The poetical works of Thomas Moore, with illustr. by K. Halswelle1863 |
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Страница v
... called the Anthologia Hibernica . Indeed of him , as of Pope , it might be said , " As yet a child , and all unknown to fame , He lisp'd in numbers , for the numbers came . " This taste for verse was no doubt stimulated by the training ...
... called the Anthologia Hibernica . Indeed of him , as of Pope , it might be said , " As yet a child , and all unknown to fame , He lisp'd in numbers , for the numbers came . " This taste for verse was no doubt stimulated by the training ...
Страница vi
... called the Press , which was the recog- nised organ of the United Irishmen . One of his letters in that paper , of a very fiery character , was taken notice of in Parliament ; and there is strong reason to believe that if Moore had not ...
... called the Press , which was the recog- nised organ of the United Irishmen . One of his letters in that paper , of a very fiery character , was taken notice of in Parliament ; and there is strong reason to believe that if Moore had not ...
Страница xi
... called the " M.P .; or , The Blue - Stocking ; " but a few nights on the stage were sufficient to exhaust its interest , and it has not been revived . He had In 1812 Moore determined to write an Eastern romance . had no personal ...
... called the " M.P .; or , The Blue - Stocking ; " but a few nights on the stage were sufficient to exhaust its interest , and it has not been revived . He had In 1812 Moore determined to write an Eastern romance . had no personal ...
Страница xii
... called the " The Twopenny Post - Bag ; or , Intercepted Letters , " which so hit the public taste , that thirteen or fourteen editions went through the press in a twelvemonth . Many other light satirical effusions found their way to the ...
... called the " The Twopenny Post - Bag ; or , Intercepted Letters , " which so hit the public taste , that thirteen or fourteen editions went through the press in a twelvemonth . Many other light satirical effusions found their way to the ...
Страница 3
... called Gul Reazee , or the Scattering of the Roses , till every part of the city was as fragrant as if a caravan of musk from Khoten had passed through it . The Princess , having taken leave of her kind father , who at parting hung a ...
... called Gul Reazee , or the Scattering of the Roses , till every part of the city was as fragrant as if a caravan of musk from Khoten had passed through it . The Princess , having taken leave of her kind father , who at parting hung a ...
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Чести термини и фразе
Anacreon beam beautiful beneath Bermuda blessed blest bliss bloom blushing bosom bowers breath breeze bright brow burning Caliph Cashmere charm cheek dark dear death Dismal Swamp divine dream e'er earth eyes Fadladeen fair feel Feramorz fire flame flowers friends Ghebers glory glow gold Haram harp hast hath heart heaven hope hour hung hyæna isle Khorassan Lake Lake of Lucerne Lalla Rookh light lips live look look'd Lord Moira lover lute lyre maid Moore morning ne'er never night nymph o'er once pass'd pure Pythagoras roses round seem'd shade shed shine Shiraz sigh skies sleep smile soft song soul sparkling spirit star sweet sword tear tell thee there's thine thou thought thousand guineas throne turn'd Twas twill twine veil vermil wandering warm wave weep wild wing young youth
Популарни одломци
Страница 439 - OH ! the days are gone, when Beauty bright My heart's chain wove ; When my dream of life from morn till night Was love, still love. New hope may bloom, And days may come Of milder, calmer beam, But there's nothing half so sweet in life As love's young dream : No, there's nothing half so sweet in life As love's young dream.
Страница 421 - 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.
Страница 25 - 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 447 - 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. So soon may / follow, When friendships decay, And from Love's shining circle The gems drop away.
Страница 415 - Go where glory waits thee, But while fame elates thee, Oh ! still remember me. When the praise thou meetest To thine ear is sweetest, Oh ! then remember me. Other arms may press thee, Dearer friends caress thee, All the joys that bless thee Sweeter far may be; But when friends are nearest, And when joys are dearest, Oh ! then remember me.
Страница 400 - 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 ! And false the light on glory's plume, As fading hues of even ; And Love, and Hope, and Beauty's bloom Are blossoms gathered for the tomb, — There's nothing bright but Heaven ! Poor wanderers of a stormy day, From wave to wave we're driven, And fancy's flash and reason's ray Serve but to light the troubled way, — There's nothing...
Страница 60 - Now, upon SYRIA'S land of roses Softly the light of eve reposes, And, like a glory, the broad sun Hangs over sainted LEBANON ; Whose head in wintry grandeur towers, And whitens with eternal sleet, While summer, in a vale of flowers, Is sleeping rosy at his feet.
Страница 398 - When night, with wings of starry gloom, O'ershadows all the earth and skies, Like some dark, beauteous bird, whose plume Is sparkling with unnumbered eyes, That sacred gloom, those fires divine, So grand, so countless, Lord, are Thine.
Страница 460 - And a heart and a hand all thy own to the last. Oh ! what was love made for, if 'tis not the same Through joy and through torment, through glory and shame ? I know not, I ask not, if guilt's in that heart, I but know that I love thee, whatever thou art.
Страница 460 - OH, where's the slave so lowly, Condemn'd to chains unholy, Who, could he burst His bonds at first, Would pine beneath them slowly ? What soul, whose wrongs degrade it, Would wait till time decay'd it, When thus its wing At once may spring To the throne of Him who made it f Farewell, Erin, — farewell, all, Who live to weep our fall...