All audio files can be found on our catalog page: https://librivox.org/lines-on-hearing-that-lady-byron-was-ill-by-george-gordon-lord-byron/
Each fortnight a poem is chosen to be recorded by as many LibriVox volunteers as possible!Here is a bitterly sarcastic poem wherein a jilted Lord Byron spits out his distain for his estranged wife, Lady Byron, laying a curse upon her, accusing her of being a "moral Clytemnestra" (wife of Agamemnon, who conspired with her lover Aegisthus to murder her husband). The Byrons were only together 2 years before she fled to the safety of her parents' estate with their infant daughter and refused to see him henceforth, due to his debauchery, cruelty, and profligate spending of her money. Lord Byron was run out of Parlaiment and fled England for his scandalous behavior, and especially for having had an incestuous affair with his half-sister (with whom he had another daughter). But as he was a Lord, (and as he was a typical man of the period who considered himself his wife's Lord to do with as he pleased), he always blamed Lady Byron's high morals, unwillingness to speak up for him in public (he considered her silence treason), and what he perceived as her "unforgiveness" for his downfall. He often waged war with her in public through his poetry. Lord Byron left such a large body of letters, essays and "worlds' best" poetry, some don't realize he died at age 36. (Summary by Michele Fry)
This fortnight's poem can be found here (page 480)
Set your recording software to:
Channels: 1 (Mono)
Bit Rate: 128 kbps
Sample Rate: 44100 kHz
Have questions on "how"?
Check LV's Recording Notes thread before recording. If this is your first recording, you'll also find this Newbie Guide to Recording useful.
Begin your reading with the abbreviated LibriVox disclaimer:
No more than 0.5 to 1 second of silence at the beginning of the recording!
Then read the poem:Lines, On Hearing That Lady Byron Was Ill by George Gordon, Lord Byron, read for LibriVox.org by [your name].
[Add, if you wish, date, your location, and/or your personal url.]
And thou wert sad—yet I was not with thee!
And thou wert sick, and yet I was not near;
Methought that joy and health alone could be
Where I was not—and pain and sorrow here.
And is it thus?—it is as I foretold,
And shall be more so; for the mind recoils
Upon itself, and the wrecked heart lies cold,
While heaviness collects the shattered spoils.
It is not in the storm nor in the strife
We feel benumbed, and wish to be no more,
But in the after-silence on the shore,
When all is lost, except a little life.
I am too well avenged!—but 'twas my right;
Whate'er my sins might be, thou wert not sent
To be the Nemesis who should requite—
Nor did heaven choose so near an instrument.
Mercy is for the merciful!—if thou
Hast been of such, 'twill be accorded now.
Thy nights are banished from the realms of sleep!—
Yes! they may flatter thee, but thou shalt feel
A hollow agony which will not heal,
For thou art pillowed on a curse too deep;
Thou hast sown in my sorrow, and must reap
The bitter harvest in a woe as real!
I have had many foes, but none like thee;
For 'gainst the rest myself I could defend,
And be avenged, or turn them into friend;
But thou in safe implacability
Hadst nought to dread—in thy own weakness shielded,
And in my love which hath but too much yielded,
And spared, for thy sake, some I should not spare—
And thus upon the world—trust in thy truth—
And the wild fame of my ungoverned youth—
On things that were not, and on things that are—
Even upon such a basis hast thou built
A monument whose cement hath been guilt!
The moral Clytemnestra of thy lord,
And hewed down, with an unsuspected sword,
Fame, peace, and hope—and all the better life
Which, but for this cold treason of thy heart,
Might still have risen from out the grave of strife,
And found a nobler duty than to part.
But of thy virtues didst thou make a vice,
Trafficking with them in a purpose cold,
For present anger, and for future gold—
And buying other's grief at any price.
And thus once entered into crooked ways,
The early truth, which was thy proper praise,
Did not still walk beside thee—but at times,
And with a breast unknowing its own crimes,
Deceit, averments incompatible,
Equivocations, and the thoughts which dwell
In Janus-spirits—the significant eye
Which learns to lie with silence—the pretext
Of Prudence, with advantages annexed—
The acquiescence in all things which tend,
No matter how, to the desired end—
All found a place in thy philosophy.
The means were worthy, and the end is won—
I would not do by thee as thou hast done!
At the end of your reading, leave a space and then say:
Please leave 5 seconds of silence at the end of your recording.End of poem. This recording is in the public domain.
Save your recording as an mp3 file using the following filename and ID3 tag format:
File name - all in lowercase: linesonhearingthatladybyronwasill_byron_your initials_128kb.mp3
ID3 tags (Version 2):
Artist Name: George Gordon, Lord Byron
Track Title: Lines, On Hearing That Lady Byron Was Ill - Read by YOUR INITIALS (e.g. Lines, On Hearing That Lady Byron Was Ill - Read by KLH)
Album Title: LibriVox Fortnightly Poetry
Comments: (optional) Recorded by [your name]
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