The works of Thomas Moore, comprehending all his melodies, ballads, etc, Volume 21823 |
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Page v
... sigh A Ballad . — The lake of the dismal swamp . · • • hour 43 45 • EPISTLE III . To the Marchioness Dowager of D —— ll . - To the Marchioness Dowager of D - ll The Genius of Harmony . - An irregular Ode EPISTLE IV . - To George Morgan ...
... sigh A Ballad . — The lake of the dismal swamp . · • • hour 43 45 • EPISTLE III . To the Marchioness Dowager of D —— ll . - To the Marchioness Dowager of D - ll The Genius of Harmony . - An irregular Ode EPISTLE IV . - To George Morgan ...
Page vii
... sighs ? Song of the Evil Spirit of the woods Impromptu upon leaving some friends How can I sing of fragrant · To Mrs. Henry T - ghe , on reading her " Psyche " . 219 . 214 . 216 • 222 EPISTLE VIII . To the Honourable W. R , Spencer ...
... sighs ? Song of the Evil Spirit of the woods Impromptu upon leaving some friends How can I sing of fragrant · To Mrs. Henry T - ghe , on reading her " Psyche " . 219 . 214 . 216 • 222 EPISTLE VIII . To the Honourable W. R , Spencer ...
Page 18
... sigh ; When the saddest emotion my bosom had known , Was pity for those who were wiser than I ! I felt how the pure , intellectual fire In luxury 18 EPISTLES , Odes , Stanzas -A beam of tranquillity smiled in the west.
... sigh ; When the saddest emotion my bosom had known , Was pity for those who were wiser than I ! I felt how the pure , intellectual fire In luxury 18 EPISTLES , Odes , Stanzas -A beam of tranquillity smiled in the west.
Page 20
... sighs , And to their breath it breathed again In such entrancing melodies As ear had never drunk till then ! Not ... sigh , serene and light , Was but the breath of fancied woes , The string , that felt its airy flight , Soon whisper ...
... sighs , And to their breath it breathed again In such entrancing melodies As ear had never drunk till then ! Not ... sigh , serene and light , Was but the breath of fancied woes , The string , that felt its airy flight , Soon whisper ...
Page 22
... sighs unanswer'd stole , Nor changed the sweet , the treasured tone . Unhappy nymph ! thy name was sung To every passing lip that sigh'd ; The secrets of thy gentle tongue On every ear in murmurs died ! The fatal Lyre , by Envy's hand ...
... sighs unanswer'd stole , Nor changed the sweet , the treasured tone . Unhappy nymph ! thy name was sung To every passing lip that sigh'd ; The secrets of thy gentle tongue On every ear in murmurs died ! The fatal Lyre , by Envy's hand ...
Common terms and phrases
Achilles Tatius ancient ARISTIPPUS ARISTOTLE bard beam beauty beneath Bermuda blessed blest bliss bloom blush bosom bower breast breath breeze bright brow burning charm cheek CICERO clime dear Dismal Swamp Dithyrambic divine dream earth Epicurean Epicurus fair fancy feel fire flame flowers glow grace hath heart Heaven heptachord hour hung isle JOSEPH ATKINSON kiss kiss'd Lady lamp languid Leontium light look look'd lover lyre magic maid Mamurra mingle morning murmurs ne'er never night nymph o'er PAULUS SILENTIARIUS PAUSANIAS philosophers Pindar Plato play'd PLUTARCH pure Pythagoras rapture repose round roves says seem'd shade shed shine sigh sigh'd sleep smile soft song soul spirit spring steal Stoics stole sweet sweetly tear tell thee thine thou thought trace Twas twine warm wave weep wing δε και μεν τε ΤΟ
Popular passages
Page 262 - 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.
Page 46 - THEY made her a grave, too cold and damp " For a soul so warm and true; " And she's gone to the Lake of the Dismal Swamp,* " Where, all night long, by a fire-fly lamp,
Page 185 - ALONE by the Schuylkill a wanderer roved, And bright were its flowery banks to his eye ; But far, very far were the friends that he loved. And he gazed on its flowery banks with a sigh ! Oh Nature ! though blessed and bright are thy rays, O'er the brow of creation enchantingly thrown, Yet faint are they all to the lustre that plays In a smile from the heart that is dearly our own ! Nor long did the soul of the stranger remain...
Page 268 - I dreamt not then that, ere the rolling year Had fill'd its circle, I should wander here In musing awe ; should tread this wondrous world, See all its store of inland waters hurl'd In one vast volume down Niagara's steep, Or calm behold them, in transparent sleep, Where the blue hills of old Toronto shed Their evening shadows o'er Ontario's bed...
Page 263 - The rapids arc near and the daylight's past. 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
Page 242 - I KNEW by the smoke, that so gracefully curled Above the green elms, that a cottage was near, And I said, " If there's peace to be found in the world, A heart that is humble might hope for it here...
Page 224 - I believe this is the finest confluence in the world. The two rivers are much of the same breadth, each about half a league ; but the Missouri is by far the most rapid, and seems to enter the Mississippi like a conqueror, through which it carries its white waves to the opposite shore without mixing them : afterwards it gives its colour to the Mississippi, which it never loses again, but carries quite down to the sea."— Letter xxvii.
Page 262 - I remember when we have entered, at sunset, upon one of those beautiful lakes, into which the St. Lawrence so grandly and unexpectedly opens, I have heard this simple air with a pleasure which the finest compositions of the first masters have never given me...
Page 286 - But eloquence glows on your lip When you swear that you'll love me for ever. Thus you see what a brilliant alliance Of arts is assembled in you, — A course of more exquisite science Man never need wish to pursue.
Page 47 - When the footstep of death is near !" Away to the Dismal Swamp he speeds — His path was rugged and sore, Through tangled juniper, beds of reeds, Through many a fen, where the serpent feeds, And man never trod before ! And when on the earth he sunk to sleep, If slumber his eyelids knew, He lay, where the deadly vine doth weep Its venomous tear, and nightly steep The flesh with blistering dew ! And near him the she-wolf...