Thomas MooreMacmillan, 1904 - 203 sider |
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A. C. BENSON amatory Anacreon appears beautiful Bermuda Bessy Byron Captain Rock Catholic charm criticism dear delight Diary dinner Donington Park Dublin Dublin edition Emmet English Epistles expressed fame father feel friendship gave heart honour hope interest Ireland Irish Melodies Jeffrey Kilkenny kind Lady Donegal Lalla Rookh later less letter literary London Longmans Lord Edward Fitzgerald Lord John Russell Lord Lansdowne Lord Moira lyric Melologue Memoirs metre mind Miss Godfrey months Moore wrote Moore's mother Murray Music natural never notes o'er Paris passage passion pleasure poem poet poet's poetical poetry political Power prose Protestant published returned rhyme Rogers Sarah Curran satire Scott seems Sheridan singing Sir LESLIE STEPHEN sister Sloperton song spirit success sweet talent taste thee thing Thomas Moore thought thousand guineas tion verse volume Whig wife words writing written young
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Side 13 - When my country takes her place among the nations of the earth, then, and not till then, let my epitaph be written.
Side 15 - She is far from the land where her young hero sleeps, And lovers around her are sighing; But coldly she turns from their gaze and weeps, For her heart in his grave is lying.
Side 13 - Rebellion ! foul, dishonouring word, Whose wrongful blight so oft has stain'd The holiest cause that tongue or sword Of mortal ever lost or gain'd. How many a spirit, born to bless, Hath sunk beneath that withering name, Whom but a day's, an hour's success Had wafted to eternal fame...
Side 102 - WHO has not heard of the Vale of Cashmere, With its roses the brightest that earth ever gave, Its temples, and grottos, and fountains as clear As the love-lighted eyes that hang over their wave...
Side 198 - 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.
Side 201 - Tis never too late for delight, my dear, And the best of all ways To lengthen our days, Is to steal a few hours from the night, my dear!
Side 102 - Dead-Sea fruits, that tempt the eye, But turn to ashes on the lips ! His country's curse, his children's shame, Outcast of virtue, peace, and fame, May he, at last, with lips of flame On the parch'd desert thirsting die, — While lakes, that shone in mockery nigh...