The Poetical Works of Thomas Moore: Lalla Rookh

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Longman, Orme, Brown, Green, and Longmans, 1841
 

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Side 218 - 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 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 ; Thus bright to my soul, as 'twas then to my eyes, Is that bower on the banks of the calm Bendemeer...
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 180 - Soften'd his spirit) look'd and lay, Watching the rosy infant's play : — Though still, whene'er his eye by chance Fell on the boy's, its lurid glance Met that unclouded, joyous gaze, As torches, that have burnt all night Through some impure and godless rite^ Encounter morning's glorious rays, But hark ! the vesper call to prayer, As slow the orb of daylight sets, Is rising sweetly on the air, From Syria's thousand minarets...
Side 176 - 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 177 - 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 156 - Mid flowers that never shall fade or fall ; Though mine are the gardens of earth and sea, And the stars themselves have flowers for me. One blossom of Heaven outblooms them all ! " Though sunny the Lake of cool Cashmere, With its plane-tree Isle reflected clear, And sweetly the founts of that Valley fall ; Though bright are the waters of...
Side 169 - Some flow'rets of Eden ye still inherit, But the trail of the serpent is over them all!
Side 179 - mid the roses lay, She saw a wearied man dismount From his hot steed, and on the brink Of a small imaret's rustic fount Impatient fling him down to drink. Then swift his haggard brow he turn~d To the fair child, who fearless sat, Though never yet hath daybeam burn'd Upon a brow more fierce than that...
Side 180 - Upon a brow more fierce than that, — Sullenly fierce — a mixture dire, Like thunder-clouds of gloom and fire, In which the Peri's eye could read Dark tales of many a ruthless deed ; The...

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