The poetical works of Thomas Moore |
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Side 28
When , young and haply pure as thou , I look'd and pray'd like thee - but now— » He hung his head - each nobler aim And hope and feeling , which had slept From boyhood's hour , that instant came Fresh o'er him , and he wept - he wept !
When , young and haply pure as thou , I look'd and pray'd like thee - but now— » He hung his head - each nobler aim And hope and feeling , which had slept From boyhood's hour , that instant came Fresh o'er him , and he wept - he wept !
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Anacreon ancient angels appears arms beauty believe beneath bless bliss blush breath bright brow called charm dark dear death divine dream earth epigram eyes fair fall fancy fear feel felt fire flame flowers give given glory glow grace half hand happy hath head heart Heaven hope hour kind King kiss leave letter light lips live look Lord lost maid meet mind morning nature never night o'er once pass Persian poem poet pure rest rose round says seen shade shed shine sigh sleep smile song soon soul spirit sweet tear tell thee thine things thou thought translation true turn wandering warm whole wild wing wish young youth
Populære passager
Side 328 - When hastening fondly home, Ne'er stoops to earth her wing, nor flies Where idle warblers roam. But high she shoots through air and light, Above all low delay, Where nothing earthly bounds her flight, Nor shadow dims her way.
Side 301 - 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 318 - 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 303 - Then come o'er the sea, Maiden, with me, Come wherever the wild wind blows ; Seasons may roll, But the true soul Burns the same, where'er it goes. "Was not the Sea Made for the Free, Land for courts and chains alone ? Here we are slaves, But, on the waves, Love and liberty's all our own.
Side 328 - But Thou wilt heal that broken heart, Which, like the plants that throw Their fragrance from the wounded part, Breathes sweetness out of woe.
Side 302 - FAREWELL !— but whenever you welcome the hour That awakens the night-song of mirth in your bower, Then think of the friend who once welcomed it too, And forgot his own griefs to be happy with you.
Side 12 - 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 58 - A gem away, that thou hadst sworn Should ever in thy heart be worn. Come, if the love thou hast for me Is pure and fresh as mine for thee, — Fresh as the fountain under ground When first 'tis by the lapwing found.
Side 327 - When night, with wings of starry gloom, O'ershadows all the earth and skies, Like some dark, beauteous bird, whose plume Is sparkling with unnumbered eyes, That sacred gloom, those fires divine, So grand, so countless. Lord! are thine.
Side 294 - O'er whom a wond'ring world shall weep ! AFTER THE BATTLE. NIGHT clos'd around the conqueror's way, And lightnings show'd the distant hill, Where those who lost that dreadful day, Stood few and faint, but fearless still. The soldier's hope, the patriot's zeal, For ever dimm'd, for ever crost — Oh ! who shall say what heroes feel, When all but life and honour's lost...