The Morgante Maggiore Lord Byron

I.

In the beginning was the Word next God;
        God was the Word, the Word no less was He:
This was in the beginning, to my mode
        Of thinking, and without Him nought could be:
Therefore, just Lord! from out thy high abode,
        Benign and pious, bid an angel flee,
One only, to be my companion, who
Shall help my famous, worthy, old song through.

II.

And thou, oh Virgin! daughter, mother, bride,
        Of the same Lord, who gave to you each key
Of Heaven, and Hell, and every thing beside,
        The day thy Gabriel said "All hail!" to thee,
Since to thy servants Pity's ne'er denied,
        With flowing rhymes, a pleasant style and free,
Be to my verses then benignly kind,
And to the end illuminate my mind.

III.

'Twas in the season when sad Philomel
        Weeps with her sister, who remembers and
Deplores the ancient woes which both befel,
        And makes the nymphs enamoured, to the hand
Of Phaëton, by Phoebus loved so well,
        His car (but tempered by his sire's command)
Was given, and on the horizon's verge just now
Appeared, so that Tithonus scratched his brow: