The Poetical Works of Thomas Moore: Including His Melodies, Ballads, Etc., Complete in One VolumeJ. Crissy, 1838 - 419 sider |
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Side iv
... round the pole . Page it 251 ib . ib . 252 · ib . • 253 • XXXIV . Oh thou , of all creation bless'd XXXV . Cupid once upon a bed XXXVI . If hoarded gold possess'd a power XXXVII . ' Twas night , and many a circling bowl 254 ib . THE TWO ...
... round the pole . Page it 251 ib . ib . 252 · ib . • 253 • XXXIV . Oh thou , of all creation bless'd XXXV . Cupid once upon a bed XXXVI . If hoarded gold possess'd a power XXXVII . ' Twas night , and many a circling bowl 254 ib . THE TWO ...
Side vi
... round , boy . now . No. IV . Advertisement ib . 329 • Oh ! the days are gone , when beauty bright Though dark are our sorrows , to - day we ' ll forget them Weep on , weep on , your hour is past ib . ib . 330 • Lesbia hath a beaming eye ...
... round , boy . now . No. IV . Advertisement ib . 329 • Oh ! the days are gone , when beauty bright Though dark are our sorrows , to - day we ' ll forget them Weep on , weep on , your hour is past ib . ib . 330 • Lesbia hath a beaming eye ...
Side 35
... round him floats ; Or as the Nile - bird loves the slime that gives That rank and venomous food on which she lives !! And , now thou see'st my soul's angelic hue , ' Tis time those features were uncurtain'd too ; - This brow , whose ...
... round him floats ; Or as the Nile - bird loves the slime that gives That rank and venomous food on which she lives !! And , now thou see'st my soul's angelic hue , ' Tis time those features were uncurtain'd too ; - This brow , whose ...
Side 36
... round her by these magic scents , The well , the camels , and her father's tents ; Sighs for the home she left with little pain , And wishes e'en its sorrows back again ! Meanwhile , through vast illuminated halls , Silent and bright ...
... round her by these magic scents , The well , the camels , and her father's tents ; Sighs for the home she left with little pain , And wishes e'en its sorrows back again ! Meanwhile , through vast illuminated halls , Silent and bright ...
Side 37
... round , Like a pervading spirit ; -- the still sound Of falling waters , lulling as the song Of Indian bees at sunset , when they throng Around the fragrant NILICA , and deep In its blue blossoms hum themselves to sleep !! And music too ...
... round , Like a pervading spirit ; -- the still sound Of falling waters , lulling as the song Of Indian bees at sunset , when they throng Around the fragrant NILICA , and deep In its blue blossoms hum themselves to sleep !! And music too ...
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Anacreon ancient angels bard beam beautiful beneath bless blest bliss bloom blush bosom bowers breath bright brow burning called Catullus charm cheek Cicero creon dark dear death delight divine dream e'en e'er earth Epicurus epigram eyes fair fancy feel fire flame flowers friends glory glow grace Haram hath heart heaven holy hope hour Ireland Irish King kiss LALLA ROOKH light lips live look look'd Lord Lord Byron Love's lover lute lyre maid Moore morning ne'er never night nymph o'er once Persian Pindar Plato Plutarch poem poet rose round Sappho seem'd shade shed shine sigh sleep smile song soul sparkling spirit sweet tears tell thee There's thine thing THOMAS MOORE thou thought throne turn'd Twas warm wave weep wild wings words young youth δε και
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Side 362 - DRY'ST THE MOURNER'S TEAR. (AiR. — HAYDN.) •' He healeth the broken in heart, and bindeth up their wounds." — Psalm cxlvii. 3. OH Thou who dry'st the mourner's tear. How dark this world would be, If, when deceived and wounded here, We could not fly to Thee. The friends who in our sunshine live, When winter comes, are flown ; And he who has but tears to give, Must weep those tears alone.
Side 319 - 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 ! ST SENANUS AND THE LADY.
Side 354 - Those joyous hours are passed away ; And many a heart, that then was gay, Within the tomb now darkly dwells, And hears no more those evening bells. And so 'twill be when I am gone ; That tuneful peal will still ring on, While other bards shall walk these dells, And sing your praise, sweet evening bells ! Moore.
Side 139 - I KNEW, by the smoke that so gracefully curled Above the green elms, that a cottage was near, And I said, " If there's peace to be found in the world, A heart that was humble might hope for it here...
Side 59 - Oh ! ever thus, from childhood's hour, I've seen my fondest hopes decay ; I never loved a tree or flower, But 'twas the first to fade away. I never nursed a dear gazelle, To glad me with its soft black eye, • But when it came to know me well, And love me, it was sure to die...
Side 362 - Then sorrow, touched by Thee, grows bright With more than rapture's ray ; As darkness shows us worlds of light We never saw by day ! • Thomas Moore, 1779—1852.
Side 52 - Now, upon SYRIA'S land of roses Softly the light of eve reposes, And, like a glory, the broad sun Hangs over sainted LEBANON ; Whose head in wintry grandeur towers, And whitens with eternal sleet, While summer, in a vale of flowers, Is sleeping rosy at his feet.
Side 334 - 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. So soon may...
Side 363 - SOUND the loud timbrel o'er Egypt's dark sea ! Jehovah has triumphed, — his people are free ! Sing, — for the pride of the tyrant is broken, His chariots, his horsemen, all splendid and brave, — How vain was their boasting ! the Lord hath but spoken, And chariots and horsemen are sunk in the wave. Sound the loud timbrel o'er Egypt's dark sea I Jehovah has triumphed, — his people are free ! Prai.se to the Conqueror, praise to the Lord ! His word was our arrow, his breath was our sword.
Side 319 - THERE is not in the wide world a valley so sweet, As that vale in whose bosom the bright waters meet; Oh ! the last rays of feeling and life must depart, Ere the bloom of that valley shall fade from my heart.