Thomas Moore's Complete Poetical WorksCrowell, 1895 - 800 sider |
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Side xv
... given , 212 212 213 213 Tho ' Humble the Banquet • · 213 • Sing , Sweet Harp . 214 Song of the Battle Eve 214 • The Wandering Bard . 215 Remember Thee Wreath the Bowl Alone in Crowds to wander on . 215 I've a Secret to tell Thee • 215 ...
... given , 212 212 213 213 Tho ' Humble the Banquet • · 213 • Sing , Sweet Harp . 214 Song of the Battle Eve 214 • The Wandering Bard . 215 Remember Thee Wreath the Bowl Alone in Crowds to wander on . 215 I've a Secret to tell Thee • 215 ...
Side 7
... of this epitaph , Calius Calcagninus , has translated or imitated the epigrams eis τὴν Μύρωνος Βοῦν , which are given under the name of Anacreon . It has been supposed by some writers that Anacreon and REMARKS ON ANACREON . 7.
... of this epitaph , Calius Calcagninus , has translated or imitated the epigrams eis τὴν Μύρωνος Βοῦν , which are given under the name of Anacreon . It has been supposed by some writers that Anacreon and REMARKS ON ANACREON . 7.
Side 12
... given by Gail of all the different editions and translations of Anacreon . Finding their number to be much greater than I could possibly have had an opportunity of consulting , I shall here content myself with enumerating only those ...
... given by Gail of all the different editions and translations of Anacreon . Finding their number to be much greater than I could possibly have had an opportunity of consulting , I shall here content myself with enumerating only those ...
Side 21
... given by some of the ancients to the goddess Isis , he says , " Nor will I swear , but that Anacreon ( a man very judicious in the provoking motives of wanton love ) , intending to bestow on his sweet mistress that one of the titles of ...
... given by some of the ancients to the goddess Isis , he says , " Nor will I swear , but that Anacreon ( a man very judicious in the provoking motives of wanton love ) , intending to bestow on his sweet mistress that one of the titles of ...
Side 27
... given to love alone ! " Indignant at the feeble lay , I tore the panting chords away , 2 Nay , sandals for those airy feet- Even to be trod by them were sweet ! The sophist Philostratus , in one of his love- letters , has borrowed this ...
... given to love alone ! " Indignant at the feeble lay , I tore the panting chords away , 2 Nay , sandals for those airy feet- Even to be trod by them were sweet ! The sophist Philostratus , in one of his love- letters , has borrowed this ...
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Achilles Tatius Anacreon ancient Aulus Gellius Bacchus bard beam beautiful beneath bless blest bliss bloom blushing bower breath bright brow burning called Catullus charm Cicero Cupid dance dark dear death divine dream e'er earth Epicurus epigram eyes fair fancy feel fire flame flowers friends glory glow grace hand hath heart heaven hope hour Irish King kiss LALLA ROOKH light lips live look Lord Love's lover lute lyre maid morning ne'er never night nymph o'er once Persian Pindar Plato poem poet rose rosy round Sappho shade shed shine shone sigh sing sleep smile song soul sparkling spirit star sweet tears tell thee there's thine things thought thro throne turn Twixt wave weep Whig wild wine wings words young youth δὲ καὶ τὸ
Populære passager
Side 224 - 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 dimmed 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 186 - He had lived for his love, for his country he died, They were all that to life had entwined him ; Nor soon shall the tears of his country be dried, Nor long will his love stay behind him.
Side 174 - 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 464 - WHO has not heard of the Vale of CASHMERE, With its roses, the brightest that earth ever gave, * Its temples, and grottos, and fountains as clear As the love-lighted eyes that hang over their wave...
Side 153 - Why should we yet our sail unfurl? There is not a breath the blue wave to curl; But, when the wind blows off the shore, Oh! sweetly we'll rest our weary oar. Blow, breezes, blow, the stream runs fast, The Rapids are near and the daylight's past. Utawas' tide ! this trembling moon Shall see us float over thy surges soon.
Side 468 - And ruder words will soon rush in To spread the breach that words begin ; And eyes forget the gentle ray They wore in courtship's smiling day ; And voices lose the tone that shed A tenderness round all they said; Till fast declining, one by one, The sweetnesses of love are gone...
Side 222 - 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 244 - And Miriam the prophetess, the sister of Aaron, took a timbrel in her hand ; and all the women went out after her with timbrels and with dances. And Miriam answered them, Sing ye to the LORD, for he hath triumphed gloriously ; the horse and his rider hath he thrown into the sea.
Side 435 - 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 171 - 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.