The Works of Thomas Moore, Esq, Bind 3G. Smith, 1825 - 6 sider |
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Side 12
... Dreams of bright days that never can return ; When Athens nurs'd her olive - bough With hands by tyrant power unchained , And braided for the Muse's brow A wreath by tyrant touch unstained ; When heroes trod each classic field , Where ...
... Dreams of bright days that never can return ; When Athens nurs'd her olive - bough With hands by tyrant power unchained , And braided for the Muse's brow A wreath by tyrant touch unstained ; When heroes trod each classic field , Where ...
Side 24
... dream , It leaves no sting behind ! Come , twine the wreath , thy brows to shade . These flowers were cull'd at noon ; Like Woman's love the rose will fade , But , ah ! not half so soon ! For tho ' the flower's decay'd , Its fragrance ...
... dream , It leaves no sting behind ! Come , twine the wreath , thy brows to shade . These flowers were cull'd at noon ; Like Woman's love the rose will fade , But , ah ! not half so soon ! For tho ' the flower's decay'd , Its fragrance ...
Side 29
... dream . Thus love expands , Warm noon of love ! But evening came o'ershading The glories of the sky , Like faith and fondness fading From passion's alter'd eye ! Thus love declines ! Cold eve of love ! LOVE AND THE SUNDIAL . YOUNG LOve ...
... dream . Thus love expands , Warm noon of love ! But evening came o'ershading The glories of the sky , Like faith and fondness fading From passion's alter'd eye ! Thus love declines ! Cold eve of love ! LOVE AND THE SUNDIAL . YOUNG LOve ...
Side 32
... dreams of terror free , And may all , who wake to weep , Rest to - night as sweet as he . Hark ! hark ! did I hear a Vesper swell ? No , no , it is , my love , some Pilgrim's pray`r . No , ' twas but the Convent bell , That tolled upon ...
... dreams of terror free , And may all , who wake to weep , Rest to - night as sweet as he . Hark ! hark ! did I hear a Vesper swell ? No , no , it is , my love , some Pilgrim's pray`r . No , ' twas but the Convent bell , That tolled upon ...
Side 48
... dreams all the night about critics and dog With his hey , scribble - hy , scribble , ho ! His nag seem'd pegasus , touch'd in the wind And the curs were all wits of the true cyr kind , Who , when press'd for a supper , must bite erc ...
... dreams all the night about critics and dog With his hey , scribble - hy , scribble , ho ! His nag seem'd pegasus , touch'd in the wind And the curs were all wits of the true cyr kind , Who , when press'd for a supper , must bite erc ...
Almindelige termer og sætninger
battle of Clontarf beam beauty beneath Bermuda blest bliss bloom blush bosom bower bowl breath breath'd bright brow calm chain charm cloud cold dark daylight dies dear dearest death Dismal Swamp dream e'en e'er earth Erin ev'ry eyes fade fair fame Farewell feel flame flowers Glendalough glory glowing harp hath heart heaven Hero's heart hope hour Ireland Irish Irish poetry isle Kilkenny kiss leaves Lesbia light lips live look'd looks lov'd Love's lover lute maid Merrily oh moonlight morning ne'er never night o'er once Planxty Red Branch remember roses round scribble-hy shade shed shine sigh sing sleep smile soft song sorrow soul sparkle spirit star steal sweet tears tell thee there's thine THOMAS MOORE thou art thou hast thought Twas twill Voice wander warm wave weep wild wind wings young youth
Populære passager
Side 100 - THE harp that once through Tara's halls The soul of music shed, Now hangs as mute on Tara's walls, As if that soul were fled. — So sleeps the pride of former days, So glory's thrill is o'er, And hearts, that once beat high for praise, Now feel that pulse no more.
Side 243 - 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.
Side 90 - They made her a grave too cold and damp For a soul so warm and true; And she's gone to the Lake of the Dismal Swamp, Where all night long, by a fire-fly lamp, She paddles her white canoe. "And her fire-fly lamp I soon shall see And her paddle I soon shall hear; Long and loving our life shall be, And I'll hide the maid in a cypress tree, When the footstep of Death is near.
Side 77 - And oh ! if there be an elysium on earth, It is this, it is this...
Side 98 - Nature embellish'd the tint Of thy fields, and thy mountains so fair, Did she ever intend that a tyrant should print The footstep of slavery there? No! Freedom, whose smile we shall never resign, Go, tell our invaders, the Danes, That 'tis sweeter to bleed for an age at thy shrine, Than to sleep but a moment in chains.
Side 101 - OH ! BREATHE NOT HIS NAME. OH ! breathe not his name, let it sleep in the shade, 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.
Side 83 - And a dew was distill'd from their flowers, that gave All the fragrance of summer, when summer was gone. Thus memory draws from delight, ere it dies, An essence that breathes of it many a year...
Side 259 - Oft in the stilly night Ere slumber's chain has bound me, Fond Memory brings the light Of other days around me : The smiles, the tears Of boyhood's years, The words of love then spoken ; The eyes that shone, Now dimm'd and gone, The cheerful hearts now broken...
Side 102 - With thee were the dreams of my earliest love ; Every thought of my reason was thine : In my last humble prayer to the Spirit above, Thy name shall be mingled with mine...
Side 174 - Let Fate do her worst ; there are relics of joy, Bright dreams of the past, which she cannot destroy ; Which come in the night-time of sorrow and care, And bring back the features that joy used to wear.