A monologue in the play simply by Lord Byron
NOTE: This kind of monologue is reprinted coming from Lord Byron: Six Plays. Head of the family Byron. Oregon: Black Container Press, 3 years ago.
JAPHET: En wilds, that look eternal, and thou cave
Which will seemst unfathomable, and ye mountains
Thus varied so terrible in beauty
Below, in your tough majesty of rocks
And toppling forest that twine their root base with stone
In verticle with respect places, the place that the foot
Of man would tremble, can he reach them”yes
Ye look eternal! Yet, a few weeks
Perhaps even several hours, ye will be changed, hire, hurld
Prior to the mass of waters, and yon give
Which appears to lead to a lower universe
Shall have its depths searchd by sweeping wave
And dolphins gambol in the lions living area!
And man”Oh, men! my personal fellow-beings! Who have
Shall weep above the universal grave
Save I? Who will probably be left to weep? My own kinsmen
Alas! what am I better than ye are
Which i must live beyond en? Where shall be
The nice places where I think of Anah
While I got hope? or maybe the more savage haunts
Hard to find less beloved, where We despaird on her behalf?
And can that be! “Shall yon exulting peak
Whose glittering leading is like a distant star
Lie low beneath the boiling of the deep?
No more to achieve the morning sunlight break out
And scatter back the mists in floating folds up
From its great brow? no more to have
Days broad orb drop lurking behind its mind at actually
Leaving that with a overhead of many hues?
No more as the beacon of the world
For angels to tumble on, while the spot
Nearby the stars? And may those phrases no more
Become meant for the, for all things, save for us
And the predestined creeping things reserved
Simply by my sire to Jehovahs bidding? Might
He preserve them, and I not have the strength
To snatch the loveliest of earths daughters from
A trouble which even some snake, with his mate
Shall scape to save his kind to become prolongd
To hiss and sting through some emerging world
Reeking and auf grund from out your slime, in whose ooze
Shall slumber oer the destroy of this, right up until
The salt morass subside in a sphere
Underneath the sun, and become the monument
The sole and undistinguishd sepulchre
Of but quick myriads of all existence? How much
Breath of air will be stilld at once! Almost all beauteous community!
So small, so markd out for devastation, I
Which has a cleft heart look about thee everyday
And night by evening, thy numberd days and nights.
I am unable to save the, cannot save even her
Whose love had made me love thee more, but since
A portion of thy dust particles, I cannot believe
Upon thy coming disaster without a sense
Such as”Oh God!
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