The poetical works of Thomas Moore, with lifeHouston & Wright, 1866 - 490 страница |
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Страница 7
... O'er his features hung The veil , the silver veil , which he had flung In mercy there , to hide from mortal sight His dazzling brow , till man could bear its light . For , far less luminous , his votaries said , Were ev'n the gleams ...
... O'er his features hung The veil , the silver veil , which he had flung In mercy there , to hide from mortal sight His dazzling brow , till man could bear its light . For , far less luminous , his votaries said , Were ev'n the gleams ...
Страница 8
... O'er all its tufted heads his feathering snows . Between the porphyry pillars , that uphold The rich moresque - work of the roof of gold , Aloft the Haram's curtain'd galleries rise , Where , through the silken net - work , glancing ...
... O'er all its tufted heads his feathering snows . Between the porphyry pillars , that uphold The rich moresque - work of the roof of gold , Aloft the Haram's curtain'd galleries rise , Where , through the silken net - work , glancing ...
Страница 11
... o'er thy brow can wave ; — But , once my own , mine all till in the grave ! " The pomp is at an end , -the crowds are gone- Each ear and heart still haunted by the tone Of that deep voice , which thrill'd like Alla's own ! The young all ...
... o'er thy brow can wave ; — But , once my own , mine all till in the grave ! " The pomp is at an end , -the crowds are gone- Each ear and heart still haunted by the tone Of that deep voice , which thrill'd like Alla's own ! The young all ...
Страница 16
... o'er the yawning wave , But not to point the harbour which might save . Hours of delight and peace , long left behind , With that dear form came rushing o'er her mind ; But oh ! to think how deep her soul had gone In shame and falsehood ...
... o'er the yawning wave , But not to point the harbour which might save . Hours of delight and peace , long left behind , With that dear form came rushing o'er her mind ; But oh ! to think how deep her soul had gone In shame and falsehood ...
Страница 20
... o'er Hell's Gate is read , That , new as ' twas from her , whom nought could dim Or sink till now , it startled even him . 66 Ha , my fair Priestess ! " - thus , with ready wile , Th ' Impostor turn'd to greet her- " thou , whose smile ...
... o'er Hell's Gate is read , That , new as ' twas from her , whom nought could dim Or sink till now , it startled even him . 66 Ha , my fair Priestess ! " - thus , with ready wile , Th ' Impostor turn'd to greet her- " thou , whose smile ...
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Anacreon angel beam beautiful beneath bless blest bliss blood bloom bosom bowers breath breath'd breeze bright brow burning Cashmere charm cheek cup of Jamshid dark dear death Dismal Swamp divine dream e'er earth enchanted wreath ev'n eyes Fadladeen fair falchion fancy feel Feramorz fire flame flowers Ghebers glory glow gold Hafed Haram hath heart Heaven holy hour hung hyæna Iran Iran's lake Lalla Rookh light lips look look'd lov'd lover lute lyre maid moonlight morning mountain ne'er never night Nourmahal nymph o'er pass'd Peri Persian poet Polianthes tuberosa pure roses round seem'd shade shed shining sigh skies sleep smile song soul sparkling spirit star sweet sword Tahmuras tears tears of wine tell thee thine thou thought throne trembling turn'd Twas veil wandering warm wave weep wild wing wretch young youth
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Страница 403 - Twas that friends, the beloved of my bosom, were near, Who made every dear scene of enchantment more dear, And who felt how the best charms of nature improve, When we see them reflected from looks that we love. Sweet vale of Avoca ! how calm could I rest In thy bosom of shade, with the friends I love best, Where the storms that we feel in this cold world should cease, And our hearts, like thy waters, Be mingled in peace.
Страница 434 - Tis the last rose of summer Left blooming alone ; All her lovely companions Are faded and gone ; No flower of her kindred, No rose-bud is nigh, To reflect back her blushes, Or give sigh for sigh. I'll not leave thee, thou lone one ! To pine on the stem; Since the lovely are sleeping, Go, sleep thou with them. Thus kindly I scatter Thy leaves o'er the bed, Where thy mates of the garden Lie scentless and dead.
Страница 49 - Go, wing thy flight from star to star, From world to luminous world, as far As the universe spreads its flaming wall; Take all the pleasures of all the spheres, And multiply each through endless years — One minute of heaven is worth them all!
Страница 402 - THERE is not in the wide world a valley so sweet, As that vale in whose bosom the bright waters meet ; Oh ! the last rays of feeling and life must depart, Ere the bloom of that valley shall fade from my heart. Yet it was not that Nature had shed o'er the scene, Her purest of crystal and brightest of green ; 'Twas not the soft magic of streamlet or hill ; Oh ! no — it was something more exquisite still.
Страница 383 - This world is all a fleeting show For man's illusion given ; The smiles of joy, the tears of woe, Deceitful shine, deceitful flow, — There's nothing true but Heaven...
Страница 23 - There's a bower of roses by BENDEMEER'S§ stream, And the nightingale sings round it all the day long ; In the time of my childhood 'twas like a sweet dream, To sit in the roses and hear the bird's song.
Страница 139 - For, oh, if there be an elysium on earth, It is this, it is this ! There's a bliss beyond all that the minstrel has told, When two, that are link'd in one heavenly tie, With heart never changing and brow never cold, Love on through all ills, and love on till they die ; One hour of a passion so sacred is worth Whole ages of heartless and wandering bliss : And oh...
Страница 386 - And Miriam the prophetess, the sister of Aaron, took a timbrel in her hand ; and all the women went out after her with timbrels and with dances. And Miriam answered them, Sing ye to the LORD, for he hath triumphed gloriously ; the horse and his rider hath he thrown into the sea.
Страница 382 - Therefore, behold, the days come, saith the Lord, that it shall no more be called Tophet, nor the valley of the son of Hinnom, but the valley of Slaughter ; for they shall bury in Tophet, till there be no place.
Страница 409 - Neagh's bank as the fisherman strays, When the clear cold eve's declining, He sees the round towers of other days In the wave beneath him shining...