Lord Byron on Women
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βSweet is revengeβespecially to women.β
βShe was his life, The ocean to the river of his thoughts, Which terminated all.β
βSoft as the memory of buried love, Pure as the prayer which childhood wafts above.β
βIn her first passion woman loves her lover, In all the others all she loves is love.β
βI've seen your stormy seas and stormy women, And pity lovers rather more than seamen.β
βA lady with her daughters or her nieces Shine like a guinea and seven-shilling pieces.β
βHeart on her lips, and soul within her eyes, Soft as her clime, and sunny as her skies.β
βThere is a tide in the affairs of women, Which, taken at the flood, leadsβGod knows where.β
βAnd whether coldness, pride, or virtue dignify A woman, so she's good, what does it signify?β
βButβOh! ye lords of ladies intellectual, Inform us truly, have they not hen-peck'd you all?β
βStill I canβt contradict, what so oft has been said, 'Though women are angels, yet wedlock's the devil.'β
βBut she was a soft landscape of mild earth, Where all was harmony, and calm, and quiet, Luxuriant, budding; cheerful without mirth.β
βWhat a strange thing is man! and what a stranger Is woman! What a whirlwind is her head, And what a whirlpool full of depth and danger Is all the rest about her.β
βI love the sex, and sometimes would reverse The tyrant's wish, "that mankind only had One neck, which he with one fell stroke might pierce;" My wish is quite as wide, but not so bad, And much more tender on the whole than fierce; It being (not now, but only while a lad) That womankind had but one rosy mouth, To kiss them all at once, from North to South.β