicking, mock-epic
of the last stage of his short life, Don Juan.
Of human frailty, folly, also crime,
That love and marriage rarely can combine,
Although they both are born in the same clime;
Marriage from love, like vinegar from wine—
A sad, sour, sober beverage — by time
Is sharpen’d from its high celestial flavor
Down to a very homely household savour.” — English Romantic poet George Gordon, Lord Byron (1788-1824), Don Juan (1819-1823)
Erect whatever defenses
you want against Byron's irreverence, but by the time you finish stanzas such as
this, it seems to me impossible not to put this poem down without one’s sides
shaking with laughter.
(For an interesting blog
post on the satirical knock-offs inspired by this poem—which itself was a
satirical knock-off—see this post, centered around the work of early 19th-century editor-publisher William Hone, from nine years ago.)
No comments:
Post a Comment