The life of Thomas Moore. Centenary edDublin, 1879 - 256 страница |
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Страница 6
... MOORE was not only a sweet poet , but an erudite scholar , and that in every department of literature ( the drama ex- cepted ) . he shone as a conspicuous and brilliant luminary . It was the opinion of O'Connell that MOORE.
... MOORE was not only a sweet poet , but an erudite scholar , and that in every department of literature ( the drama ex- cepted ) . he shone as a conspicuous and brilliant luminary . It was the opinion of O'Connell that MOORE.
Страница 25
... sweet prophetic strain ; Thy sweet prophetic strain we hear , And bless the notes , and thee revere ! The Muses love thy shrilly tone Apollo calls thee all his own ; ' Twas he who gave that voice to thee , ' Tis he who tunes thy ...
... sweet prophetic strain ; Thy sweet prophetic strain we hear , And bless the notes , and thee revere ! The Muses love thy shrilly tone Apollo calls thee all his own ; ' Twas he who gave that voice to thee , ' Tis he who tunes thy ...
Страница 44
... sweet wreath of song is the last we shall twine ; Go , sleep with the sunshine of Fame on thy slumbers , Till touch'd by some hand less unworthy than mine . If the pulse of the patriot soldier , or lover , Have throbb'd at our lay ...
... sweet wreath of song is the last we shall twine ; Go , sleep with the sunshine of Fame on thy slumbers , Till touch'd by some hand less unworthy than mine . If the pulse of the patriot soldier , or lover , Have throbb'd at our lay ...
Страница 47
... sweet voice of the songs of other days be heard . Even of that class , the itinerant harpers , among whom for a long period our ancient music had been kept alive , there re- mained but few to continue the precious tradition , and a ...
... sweet voice of the songs of other days be heard . Even of that class , the itinerant harpers , among whom for a long period our ancient music had been kept alive , there re- mained but few to continue the precious tradition , and a ...
Страница 51
... sweet , Her day of luxury stor'd , She o'er her Saviour's hallow'd feet The precious odours pour'd ! And wip'd them with that golden hair , Where once the diamond shone ; Though now those gems of grief were there , Which shine for God ...
... sweet , Her day of luxury stor'd , She o'er her Saviour's hallow'd feet The precious odours pour'd ! And wip'd them with that golden hair , Where once the diamond shone ; Though now those gems of grief were there , Which shine for God ...
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admiration Anacreon ancient appeared Bannow bard beautiful breath bright called Catholic character Charlemont House Christian dark dear delight Dublin Edinburgh Review eloquence Emmet Erin expression eyes fame fancy father feeling flowers freedom gave genius glory hand happy harp hear heart heaven honour hope hour illustrious Ireland Irish Melodies Irishman land letter light literary living Lord Byron Lord Charlemont Lord Edward Lord Edward Fitzgerald Lord Moira lordship loud applause loud cheers memory ment mind Moore's music of Ireland native nature never noble O'Connell o'er occasion passages passed patriot pleasure poems poet poetical poetry present racter rose sacred saint satire scene Sheridan smile song soul speak spirit sweet talent thee THOMAS MOORE thou thought thousand guineas tion Tom Moore tribute Twas United Irishmen verse voice volume words writes wrote young
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Страница 52 - When hastening fondly home, Ne'er stoops to earth her wing, nor flies Where idle warblers roam. But high she shoots through air and light, Above all low delay, Where nothing earthly bounds her flight, Nor shadow dims her way.
Страница 58 - 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 43 - He had lived for his love, for his country he died, They were all that to life had entwined him ; Nor soon shall the tears of his country be dried, Nor long will his love stay behind him.
Страница 43 - She is far from the land where her young hero sleeps, And lovers around her are sighing : But coldly she turns from their gaze, and weeps, For her heart in his grave is lying.
Страница 60 - And how felt he, the wretched man Reclining there, while memory ran O'er many a year of guilt and strife, — Flew o'er the dark flood of his life, Nor found one sunny resting-place, Nor brought him back one branch of grace. "There was a time," he said, in mild, Heart-humbled tones, "thou blessed child!
Страница 52 - The friends who in our sunshine live, When winter comes, are flown, And he who has but tears to give Must weep those tears alone.
Страница 42 - Where cold and unhonour'd his relics are laid : Sad, silent, and dark, be the tears that we shed, As the night-dew that falls on the grass o'er his head. But the night-dew that falls, though in silence it weeps, Shall brighten with verdure the grave where he sleeps...
Страница 53 - How vain was their boasting! — the Lord hath but spoken, And chariots and horsemen are sunk in the wave? Sound the loud timbrel o'er Egypt's dark sea! Jehovah has triumphed — His people are free!
Страница 60 - There was a time," he said, in mild, Heart-humbled tones — " thou blessed child ! When, young and haply pure as thou, I look'd and pray'd like thee — but now — " He hung his head — each nobler aim And hope and feeling, which had slept From boyhood's hour, that instant came Fresh o'er him, and he wept — he wept ! Blest tears of soul-felt penitence ! In whose benign, redeeming flow Is felt the first, the only sense Of guiltless joy that guilt can know. "There's a drop...
Страница 44 - DEAR Harp of my country ! in darkness I found thee, The cold chain of silence had hung o'er thee long, When proudly, my own Island Harp ! I unbound thee, And gave all thy chords to light, freedom, and song...