Poetical works, with a life of the author (abridged from W. Howitt).Routledge, Warne and Routledge, 1859 |
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Side xxiv
... youth was born October , 1818 , and died March , 1846 , so that he was in his eight - and - twentieth year . His father had purchased an ensigncy and lieutenancy in suc- cession for him . He went to serve in India , where dissi- pation ...
... youth was born October , 1818 , and died March , 1846 , so that he was in his eight - and - twentieth year . His father had purchased an ensigncy and lieutenancy in suc- cession for him . He went to serve in India , where dissi- pation ...
Side 6
... youth , I pray thee , What in purchase shall I pay thee For this little waxen toy , Image of the Paphian boy ? ” Thus I said the other day , To a youth who pass'd my way : " Sir , " ( he answer'd , and the while Answer'd all in Doric ...
... youth , I pray thee , What in purchase shall I pay thee For this little waxen toy , Image of the Paphian boy ? ” Thus I said the other day , To a youth who pass'd my way : " Sir , " ( he answer'd , and the while Answer'd all in Doric ...
Side 10
... ODE XVII . AND now with all thy pencil's truth , Portray Bathyllus , lovely youth ! Let his hair , in lapses bright , Fall like streaming rays of light ; And there the raven's dye confuse With the yellow sunbeam's 10 MOORE .
... ODE XVII . AND now with all thy pencil's truth , Portray Bathyllus , lovely youth ! Let his hair , in lapses bright , Fall like streaming rays of light ; And there the raven's dye confuse With the yellow sunbeam's 10 MOORE .
Side 20
... own ; ' Twas he who gave that voice to thee , " Tis he who tunes thy minstrelsy . Unworn by age's dim decline , The fadeless blooms of youth are thine . Melodious insect ! child of earth ! In wisdom mirthful 20 MOORE . 20.
... own ; ' Twas he who gave that voice to thee , " Tis he who tunes thy minstrelsy . Unworn by age's dim decline , The fadeless blooms of youth are thine . Melodious insect ! child of earth ! In wisdom mirthful 20 MOORE . 20.
Side 25
... youth the while , with loosen'd hair , Floating on the listless air , Sings , to the wild harp's tender tone , A tale of woes , alas ! his own ; And then what nectar in his sigh , As o'er his lip the murmurs die ! Surely never yet has ...
... youth the while , with loosen'd hair , Floating on the listless air , Sings , to the wild harp's tender tone , A tale of woes , alas ! his own ; And then what nectar in his sigh , As o'er his lip the murmurs die ! Surely never yet has ...
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Poetical Works, with a Life of the Author (Abridged from W. Howitt) Thomas Moore Ingen forhåndsvisning - 2015 |
Almindelige termer og sætninger
Anacreon Bacchus beam beauty beneath Bermuda blest bliss bloom blushing bosom bowers bowl breast breath breeze bright Bromham brow burning Catullus charm cheek dark dear death delight Devizes divine Donnington Park dream e'en earth Erin eyes fair fancy feel fire flame flowers friends glance glory glow gold grace harp hath heart heaven hour hung kiss Lalla Rookh light lips live look look'd Lord Lord Byron Lord John Russell Lord Lansdowne Lord Moira lover lyre maid mingle Moore morning ne'er never night nymph o'er once Persian poet rose rosy round rove seem'd shade shed shine sigh sing sleep slumber smile soft song soul sparkling spirit steal sweet tear tears of wine tell thee thine thou thought trembling Twas twine vermil wanton warm wave weep wild wind wine wing young youth
Populære passager
Side 238 - Which come in the night-time of sorrow and care, And bring back the features that joy used to wear. Long, long be my heart with such memories...
Side 264 - When youthful spring around us breathes, Thy spirit warms her fragrant sigh ; And every flower the summer wreathes Is born beneath that kindling eye. Where'er we turn, thy glories shine, And all things fair and bright are thine.
Side 206 - 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.
Side 190 - FAINTLY as tolls the evening chime Our voices keep tune and our oars keep time. Soon as the woods on shore look dim, We'll sing at St. Ann's our parting hymn. "Row, brothers, row, the stream runs fast, 'The rapids are near and the daylight's past.
Side 271 - Praise to the Conqueror, praise to the Lord ! His word was our arrow, his breath was our sword. Who shall return to tell Egypt the story Of those she sent forth in the hour of her pride ? For the Lord hath looked out from his pillar of glory, And all her brave thousands are dashed in the tide. Sound the loud timbrel o'er Egypt's dark sea ! Jehovah hath triumphed, — his people are free ! FIFE AND DRUM.
Side 346 - twas a sight, — that heaven, that child, A scene, which might have well beguiled Even haughty Eblis of a sigh For glories lost and peace gone by! And how felt he, the wretched man Reclining there, while memory ran O'er many a year of guilt and strife, — Flew o'er the dark flood of his life, Nor found one sunny resting-place, Nor brought him back one branch of grace. "There was a time," he said, in mild, Heart-humbled tones, "thou blessed child!
Side 267 - THE BIRD, LET LOOSE. (AIR. — BEETHOVEN. ) THE bird, let loose in eastern skies,* 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 271 - 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 241 - 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 360 - 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 ! Now too — the joy most like divine Of all I ever dreamt or knew.