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
... maid XX . One day the Muses twined the hands ib . XXI . Observe when mother Earth is dry XXII . The Phrygian rock that braves the storm · XXIII . I often wish this languid lyre XXIV . To all that breathe the airs of heaven ib . XXV ...
... maid XX . One day the Muses twined the hands ib . XXI . Observe when mother Earth is dry XXII . The Phrygian rock that braves the storm · XXIII . I often wish this languid lyre XXIV . To all that breathe the airs of heaven ib . XXV ...
Страница v
... maid is found 286 . Sweetest love ! I'll not forget thee If I swear by that eye · • · ib . ib . Song . ib . Julia's Kiss ib . Nature's Labels ib . Το ib . To Mrs. M- 275 Fly from the world , O Bessy ! to me 287 Song ib . Think on that ...
... maid is found 286 . Sweetest love ! I'll not forget thee If I swear by that eye · • · ib . ib . Song . ib . Julia's Kiss ib . Nature's Labels ib . Το ib . To Mrs. M- 275 Fly from the world , O Bessy ! to me 287 Song ib . Think on that ...
Страница vii
... maid ? 362 The Tablet of Love The bird , let loose ib . The young Rose Oh ! Thou who dry'st the mourner's tear ib . When in languor sleeps the heart Weep not for those ib . When ' midst the gay I meet · The turf shall be my fragrant ...
... maid ? 362 The Tablet of Love The bird , let loose ib . The young Rose Oh ! Thou who dry'st the mourner's tear ib . When in languor sleeps the heart Weep not for those ib . When ' midst the gay I meet · The turf shall be my fragrant ...
Страница xxv
... maid he loved , publication , to avoid the disadvantage of having his attended the minstrel into the wide world . For work appear after his friend Lord Byron's " Heaven three years there were no tidings of Dermid ; and the and Earth ...
... maid he loved , publication , to avoid the disadvantage of having his attended the minstrel into the wide world . For work appear after his friend Lord Byron's " Heaven three years there were no tidings of Dermid ; and the and Earth ...
Страница 31
... maid , the sorrow of her soul was such Ev'n reason blighted sunk beneath its touch ; And though , ere long , her sanguine spirit rose Above the first dead pressure of its woes , Though health and bloom return'd , the delicate chain Of ...
... maid , the sorrow of her soul was such Ev'n reason blighted sunk beneath its touch ; And though , ere long , her sanguine spirit rose Above the first dead pressure of its woes , Though health and bloom return'd , the delicate chain Of ...
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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.