In words, as fashions, the same rule will hold,

Alike fantastic if too new or old:

Be not the first by whom the new are tried,

Nor yet the last to lay the old aside.

Alexander Pope (1688-1744): Essay on Criticism. Part ii. Line 133.

He who hath bent him o'er the dead

Ere the first day of death is fled,—

The first dark day of nothingness,

The last of danger and distress,

Before decay's effacing fingers

Have swept the lines where beauty lingers.

Lord Byron 1788-1824: The Giaour. Line 68.

Wert thou all that I wish thee, great, glorious, and free,

First flower of the earth and first gem of the sea.

Thomas Moore (1779-1852): Remember Thee.

Wert thou all that I wish thee, great, glorious, and free,

First flower of the earth and first gem of the sea.

Thomas Moore (1779-1852): Remember Thee.

Thou great First Cause, least understood.

Alexander Pope (1688-1744): The Universal Prayer. Stanza 2.

This noble ensample to his shepe he yaf,—

That first he wrought, and afterwards he taught.

Geoffrey Chaucer (1328-1400): Canterbury Tales. Prologue. Line 498.

The first in banquets, but the last in fight.

Alexander Pope (1688-1744): The Iliad of Homer. Book iv. Line 401.

The first in glory, as the first in place.

Alexander Pope (1688-1744): The Odyssey of Homer. Book xi. Line 441.

The best of men

That e'er wore earth about him was a sufferer;

A soft, meek, patient, humble, tranquil spirit,

The first true gentleman that ever breathed.

Thomas Dekker (1572-1632): The Honest Whore. Part i. Act i. Sc. 12.

And truant husband should return, and say,

"My dear, I was the first who came away."

Lord Byron 1788-1824: Don Juan. Canto i. Stanza 141.

Come to the bridal chamber, Death!

Come to the mother's, when she feels

For the first time her first-born's breath!

Come when the blessed seals

That close the pestilence are broke,

And crowded cities wail its stroke!

Come in consumption's ghastly form,

The earthquake shock, the ocean storm!

Come when the heart beats high and warm,

With banquet song, and dance, and wine!

And thou art terrible!—the tear,

The groan, the knell, the pall, the bier,

And all we know or dream or fear

Of agony are thine.

Alfred Bunn (1790-1860): Marco Bozzaris.