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.

By all that's good and glorious.

Lord Byron 1788-1824: Sardanapalus. Act i. Sc. 2.

I 'll make thee glorious by my pen,

And famous by my sword.

Marquis Of Montrose (1612-1650): My Dear and only Love.

I 'll make thee glorious by my pen,

And famous by my sword.

Marquis Of Montrose (1612-1650): My Dear and only Love.

A man of sovereign parts he is esteem'd;

Well fitted in arts, glorious in arms:

Nothing becomes him ill that he would well.

William Shakespeare (1564-1616): Love's Labour's Lost. Act ii. Sc. 1.

Divine in hookas, glorious in a pipe

When tipp'd with amber, mellow, rich, and ripe;

Like other charmers, wooing the caress

More dazzlingly when daring in full dress;

Yet thy true lovers more admire by far

Thy naked beauties—give me a cigar!

Lord Byron 1788-1824: The Island. Canto ii. Stanza 19.

Full many a glorious morning have I seen.

William Shakespeare (1564-1616): Sonnet xxxiii.

It came upon the midnight clear,

That glorious song of old.

Edmund H Sears (1810-1876): The Angels' Song.

Now is the winter of our discontent

Made glorious summer by this sun of York,

And all the clouds that loured upon our house

In the deep bosom of the ocean buried.

Now are our brows bound with victorious wreaths,

Our bruised arms hung up for monuments,

Our stern alarums changed to merry meetings,

Our dreadful marches to delightful measures.

Grim-visaged war hath smoothed his wrinkled front;

And now, instead of mounting barbed steeds

To fright the souls of fearful adversaries,

He capers nimbly in a lady's chamber

To the lascivious pleasing of a lute.

But I, that am not shaped for sportive tricks,

Nor made to court an amorous looking-glass;

I, that am rudely stamped, and want love's majesty

To strut before a wanton ambling nymph;

I, that am curtailed of this fair proportion,

Cheated of feature by dissembling nature,

Deformed, unfinished, sent before my time

Into this breathing world, scarce half made up,

And that so lamely and unfashionable

That dogs bark at me as I halt by them,—

Why, I, in this weak piping time of peace,

Have no delight to pass away the time,

Unless to spy my shadow in the sun.

William Shakespeare (1564-1616): King Richard III. Act i. Sc. 1.

Kings may be blest, but Tam was glorious,

O'er a' the ills o' life victorious.

Robert Burns (1759-1796): Tam o' Shanter.

O, now, for ever

Farewell the tranquil mind! farewell content!

Farewell the plumed troop and the big wars

That make ambition virtue! O, farewell!

Farewell the neighing steed and the shrill trump,

The spirit-stirring drum, the ear-piercing fife,

The royal banner, and all quality,

Pride, pomp, and circumstance of glorious war!

And, O you mortal engines, whose rude throats

The immortal Jove's dread clamours counterfeit,

Farewell! Othello's occupation's gone!

William Shakespeare (1564-1616): Othello. Act iii. Sc. 3.

These are thy glorious works, Parent of good!

John Milton (1608-1674): Paradise Lost. Book v. Line 153.