The gods crowned her [Famous Book]

When she set foot on the land of the family's mother country, Ivy was taken aback by the desolation and decline in front of her eyes.

This is a nation known for its warmth and friendliness, but it is clear that the people here are unhappy, even miserable.

Due to British rule, the people here are forbidden to speak the Irish language passed down from generation to generation by their grandparents, and lose the qualification to be close to their mother tongue. Death of a dog", so frenzied that even the natives who immigrated to Ireland are also discriminated against.

When Cromwell led troops to conquer Ireland, the population of 150 million decreased by 41 due to brutal wars, massacres, famine and immigration. The British Parliament confiscated more than half of the land here, leaving only the whole country for the local Catholics. 5.00% of.

Native Irish residents could not vote, buy land, or own horses worth more than £5, and the British were cornered by depriving the island of resources to support their own economy and army.

Even if they tried to resist, they were quickly suppressed, because the locals simply did not have enough financial resources and food, and a head-on confrontation with the powerful British colonial government was tantamount to hitting a stone with a pebble.

What's more unfortunate is that Ivy found that her country was suffering from a famine. The local residents could only rely on potatoes to feed themselves, but they had to hand over the hard-earned food to their British landlords. Land as a tenant.

The British Parliament is indeed a group of looters working together.They even asked Ireland to bear the British military expenditures to fight against the French emperor. How could an island country afford to pay this huge debt? [-] pounds was no different from an astronomical figure for them.

Ivy feels that if this continues, the motherland, which is already in dire straits, is about to end.

Along the way, the farmers in the crop fields all looked yellow and thin, but they still had to work hard, otherwise they would be punished and whipped by the landlord.

"Be patient, wait for me." She said silently in her heart, walked across the Liffey River, and on the other side came the Dublin District 2 with many bars.

The Norman invasion in the 12th century brought the pub culture to Ireland. People here regard the pub as another home. Weddings and funerals will be held in the pub. Some beer brewing rooms are even used as morgues because of its low temperature. , and no one feels shy and uncomfortable because of this.

However, today's District 2 is full of collapse and disorder. There are many dilapidated buildings that can't be seen at a glance, leaning crookedly against the corners, and decadence and chaos fill the entire line of sight.

To make matters worse, the endless rain fell overhead, dyeing the surrounding area black and blue.

She had to put on the huge hood, and walked along the dilapidated street into the cramped alley, and finally saw the sign of "Blize's head" beside a pile of messy garbage. The law requires the owner of the tavern to use his surname as the name of the bar.

But this one belongs to a clean stream, not only unconventional, but also a bit of folk tales.

Half-yellow and half-white moldy newspapers were pasted on the shattered blurry glass, through which Ivy could see a group of people indistinctly, and there were noisy voices floating out of it, occasionally mixed with some unbearable curses.

"Hey, British lady." Seeing a beautiful woman in a cloak, the bald man buried in the wine table couldn't help showing a meaningful sneer. Judging from her exquisite clothes, she shouldn't belong to a local girl.

Irish women at this time were either disheveled and busy working to gain a chance of survival, or they were at home with a large number of children and had no money or time to take care of themselves.

A table of men who were playing cards raised their heads in unison when they heard the sound, and after looking at each other, they looked at Ivy with unanimous hostility.

Ivy pretended not to see their enmity, looked around for a few seconds, and saw the sparks burning in the fireplace, the drowsy orange light on the ceiling, the half-high wine bottles piled up by the window, moldy dust Mixed with the smell of de-ale, he couldn't wait to drill into his nose.

The decorations on the walls are old and dilapidated. At first glance, they are products of the Middle Ages, such as antelope wood carvings and ivory miniature carvings of the goddess Danu. These are indeed valuable items. This "Blaze Head" has obviously had glory in the past Unfortunately, it was all destroyed by the British.

"I'd like a pint of whiskey," she said, after looking it over.

The eyes of the men suddenly became surprised.

"Okay..." Maybe it was doubt, or maybe it was a joke about being overwhelmed, the bald-haired man took a solid wooden cup, and simply poured half of the cup of yellowish liquid.

"Hey, go on." Without waiting for the guest to answer, he quickly pushed the wooden cup down the slope of the bar. Everyone thought that this newcomer must not be able to catch it. Just when they were about to grin and laugh, they found that she was unexpectedly He held the cup firmly in his hand, then raised his head and drank it down.

"Your distilled barley is not clean enough." Putting the wooden cup back on the table, Ivy shook her head and gave a dissatisfied comment, "Just practice brewing more, good sir."

The bald-haired man took a sip and snorted: "Stop talking nonsense. Ten pounds."

"I'm here to find someone, and I will pay you later."

"I don't have a gentleman here." The man lit a cigar and roughly puffed out the smoke ring, which smelled like fish by the sea.

The smell was pungent and unpleasant, and Ivy suddenly missed the man who had good taste in smoking cigars.

"I'm looking for a man with curly chestnut hair," she said.

The man sneered: "Except for me, six out of ten of us here have sorrel curly hair, just like a pug."

Ivy: "He's crippled."

"Cripple?" He pouted, propped himself up and looked around, "How can I let this go without a little injury on my foot."

"He's still a handsome man."

Hearing this, he raised the cigar in his hand, took two puffs of smoke as if no one else was there, and then said with a half-smile: "This is not a place for British girls to talk about love. It's a fool to judge someone by their appearance."

Ivy didn't respond to his sarcasm.

Then the next second, the tavern fell silent.

No one spoke, and they all looked in one direction at the same time, looked at the beautiful woman in the cloak, and threw a handful of diamonds on the table calmly.

What was thrown was not gold coins, nor pounds, but genuine diamonds.

The shiny objects are dazzling, and they look out of place in the dim candlelight, dazzling the eyes of everyone present.

"George, a woman is looking for you." After being stunned, the bald boss finally turned his head and shouted upstairs. After a while, a man lazily replied, "Wait a minute."

The tone of voice was drunk after a hangover, a little weak and tired, accompanied by the slight trembling of the wooden stairs, the man finally walked down slowly under Ivy's eyes.

His skin is as fair as jade, and he wears an ordinary overcoat, but it looks like a medieval noble dress on him.

After seeing Ivy's face clearly, the young man's clear brown eyes flickered, and then he walked over politely: "Hello, Miss, what can you do with me?"

"Hello, Mr. Byron." Ivy saluted him. In this era, it was the dream of many aristocratic girls in England to see this famous poet in person.What's more, his admirers in later generations can only imagine his current beauty from the portraits.

Of course, Ivy was not disappointed, he was indeed one of the most handsome men she had ever seen since she came to this world.

The young poet clearly did not appreciate the complicated red tape.But he still bent down to return the salute without losing the gentleman's etiquette.

Then he found the treasure on the table.

When he turned to her again, his eyes were filled with disbelief, and he guessed that the beautiful woman in front of him might be a wealthy heiress.

"May I ask the lady's name?" he asked.

"My name is Ivy, and my last name is Wellesley."

Amidst the astonishment that hadn't recovered from the windfall, she spoke slowly.

The pupils of the men who were already surprised widened again.

To the Irish, the surname of this family is tantamount to thunder, and it is the pride of their lifelong support.

The elder brother of the beautiful lady in front of him is His Excellency the Duke who dared to be an enemy of Napoleon.

And she herself has unparalleled wealth, but somehow she came to this place that resembles a slum in person.

"It's a great honor for me to hear about the Duchess' reputation for a long time." Surprise flashed in Byron's eyes, and he sat down on the vacant seat, leaning his tall body against the cracked back of the chair, "I just don't know, I can help What are you up to?"

"I need your help, Mr. Byron." Ivy smiled and looked at his pale but handsome face, "You will give me extraordinary strength."

"Ah, my dear princess, I'm nothing but a poor poet."

"Your poetry is exactly what I need. Without your masterpiece, what I do will be very difficult."

"Oh?" He raised his eyebrows, and the aloofness in his eyes was clearly engraved in the bottom of her pupils, "I didn't know that there was still a moment when I was so valued. Thanks to Miss's favor, I would be embarrassed to refuse."

"Whoever wins with me will be rewarded much more than these diamonds." She suddenly bent down, approaching his earlobe, and whispered in a low voice, but the words were clear, "I already know everything about you, and no one knows it better than me." Understand how short of money you are now."

Poets often have hobbies that are different from ordinary people. Byron is a rare bisexual. He is easy to fall in love with a woman at first sight, and he will also have an affection for beautiful people of the same gender beyond friendship.

A few years before he had fallen in love with a young man in London named John Edlerston, and he had become famous for it, and had invested a great deal of money in his lover's maintenance.

Although they had to break up because they were on the verge of bankruptcy, they have been keen on traveling abroad for these years, and their pockets have long been shy.

Sure enough, he showed a smile, with self-deprecating meaning, and was about to speak, but was interrupted by a sudden sound from outside the door.

"The cop is here, run!" A panicked young man broke into the house in an instant, and anxiously reported the police raid to everyone in the house.

"Damn it, you damn British guy." The bald-haired boss cursed bitterly, and then called the brothers to jump up, put on their guns and hurried outside.

In a few seconds, the house was completely cleared, and there were only two people left.

The author has something to say:

Byron is indeed bisexual, but he is also miserable.Although it is easy to be tempted, the woman he liked either married someone else or died. It seems that only poetry will not betray him.