The Poetical Works of Thomas Moore, Bind 6Longman, Orme, Brown, Green, and Longmans, 1841 |
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Side 31
... twas sacred from that hour ; When thou didst study him till every tone And gesture and dear look became thy own , - Thy voice like his , the changes of his face In thine reflected with still lovelier grace , Like echo , sending back ...
... twas sacred from that hour ; When thou didst study him till every tone And gesture and dear look became thy own , - Thy voice like his , the changes of his face In thine reflected with still lovelier grace , Like echo , sending back ...
Side 34
... twas a lustre , strange , unreal , wild ; And when she sung to her lute's touching strain , ' Twas like the notes , half ecstasy , half pain , The bulbul * utters , ere her soul depart , 34 LALLA ROOKH .
... twas a lustre , strange , unreal , wild ; And when she sung to her lute's touching strain , ' Twas like the notes , half ecstasy , half pain , The bulbul * utters , ere her soul depart , 34 LALLA ROOKH .
Side 37
... Twas from a brilliant banquet , where the sound Of poesy and music breath'd around , Together picturing to her mind and ear The glories of that heav'n , her destin'd sphere , Where all was pure , where every stain that lay Upon the ...
... Twas from a brilliant banquet , where the sound Of poesy and music breath'd around , Together picturing to her mind and ear The glories of that heav'n , her destin'd sphere , Where all was pure , where every stain that lay Upon the ...
Side 49
... sinful dead , In which the legend o'er Hell's Gate is read , That , new as ' twas from her , whom nought could dim Or sink till now , it startled even him . 66 Ha , my fair Priestess ! " — thus VI . E VEILED PROPHET OF KHORASSAN . 49.
... sinful dead , In which the legend o'er Hell's Gate is read , That , new as ' twas from her , whom nought could dim Or sink till now , it startled even him . 66 Ha , my fair Priestess ! " — thus VI . E VEILED PROPHET OF KHORASSAN . 49.
Side 77
... the names of different countries or cities , as the mode of Isfahan , the mode of Irak , & c . A river which flows near the ruins of Chilminar . In the time of my childhood ' twas like a VEILED PROPHET OF KHORASSAN . 77.
... the names of different countries or cities , as the mode of Isfahan , the mode of Irak , & c . A river which flows near the ruins of Chilminar . In the time of my childhood ' twas like a VEILED PROPHET OF KHORASSAN . 77.
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angels AZIM beautiful beneath bird blest bliss blood bowers breath bride bright brow burning Caliph Cashmere charm cup of Jamshid D'Herbelot dark dead dear death deep Delhi dread dream e'er earth ev'n eyes FADLADEEN falchion FERAMORZ Ferdosi Ferishta fierce fire flame flowers GAZNA Ghebers glory Greek fire HAFED hand Haram hath heart heaven Holy hour hung hyænas Indian IRAN's Isles Khorassan Koran LALLA ROOKH light lips live look look'd lost lov'd lute maid MOKANNA moonlight Moslem mountain Naphtha never night nymph o'er once pale Paradise pass'd PERI Persian poet Princess pure round ruin'd says seem'd shining Shiraz shone sigh skies slave sleep smile soul sparkling spirit stars stood story sunk sweet sword Tahmuras tears thee thine thou throne Tibet tow'rd towers trees turn'd twas veil warrior wave weep wild wings wretch young youth ZELICA Zoroaster
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Side 78 - 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 168 - And now — behold him kneeling there By the child's side, in humble prayer, While the same sun-beam shines upon The guilty and the guiltless one, And hymns of joy proclaim through Heaven \ The triumph of a Soul Forgiven ! \ 'Twas when the golden orb had set, While on their knees they linger'd yet...
Side 78 - There's a bower 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.
Side 209 - 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 153 - said the pitying Spirit, " Dearly ye pay for your primal fall, — Some flow'rets of Eden ye still inherit, But the trail of the Serpent is over them all...
Side 160 - 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 161 - Of ruin'd shrines, busy and bright, As they were all alive with light; — And, yet more splendid, numerous flocks Of pigeons, settling on the rocks, With their rich restless wings, that gleam Variously in the crimson beam Of the warm west — as if inlaid With brilliants from the mine, or made Of tearless rainbows, such as span The unclouded skies of Peristan.
Side 145 - The fig-tree, not that kind for fruit renown'd, But such as, at this day, to Indians known, In Malabar or Decan spreads her arms, Branching so broad and long, that in the ground The bended twigs take root, and daughters grow About the mother tree, a pillar'd shade, High overarch'd, and echoing walks between...
Side 162 - Banqueting through the flowery vales ;And JORDAN, those sweet banks of thine, And woods so full of nightingales ! 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, Had raised to count his ages by...
Side 118 - Th' impostor now, in grinning mockery, shows — "There, ye wise saints, behold your Light, your Star, — Ye would be dupes and victims, and ye are.