拜伦诗如其人，而人亦如其诗。他天生残废，却骄傲自负，个性叛逆，以诗人，战士，独立运动领导人著称于世。鲁迅先生早年作《摩罗诗力说》：“新声之别，不可究详；至力足以振人，且语之较有深趣者，实莫如摩罗诗派。……凡立意在反抗，指归在动作，而为世所不甚愉悦者悉入之，为传其言行思惟，流别影响，始宗主裴伦，终以摩迦（匈牙利）文士。”文中裴伦，即拜伦。其诗《海盗》，旨趣与风格特异，录之如下：
'O'ER the glad waters of the dark blue sea,
Our thoughts as boundless, and our soul's as free
Far as the breeze can bear, the billows foam,
Survey our empire, and behold our home!
These are our realms, no limits to their sway-
Our flag the sceptre all who meet obey.
Ours the wild life in tumult still to range
From toil to rest, and joy in every change.
Oh, who can tell? not thou, luxurious slave!
Whose soul would sicken o'er the heaving wave;
Not thou, vain lord of wantonness and ease!
whom slumber soothes not - pleasure cannot please -
Oh, who can tell, save he whose heart hath tried,
And danced in triumph o'er the waters wide,
The exulting sense - the pulse's maddening play,
That thrills the wanderer of that trackless way?
That for itself can woo the approaching fight,
And turn what some deem danger to delight;
That seeks what cravens shun with more than zeal,
And where the feebler faint can only feel -
Feel - to the rising bosom's inmost core,
Its hope awaken and Its spirit soar?
No dread of death if with us die our foes -
Save that it seems even duller than repose:
Come when it will - we snatch the life of life - -
When lost - what recks it but disease or strife?
Let him who crawls enamour'd of decay,
Cling to his couch, and sicken years away:
Heave his thick breath, and shake his palsied head;
Ours - the fresh turf; and not the feverish bed.
While gasp by gasp he falters forth his soul,
Ours with one pang - one bound - escapes control.
His corse may boast its urn and narrow cave,
And they who loath'd his life may gild his grave:
Ours are the tears, though few, sincerely shed,
When Ocean shrouds and sepulchres our dead.
For us, even banquets fond regret supply
In the red cup that crowns our memory;
And the brief epitaph in danger's day,
When those who win at length divide the prey,
And cry, Remembrance saddening o'er each brow,
How had the brave who fell exulted now!------
翻译：
“
在暗蓝色的海上，海水在欢快地飞溅，
我们的心如此自由，思绪辽远无边。
凡长风吹拂之所、凡海波翻卷之处，不可谓之不广。
量一量我们的版图，看一看我们的家邦！
这全是我们的帝国，权力及于一切，
我们的旗帜就是王杖，所遇莫敢不从。
我们野性的生涯，在喧嚣中延伸，
从劳作到休息，尽皆欢乐之时辰。
这美境谁能体会？绝非汝娇养之奴辈！（thou,古英语之“你”。故改译为汝似更贴切）
汝之灵魂对着汹涌的波浪就会退缩。
更非汝等淫靡安逸虚荣之贵族！
睡眠不能抚慰汝，欢乐不能感染汝。
谁知道那乐趣，除非他的心灵受过创痛的洗礼，
而又在广阔的海洋上骄傲地翱翔过，
那狂喜之感——那脉搏畅快的跳动，
这只有绝境求生的漂泊者才能体会。
为这快乐，我们迎向战斗；
为这快乐，我们享受着冒险。
凡是懦夫躲避的，我们反热烈追寻，
那使衰弱的人晕绝的，我们反而感到——
感到在我们博大胸怀的最深处
希望在苏醒，精灵在翱翔。
我们不畏死亡——宁愿与敌人战死一处，
尽管，死亡甚至比休息更加无趣。
来吧，听天由命，我们攫取了生中之生，
如果倒下——谁在乎是死于刀剑还是疾病？
让那些匍匐爬行之辈去跟“衰老”倾心缠绵；
让他们粘连病榻，苦度年岁；
让他们摇着麻痹的头颅，艰难呼吸。
我们不要病床，宁勿是清新的草地。
让他们苟延残喘吧！
我们只是短短一痛，然后一跃而超出肉体束缚。
让他们的尸首去炫耀骨灰坛和狭窄的墓穴，
那憎恨他的人会给他的墓座镶金。
而当大海拥抱，埋葬我们的身躯，
伙伴们会洒下热泪，虽然不多，但弥足珍贵。
之后，即便是欢宴也会带来深心的痛惜，
在红色的酒杯中旋起我们的记忆。
啊，危难的岁月最终化作简短的墓志铭，
当胜利的伙伴在狂喜中平分宝藏，
对我们的回忆却让他们神色悲伤，紧锁双眉。
此刻，倒下的勇士是怎样的欢欣!”
---略改编自佚名之译文
当然了，海盗生涯也许如同Bayron描述的那样不同寻常人生，充满刺激，但亦非好莱坞电影《加勒比海盗》系列那样浪漫迷人。对海盗来说，死亡和疾病如影随行，他们短暂生涯的每一天，每一个时辰都可能死于非命，葬身海底。
当然了，我们只是抒抒情，纵然心底里想做海盗，也还是不要说出来。