George Gordon Byron Poems

To Ianthe:

Not in those climes where I have late been straying,
Though Beauty long hath there been matchless deem'd;
...

Near this spot
Are deposited the Remains
Of one
Who possessed Beauty
...

'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!
...

I

Our life is twofold; Sleep hath its own world,
A boundary between the things misnamed
...

I.
Come, blue-eyed maid of heaven!-but thou, alas!
Didst never yet one mortal song inspire-
Goddess of Wisdom! here thy temple was
...

Titan! to whose immortal eyes
The sufferings of mortality,
Seen in their sad reality,
Were not as things that gods despise;
...

Thy days are done, thy fame begun;
Thy country's strains record
The triumphs of her chosen Son,
The slaughter of his sword!
...

I

Saint Peter sat by the celestial gate:
His keys were rusty, and the lock was dull,
...

Away, away, ye notes of woe!
Be silent, thou once soothing strain,
Or I must flee from hence--for, oh!
I dare not trust those sounds again.
...

I
When Bishop Berkeley said "there was no matter,"
And proved it--'twas no matter what he sald:
They say his system 'tis in vain to batter,
...