As a youth with my first motorcar many places came available to me. On one such venture I landed in the county of Nottingham shire .
The sun was high the pathway wide and there before me was the ruins of a great house. The poet Byron had lived here and there against the treeline on the main lawns stood the marble pot on top of a stone column.
In this pot ,urn more of it , is the dust of the young Byrons best friend .
The midday sun was hot and the ruins looked almost haunting as a mirage before me. I walked freely over gravel path to view the scripted poem on the face side to lawn. A great white panel inserted in cold stone tell the story of Botswain Lord Byrons only known real friend . A Newfoundland dog .
I stood reading the greatness of his words .The home he knew behind it in mostly ruins like Lord Byrons life in fact. On coming to the last sentence I suddenly felt the pain of the writer; as Byron loved a Newfoundland dog with all his heart his only close friend in life.
A sadness fell over me as now I knew his mind some what better.” Mad bad and Dangerous to know “.The words of Lady Caroline Lamb .A very married woman who desired Byron so much she made an absolute fool of both her self and her poor husband as Byron had no feelings for her but took delight in having sex with her .
He was not a man of graces he was a mind of words and sentence. She presented herself and what could he do but oblige her. He was a little mad Im sure as mad Sir John Byron his own father was off his trolley with drink. .
Byron not as obvious but it was there deep seated inside him no doubt. A trace of madness in some of his ways showed through .
He died and wanted in will to be buried in Westminster Abbey but he had managed to upset so many in power that wish was denied .
He was placed in rest on top of his mothers coffin in the crypt of Hucknell Parish Church near Nottingham city. Today it stands with photos of the inside vault on its walls .Not Byrons body as one hoped would make the real event. The photo was taken when the tomb was opened in 1960s . It show a coffin made of lead crushing the one below. When it was all rescued and put safe Byron was observed to be as he had died just that moment. Photos taken by Council records dept but not displayed in public in this church at all.
The Greeks embalmed Lord Byron .He had died on his ship at anchor in the Greek bay , of a chill after fighting to assist the Greek army in war. The Greeks loved him for his valour and perhaps his love of two way sex appealed.
His poems tells of a lost man a romantic to the end . His looks excited many a female and male as Byron made no difference between sexes he just took full advantage of both.
Is he to be missed? No not really; we would not have known him as a good man even today if he was with us . Then standing reading here the story of his hound one sees a glint of real human feeling towards Gods creatures .
I am related to Lord Byron I fear , through my first cousins the Gordon family.Lord Byron name was George Gordon .I was very close in youth to Elaine Gordon who was my best of friends .She had it that Byron was a waster as he lost in gamble his Newstead Abbey family home then set fire to it .
She had a point indeed . Still that line of his.” So we will go no more a roving so late unto the night . The sword outwears the sheaf as they soul wears out the breast so we go no more a roving and the heart itself must rest ” Cut it short but the good bits when first read as a child gave me goose pimples down the neck. Romantic his words but sick his mind not for study really but worth a mention
Yours Sir Kevin hope all is well with you all. Read my take on Byrons pal Shelley in another blog I wrote some time since .
Copyright Kevin James Parr Bt 2021 0ct