Lalla RookhH. Altemus Company, 1895 - 273 sider "Lalla Rookh is an Oriental romance by Thomas Moore, published in 1817. The title is taken from the name of the heroine of the frame tale, the daughter of the 17th-century Mughal emperor Aurangzeb. The work consists of four narrative poems with a connecting tale in prose."--Wikipedia |
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Side 109
... e'en in death . Thou seest yon cistern in the shade , - ' tis fill'd With burning drugs , for this last hour distill'd : There will I plunge me , in that liquid flame Fit bath to lave a dying Prophet's frame ! There perish , all , ere ...
... e'en in death . Thou seest yon cistern in the shade , - ' tis fill'd With burning drugs , for this last hour distill'd : There will I plunge me , in that liquid flame Fit bath to lave a dying Prophet's frame ! There perish , all , ere ...
Side 140
... e'en in the hour The drop descends , contagion dies , And health re - animates earth and skies ! Oh , it is not thus , thou man of sin , The precious tears of repentance fall ? Though foul thy fiery plagues within , One heavenly drop ...
... e'en in the hour The drop descends , contagion dies , And health re - animates earth and skies ! Oh , it is not thus , thou man of sin , The precious tears of repentance fall ? Though foul thy fiery plagues within , One heavenly drop ...
Side 165
... e'en now forget How link'd , how bless'd we might have been , Had fate not frown'd so dark between ! Hadst thou been born a Persian maid , In neighboring valleys had we dwelt , Through the same fields in childhood play'd , At the same ...
... e'en now forget How link'd , how bless'd we might have been , Had fate not frown'd so dark between ! Hadst thou been born a Persian maid , In neighboring valleys had we dwelt , Through the same fields in childhood play'd , At the same ...
Side 171
... e'en tyrant heads may rest , Is one of many , brave as he , Who loathe thy haughty race and thee ; Who , though they know the strife is vain , Who , though they know the riven chain - Snaps but to enter in the heart Of him who THE FIRE ...
... e'en tyrant heads may rest , Is one of many , brave as he , Who loathe thy haughty race and thee ; Who , though they know the strife is vain , Who , though they know the riven chain - Snaps but to enter in the heart Of him who THE FIRE ...
Side 172
... E'en for one bleeding moment free , And die in pangs of liberty ! Thou know'st them well - ' tis some moons since Thy turban'd troops and blood - red flags , Thou satrap of a bigot Prince ! Have swarm'd among these Green Sea crags ; Yet ...
... E'en for one bleeding moment free , And die in pangs of liberty ! Thou know'st them well - ' tis some moons since Thy turban'd troops and blood - red flags , Thou satrap of a bigot Prince ! Have swarm'd among these Green Sea crags ; Yet ...
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angel Arab Azim beauteous beautiful beneath blest bliss blood bowers brave breath bride bright brow Bucharia burning Caliph Cashmere charm cheek dark dead dear death deep Delhi dread dream e'en e'er earth eyes Fadladeen fair falchion fear Feramorz fierce fire flame flowers Gheber glance gleam glory glow Hafed Haram hath heart Heaven holy Holy Valley hour hung hyæna Iran Iran's la Péri Lahore Lalla Rookh light lips look look'd lover lute maid minarets Mokanna moonlight Moslem mountains never night Nourmahal nymph o'er once Ormuz pass'd Peri Persian poet Princess pure round ruin'd satrap seem'd shining Shiraz shone sigh skies slave sleep smile soul sound sparkling spirit star stood sunk sweet sword tears thee thine Thomas Moore thou thought throne towers turn'd twas veil voice wandering warm warrior wave weep wild wings wretch young youth Zelica
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Side 70 - soon wither'd that hung o'er the wave, But some blossoms were gather'd while freshly they shone, 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 237 - Yet, ere it reach the plain below, Breaks into floods, that part forever. Oh, you that have the charge of Love, Keep him in rosy bondage bound, As in the Fields of Bliss above He sits, with flowerets fetter'd round; Loose not a tie that round him clings, -Nor ever let him use his wings ; For
Side 191 - cloudier eyes to shame. But no, 'twas but the minute's dream — A fantasy, — and ere the scream Had half-way pass'd her pallid lips, A death-like swoon, a chill eclipse Of soul and sense its darkness spread Around her, and she sunk as dead. How calm, how beautiful, comes on The stilly hour, when storms are gone
Side 134 - But nought can charm the luckless Peri : Her soul is sad, her wings are weary: Joyless she sees the Sun look down On that great Temple, once his own, Whose lonely columns stand sublime, Flinging their shadows from on high, Like dials which the wizard Time
Side 249 - of the Amra just oped by a bee ; And precious their tears as that rain from the sky, Which turns into pearls as it falls in the sea. Oh, think what the kiss and the smile must be worth When the sigh and the tear are so perfect in bliss ; And own, if there be an Elysium on earth, It is this, it is
Side 122 - Go, seek it, and redeem thy sin — 'Tis sweet to let the Pardon'd in." Rapidly as comets run To the embraces of the Sun, Fleeter than the starry brands Flung at night from angel hands, At those dark and daring sprites Down the blue vault the Peri flies,
Side 136 - Then swift his haggard brow he turn'd To the fair child, who fearless sat, Though never yet hath day-beam burn'd Upon a brow more fierce than that, — Sullenly fierce, a mixture dire, Like thunder-clouds, of gloom and fire, In which the Peri's eye could read
Side 70 - 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. That bower and its music I never forget ; But oft when alone, in the bloom of the year, I think — is the nightingale singing there yet? Are
Side 232 - all love and light, Visions by day and feasts by night ! A happier smile illumes each brow, With quicker spread each heart uncloses, And all is ecstasy — for now The Valley holds its Feast of Roses ; The joyous time, when pleasures pour Profusely round, and in their shower Hearts open, like the Season's Rose,
Side 129 - his own. Was safe from this foul midnight's breath. Safe in her father's princely halls, Where the cool airs from fountain falls, Freshly perfumed by many a brand Of the sweet wood from India's land, Were pure as she whose brow they fann'd. But see ! who yonder comes by stealth, This melancholy bower to seek.