Стихи Байрона о женщине

Лорд Байрон, поэт страсти и бунтарства, в своих стихах часто обращался к образу женщины, видя в ней то источник вдохновения и возвышенной любви, то воплощение роковой красоты и опасного соблазна. Его героини – это не просто объекты восхищения, но сложные, противоречивые личности, способные как на великое самопожертвование, так и на жестокую месть. Байронские женщины – это мятежные души, часто несчастные в браке или отвергнутые обществом, но всегда гордые и независимые. Эта подборка демонстрирует многогранность женских образов в лирике Байрона, от нежных признаний до трагических повествований.

She walks in beauty, like the night
Of cloudless climes and starry light;
All that which heaven dare to send
Here on earth, in her is blend.
Her face, her voice, her form divine,
A mind at peace with all things combine.
    

Though passion’s flame may burn so bright,
And shadows dance in pale moonlight,
A deeper love, a calmer grace,
I find reflected in your face.
No fleeting joy, no wild desire,
But steadfast truth, a holy fire.
    

Isabella, a name of grace,
Lost in this dark and haunted place.
Her beauty, like a fading dream,
A whispered echo by the stream.
A captive heart, a mournful sigh,
Beneath a cold and watchful eye.
    

A mother’s love, a tender care,
A memory beyond compare.
Though years may pass and sorrows grow,
Her gentle spirit still shall glow.
A fleeting glimpse, a whispered name,
A lingering echo of her fame.
    

Gulnare, with eyes of burning coal,
A spirit fierce, beyond control.
She ruled the seraglio’s dark domain,
And scorned the weakness of a chain.
A queen in power, a slave in name,
Consumed by passion’s hidden flame.
    

Augusta, fair, beyond compare,
A vision bright, a soul so rare.
Though fate may keep us far apart,
Your image lingers in my heart.
A distant star, a guiding light,
Illuminating darkest night.
    

She promised solace, peace, and rest,
A haven for my troubled breast.
But false the vow, and vain the plea,
For love’s betrayal wounded me.
A poet’s heart, consumed by pain,
A shattered dream, a hopeless strain.
    

You sing of passion, wild and free,
Of hearts enslaved by destiny.
But know you not a woman’s might,
To choose her path and claim her right?
I scorn your pity, your disdain,
And rise above your gilded chain.
    

A wildness in her gaze I see,
A hint of untamed liberty.
She walks a path unknown to men,
A spirit proud, beyond their ken.
Her heart a fortress, strong and bold,
A story waiting to unfold.
    

No tear she sheds, no word of woe,
But silent sorrow starts to grow.
A hidden pain, a secret grief,
That finds in solitude relief.
Her beauty veiled in somber hue,
A fragile bloom, drenched in the dew.
    

I masked my longing, hid my shame,
And played the part of noble dame.
But 'neath the surface, passions burned,
A restless heart that ever yearned.
For freedom's touch, for love's embrace,
To break the bonds of time and place.
    

Her form is lost in fading light,
A portrait drawn in shades of night.
A mystery veiled, a haunting grace,
A fleeting glimpse of time and space.
Her eyes, like stars, a distant gleam,
Reflecting back a forgotten dream.
    

She chose to follow where he led,
A rebel's bride, with fearless tread.
Through storm and strife, her spirit soared,
A loyal heart, forever adored.
She shared his fate, his burning fire,
And stood with him in dark desire.
    

A string of beads, a whispered prayer,
A token lost, beyond repair.
A symbol of a faith betrayed,
A heart by sorrow overlaid.
She seeks in vain for solace true,
A memory fading from her view.
    

Though broken-hearted, cast aside,
She faced the world with noble pride.
No plea for mercy, no tearful plea,
But final, fierce defiance, free.
A spirit strong, a will to bend,
Until life's journey finds its end.