The Poetical Works of Thomas Moore: Including His Melodies, Ballads, Etc., Complete in One VolumeJ. Crissy, 1838 - 419 страница |
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Страница iv
... bowers VII . The women tell me every day . VIII . I care not for the idle state ib . • ib . ib . 239 ib . • 240 ib . . ib . ib . 241 • ib . 242 243 244 245 · 246 IX . I pray thee by the gods above X. Tell me how to punish thee . XI ...
... bowers VII . The women tell me every day . VIII . I care not for the idle state ib . • ib . ib . 239 ib . • 240 ib . . ib . ib . 241 • ib . 242 243 244 245 · 246 IX . I pray thee by the gods above X. Tell me how to punish thee . XI ...
Страница vi
... bowers Erin ib . What the bee is to the floweret 332 Here we dwell , in holiest bowers ib . This life is all chequer'd with pleasures and woes ib . No. V. Advertisement 333 Through Erin's isle ib . weeping • At the ' mid hour of night ...
... bowers Erin ib . What the bee is to the floweret 332 Here we dwell , in holiest bowers ib . This life is all chequer'd with pleasures and woes ib . No. V. Advertisement 333 Through Erin's isle ib . weeping • At the ' mid hour of night ...
Страница vii
... bower Holy be the pilgrim's sleep I can no longer stifle I saw the moon rise clear Joys that pass away Light sounds the harp ib . Dear Fanny ib . Did not 357 Fanny , dearest ! ib . Fanny was in the grove . ib . ib . · • ib . 358 • ib ...
... bower Holy be the pilgrim's sleep I can no longer stifle I saw the moon rise clear Joys that pass away Light sounds the harp ib . Dear Fanny ib . Did not 357 Fanny , dearest ! ib . Fanny was in the grove . ib . ib . · • ib . 358 • ib ...
Страница viii
... bower 377 · Young Jessica ib . Epitaph on a lawyer The Rabbinical Origin of Women 378 My birth - day Farewell , Bessy . ib . To - day , dearest ! is ours ib . Love had a fever When on the lip the sigh delays ib . Remonstrance to Lord J ...
... bower 377 · Young Jessica ib . Epitaph on a lawyer The Rabbinical Origin of Women 378 My birth - day Farewell , Bessy . ib . To - day , dearest ! is ours ib . Love had a fever When on the lip the sigh delays ib . Remonstrance to Lord J ...
Страница 29
... bowers with shapes of love , ( Creatures so bright , that the same lips and eyes They wear on earth will serve in Paradise ) There to recline among Heav'n's native maids , And crown th ' Elect with bliss that never fades ! - Well hath ...
... bowers with shapes of love , ( Creatures so bright , that the same lips and eyes They wear on earth will serve in Paradise ) There to recline among Heav'n's native maids , And crown th ' Elect with bliss that never fades ! - Well hath ...
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Anacreon ancient angels bard beam beautiful beneath bless blest bliss bloom blush bosom bowers breath bright brow burning called Catullus charm cheek Cicero creon dark dear death delight divine dream e'en e'er earth Epicurus epigram eyes fair fancy feel fire flame flowers friends glory glow grace Haram hath heart heaven holy hope hour Ireland Irish King kiss LALLA ROOKH light lips live look look'd Lord Lord Byron Love's lover lute lyre maid Moore morning ne'er never night nymph o'er once Persian Pindar Plato Plutarch poem poet rose round Sappho seem'd shade shed shine sigh sleep smile song soul sparkling spirit sweet tears tell thee There's thine thing THOMAS MOORE thou thought throne turn'd Twas warm wave weep wild wings words young youth δε και
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Страница 362 - DRY'ST THE MOURNER'S TEAR. (AiR. — HAYDN.) •' He healeth the broken in heart, and bindeth up their wounds." — Psalm cxlvii. 3. OH Thou who dry'st the mourner's tear. How dark this world would be, If, when deceived and wounded here, We could not fly to Thee. 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 319 - 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 ! ST SENANUS AND THE LADY.
Страница 354 - Those joyous hours are passed away ; And many a heart, that then was gay, Within the tomb now darkly dwells, And hears no more those evening bells. And so 'twill be when I am gone ; That tuneful peal will still ring on, While other bards shall walk these dells, And sing your praise, sweet evening bells ! Moore.
Страница 139 - I KNEW, by the smoke that so gracefully curled Above the green elms, that a cottage was near, And I said, " If there's peace to be found in the world, A heart that was humble might hope for it here...
Страница 59 - Oh ! ever thus, from childhood's hour, I've seen my fondest hopes decay ; I never loved a tree or flower, But 'twas the first to fade away. I never nursed a dear gazelle, To glad me with its soft black eye, • But when it came to know me well, And love me, it was sure to die...
Страница 362 - Then sorrow, touched by Thee, grows bright With more than rapture's ray ; As darkness shows us worlds of light We never saw by day ! • Thomas Moore, 1779—1852.
Страница 52 - 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 334 - 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. So soon may...
Страница 363 - SOUND the loud timbrel o'er Egypt's dark sea ! Jehovah has triumphed, — his people are free ! Sing, — for the pride of the tyrant is broken, His chariots, his horsemen, all splendid and brave, — 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 I Jehovah has triumphed, — his people are free ! Prai.se to the Conqueror, praise to the Lord ! His word was our arrow, his breath was our sword.
Страница 319 - 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.