Byron, finding himself famous in March
as London’s public devours Childe Harold
in three days, suddenly discovers arch
of Caroline’s back in his gut, heralds
spring with their affair. By May he curtails
her, so to speak, retreating from deeper
broadsides. She, with battle cry (more a wail)
turns desperate stalker (more a creeper),
invading his rooms disguised as a page.
You can imagine the potshots they took
in Parliament, how the mags must have raged,
the gasps when “Remember Thee!” made the book.
With no remorse, he penned a new lyric.
For her, of course, the conflict proved Pyrrhic.
Roger Armbrust
May 15, 2011
