The Poetical Works of Thomas Moore: Complete in One VolumeD. Appleton, 1853 - 747 sider |
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Side 31
... wild struggle to which so many far better men than myself fell victims . in which a profusion of bad flowers of rheto- ric was enwreathed plentifully with that weed which Shakspeare calls " the cockle of rebel- lion , " and , in the ...
... wild struggle to which so many far better men than myself fell victims . in which a profusion of bad flowers of rheto- ric was enwreathed plentifully with that weed which Shakspeare calls " the cockle of rebel- lion , " and , in the ...
Side 65
... wild but sweet ebriety ; Flashing around such sparks of thought , As Bacchus could alone have taught . Then , give the harp of epic song , Which Homer's finger thrill'd along ; But tear away the sanguine string , For war is not the ...
... wild but sweet ebriety ; Flashing around such sparks of thought , As Bacchus could alone have taught . Then , give the harp of epic song , Which Homer's finger thrill'd along ; But tear away the sanguine string , For war is not the ...
Side 67
... furere furorem • " Sicut unguentum in capite quod descendit in barbam Aaronis , Pseaume cxxxiii . ” And let me sing , in wild delight , " ODES OF ANACREON . 67 The women tell me every care not for the idle state pray thee, by the gods ...
... furere furorem • " Sicut unguentum in capite quod descendit in barbam Aaronis , Pseaume cxxxiii . ” And let me sing , in wild delight , " ODES OF ANACREON . 67 The women tell me every care not for the idle state pray thee, by the gods ...
Side 68
... wild delight , " I will - I will be mad to - night . " Alcides ' self , in days of yore , Imbrued his hands in youthful gore , And brandish'd , with a maniac joy , The quiver of th ' expiring boy : And Ajax , with tremendous shield ...
... wild delight , " I will - I will be mad to - night . " Alcides ' self , in days of yore , Imbrued his hands in youthful gore , And brandish'd , with a maniac joy , The quiver of th ' expiring boy : And Ajax , with tremendous shield ...
Side 69
... wild , prophetic dream . But phrensied dreams are not for me , Great Bacchus is my deity ! Full of mirth , and full of him , While floating odors round me swim , * While mantling bowls are full supplied , And you sit blushing by my side ...
... wild , prophetic dream . But phrensied dreams are not for me , Great Bacchus is my deity ! Full of mirth , and full of him , While floating odors round me swim , * While mantling bowls are full supplied , And you sit blushing by my side ...
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Almindelige termer og sætninger
Anacreon ancient bard beam beautiful beneath bless bless'd blest bliss bloom blushing bower breath bright bright eyes brow called Catullus charm Cicero Cupid dance dark dear death divine dream e'er earth Epicurean Epicurus epigram ev'n ev'ry eyes fair fancy feel flame flowers friends glory grace hand hath heart heaven hope hour Irish King LALLA ROOKH light lips live look look'd Lord Love's lover lute lyre maid morning ne'er never night nymph o'er once pass'd Persian Plato Plutarch poem poet Quadrille rose round Sappho seem'd shade shine shone sigh sing sleep smile song soul spirit star sweet tears tell thee there's thine things thou thought throne turn'd Twas Twill Twixt voice wave weep Whig wild wings words young youth
Populære passager
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...
Side 235 - No, the heart that has truly loved never forgets, But as truly loves on to the close, As the sun-flower turns on her god, when he sets, The same look which she turned when he rose.