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George Gordon Byron
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First lines
George Gordon Byron
(1788–1824)
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First lines
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A
A spirit pass’d before me: I beheld
Adieu, adieu! my native shore
Ah!- What should follow slips from my reflection
As o’er the cold sepulchral stone
Away, away, ye notes of woe!
B
Bob Southey! You ’re a poet- Poet-laureate
Bright be the place of thy soul!
C
Chill and mirk is the nightly blast
Come, blue-eyed maid of heaven!—but thou, alas
F
Fame, wisdom, love, and power were mine
Fare thee well! and if for ever
Farewell! If ever fondest prayer
Francisca walks in the shadow of night
From the last hill that looks on thy once holy dome
H
Hail, Muse! et cetera.- We left Juan sleeping
I
I now mean to be serious;- it is time
I saw thee weep — the big bright tear
I speak not, I trace not, I breathe not thy name
I stood in Venice, on the Bridge of Sighs
I want a hero: an uncommon want
I would I were a careless child
If from great nature’s or our own abyss
If that high world, which lies beyond
In the valley of the waters we wept o’er the day
Is thy face like thy mother’s, my fair child!
It is known, at least it should be, that throughout
It is the hour when from the boughs
[It Is the Hour]
It is the hour when from the boughs
[Parisina]
L
Long years!—It tries the thrilling frame to bear
M
Montgomery! true, the common lot
My soul is dark — Oh! quickly string
N
Not in those climes where I have late been straying
Nothing so difficult as a beginning
O
O Love! O Glory! what are ye who fly
Of all the barbarous middle ages, that
Oh blood and thunder! and oh blood and wounds!
Oh, Mariamne! now for thee
Oh never talk again to me
Oh! snatch’d away in beauty’s bloom
Oh, thou, in Hellas deemed of heavenly birth
Oh! weep for those that wept by Babel’s stream
Oh, Wellington! (or ’Villainton’- for Fame
Oh ye! who teach the ingenuous youth of nations
On Jordan’s banks the Arab’s camels stray
Our life is twofold: Sleep hath its own world
S
Saint Peter sat by the celestial gate
She walks in beauty like the night
Since our Country, our God — Oh, my Sire!
Sun of the sleepless! melancholy star!
T
The antique Persians taught three useful things
The Assyrian came down like the wolf on the fold
The chain I gave was fair to view
The harp the monarch minstrel swept
The isles of Greece!
The King was on his throne
The kiss, dear maid! thy lip has left
The lamp must be replenish’d, but even then
The wild gazelle on Judah’s hills
The world is full of orphans: firstly, those
There is a tide in the affairs of men
There’s not a joy the world can give like that it takes away
They say that Hope is happiness
Those flaxen locks, those eyes of blue
Thou whose spell can raise the dead
Though the day of my destiny’s over
Through cloudless skies, in silvery sheen
Thy days are done, thy fame begun
Tis done—but yesterday a King!
W
Warriors and chiefs! should the shaft or the sword
We sat down and wept by the waters
Were my bosom as false as thou deem’st it to be
What is the hour?
When all around grew drear and dark
When amatory poets sing their loves
When Bishop Berkeley said ’there was no matter
When coldness wraps this suffering clay
When I rov’d a young Highlander o’er the dark heath
When Newton saw an apple fall, he found