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Anacreon ancient appears arms beam beautiful beneath bliss breath bright bring brow called charm dark dear death deep dream earth epigram ev'n eyes fair fall fancy fear feel fire flowers friends give glory grace hand happy hath head hear heard heart heaven hope hour King late leave letter light lips live look Lord lost maid meet mind morning nature never night o'er once original pass Persian poem poet pure rest rose round seen shade shine sigh sing sleep smile song soon soul sound spirit star sweet tears tell thee thine things thou thought true turn Twas voice wave weep wild wing young youth
Side 230 - 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 232 - 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.
Side 245 - 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.
Side 282 - 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 ! Thus in the stilly night Ere slumber's chain has bound me, Sad Memory brings the light Of other days around me.
Side 246 - Though all the world betrays thee, One sword, at least, thy rights shall guard, One faithful harp shall praise thee ! " The minstrel fell ! — but the foeman's chain Could not bring his proud soul under ; The harp he lov-ed ne'er spoke again, For he tore its chords asunder ; And said, " No chains shall sully thee, Thou soul of love and bravery ! Thy songs were made for the pure and free, They shall never sound in slavery...
Side 298 - But high she shoots through air and light, Above all low delay, Where nothing earthly bounds her flight, Nor shadow dims her way. So grant me, GOD, from every care And stain of passion free, Aloft, through Virtue's purer air, To hold my course to Thee ! No sin to cloud, no lure to stay My Soul, as home she springs ; — Thy Sunshine on her joyful way, Thy Freedom in her wings ! FALLEN IS THY THRONE.
Side 251 - Come, rest in this bosom, my own stricken deer, Though the herd have fled from thee, thy home is still here ; Here still is the smile, that no cloud can o'ercast, And a heart and a hand all thy own to the last.
Side 449 - There's a bliss beyond all that the minstrel has told, When two, that are link'd in one heavenly tie. With heart never changing and brow never cold, Love on through all ills, and love on till they die ! One hour of a passion so sacred is worth Whole ages of heartless and wandering bliss ; And oh ! if there be an Elysium on earth, It is this, it is this.
Side 231 - One fatal remembrance, one sorrow that throws Its bleak shade alike o'er our joys and our woes, To which life nothing darker, or brighter can bring, For which joy has no balm and affliction no sting...