George Gordon Byron: Beppo ( words) In Beppo the garrulous narrator tells the story of how Beppo (short for Guiseppe) disappears on a sea voyage. Beppo (Byron, versions). From Wikisource For works with similar titles, see Beppo. Versions of Versions of Beppo, a Venetian story include. observations: Byron’s poem is set in Venice at Carnevale: the season of joy and pleasure preceding Lent. Heroine Laura thinks she is widowed.

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But he grew rich, and with his riches grew so Keen the byroon to see his home again, He thought himself in duty bound to do so, And not be always thieving on the main; Lonely he felt, at times, as Robin Crusoe, Byroj so he hired a vessel come from Spain, Bound for Corfu: Posted by Clothes In Books on February 11, To turn, – and return; – the devil take it! Byron sets the scene for his Venetian tale with a piece of very ordinary information.

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What he wants to spend it on is sentiment, on earned sentiment, and “Beppo” contains a beautiful description of the joys of love: Ye happy mixtures of more happy days! Youth lends it joy, and sweetness, vigour, truth, Heart, soul, and all that seems as from above; But, languishing with years, it grows uncouth – One of few things experience don’t improve, Which is, perhaps, the reason why old fellows Are always so ebppo jealous. His wife received, the patriarch re-baptised him He made the church a present, by the way ; He then threw off the garments which disguised him, And borrow’d the Count’s small clothes for a day: Why do you wear it?

Irony, in Byron, is a kind of investment he makes, to build up his capital of sincerity.

But Heaven preserve Old England from such courses! It seems a little inhuman to them, omniscient, pure, etc. Beppo Byron carnevale Mardi Gras Venice. He’s describing the Carnival, and his account includes a series of useful and wonderfully unpoetical tips.

BEPPO by Lord Byron

Laura was blooming still, had made the best Of time, and time return’d the compliment, She look’d extremely well where’er she went; A pretty woman is a welcome guest, And Laura’s brow a frown had rarely bent; Indeed, she shone all smiles, and seem’d to flatter Mankind with her black eyes for looking at her. What an amazing time of year for clothes, I always think.


It is less than two years since his separation, the facts bepop which, among many rumours, had remained in the public eye. I like the taxes, when they’re not too many; I like a seacoal fire, when not too dear; I like a beef-steak, too, as well as any; Have no objection to a pot of beer; I like the weather, when it is not rainy, That is, I like two months of every year, And so God save the Regent, Church, and King!

For my part, now, I ne’er could understand Why naughty women – but Beopo won’t discuss A thing which is a scandal to the land, I only don’t see why it should be thus; And if I were but in a gown and band, Just to entitle me to make a fuss, I’d preach on this till Wilberforce and Romilly Should quote in their next speeches from my homily.

The name of this Aurora I’ll not mention, Although I might, for she was nought to me More than that patent work of God’s invention, A charming woman, whom we like to see; But writing names would merit reprehension, Byton if you like to find out this fair sheAt the next London or Parisian ball You still may mark her cheek out-blooming all.

My pen is at the bottom of a page, Which being finish’d, here the story ends; ‘Tis to be wish’d it had been sooner done, But stories somehow lengthen when begun. And therefore humbly I would recommend “The curious in fish-sauce, “before they cross The sea, to bid their cook, or wife, or friend, Walk or ride to the Strand, and buy in gross Or if set out beforehand, these may send By any means least liable to loss Ketchup, Soy, Chili-vinegar, and Harvey, Or by the Lord!

But several years elapsed since they had met; Some people thought the ship was lost, and some That he had somehow blunder’d into debt, And did not like the thought of steering home; And there were several offer’d any bet, Or that he would, or that he would not come; For most men till by losing render’d sager Will back their own opinions with a wager.

A fourth’s so pale she fears she’s going to faint, A fifth’s look’s vulgar, dowdyish, and suburban, A sixth’s white silk has got a yellow taint, A seventh’s thin muslin surely will be her bane, And lo!

They lock them up, and veil, and guard them daily, They scarcely can behold beppl male relations, So that their moments do not pass so gaily As is supposed the case with northern nations; Confinement, too, must make them look quite palely; And as the Turks abhor long conversations, Their days are either pass’d in doing nothing, Or bathing, nursing, making love, and clothing. There’s a kind beppk chicken and egg argument, in Byron criticism, about the roles of irony and sentiment in his work. Is ‘t true they use their fingers for a fork?


In Beppo the garrulous narrator tells the bhron of how Beppo short for Guiseppe disappears on a sea voyage, how his wife Laura assumes he’s dead and, after a perfunctory period of mourning, takes a dilettante called The Count as a lover.

I had forgot – Pray do’nt you think the weather here is colder? His career trajectory – I’m aware of the strangeness of the comparison – looks a little like Woody Allen’s. But saving this, you byrn put on whate’er You like by way of doublet, cape, or cloak.

Beppo (poem) – Wikipedia

His friends the more for his long absence prized him, Finding he’d wherewithal to make them gay, With dinners, where he oft became the laugh of them, For stories – but I don’t believe the half of them.

He wants to make us suspicious of such writing – to set us up for the kind of writing he’s selling us now. On the other hand, the device allows him to add the kind of “real” texture that has begun to matter to him. For few Italians speak the right Etruscan.

A man of the world

I like the women too forgive my follyFrom the rich peasant cheek of ruddy bronze, And large black eyes that flash on you a volley Of rays that say a thousand things at once, To the high dama’s brow, more melancholy, But clear, and with a wild and liquid glance, Heart on her lips, and soul within her eyes, Soft as her clime, and sunny as her skies.

First published 30 June [https: If this seems remarkably modern “Beppo” came out inthe year in which Keats published “Endymion” and Shelley began work beopo Prometheus Unboundthat’s because it is, though I wonder how many modern poets can suggest, in their poetry, so generous, natural, humorous and serious a response to modern life as Byron shows here.

But they were young: