The poetical works of Thomas MooreCrissy and Grigg, 1829 - 408 pages |
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Page iii
... wave . On seeing an infant in Nea's arms Impromptu upon leaving some friends 109 EPISTLE VIII . To the Rt . Hon . W. R. Spencer ib . A Warning . 110 The Snow Spirit I stole along the flowery bank To --- " T is time , I feel , to leave ...
... wave . On seeing an infant in Nea's arms Impromptu upon leaving some friends 109 EPISTLE VIII . To the Rt . Hon . W. R. Spencer ib . A Warning . 110 The Snow Spirit I stole along the flowery bank To --- " T is time , I feel , to leave ...
Page vii
... wave benighted . ib . They know not my heart ib . I wish I was by that dim lake ib . She sung of love , -while o'er her lyre . 317 When the first summer bee . - German Air . Though ' t is all but a dream . - French Air . " T is when the ...
... wave benighted . ib . They know not my heart ib . I wish I was by that dim lake ib . She sung of love , -while o'er her lyre . 317 When the first summer bee . - German Air . Though ' t is all but a dream . - French Air . " T is when the ...
Page xxxiii
... wave aloft in morning's beam The milk - white plumage of their helms , they seem Like a chenar - tree grove , ( 28 ) when Winter throws Øer all its tufted heads his feathering snows . Between the porphyry pillars , that uphold The rich ...
... wave aloft in morning's beam The milk - white plumage of their helms , they seem Like a chenar - tree grove , ( 28 ) when Winter throws Øer all its tufted heads his feathering snows . Between the porphyry pillars , that uphold The rich ...
Page xxxiii
... wave When beckoning to their bowers the Immortal Brave . Ere the white war - plume o'er thy brow can wave ; ― But , once my own , mine all till in the grave ! The pomp is at an end , the crowds are gone- Each ear and heart still haunted ...
... wave When beckoning to their bowers the Immortal Brave . Ere the white war - plume o'er thy brow can wave ; ― But , once my own , mine all till in the grave ! The pomp is at an end , the crowds are gone- Each ear and heart still haunted ...
Page xxxiii
... wave , But not to point the harbour which might save . Hours of delight and peace , long left behind , With that dear form caine rushing o'er her mind ; But oh ! to think how deep her soul had gone In shame and falsehood since those ...
... wave , But not to point the harbour which might save . Hours of delight and peace , long left behind , With that dear form caine rushing o'er her mind ; But oh ! to think how deep her soul had gone In shame and falsehood since those ...
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Common terms and phrases
Anacreon ancient angels Bacchus bard beam beautiful beneath bless blest bliss bloom blush bosom bowers breath bright brow burning called Catullus charm creon dark dear death delight divine dream e'er earth Epicurus epigram eyes fair fancy feel fire flame flowers glory glow grace hath heart Heaven holy hope hour Irish King kiss Lady Morgan Lalla Rookh light lips live look look'd Lord Lord Byron lyre maid Moore morning ne'er never night Note nymph o'er Persian Philostratus Pindar Plato poem poet rose rosy round says seem'd shade shed shine sigh sleep smile song soul spirit sweet tears tears of wine tell thee thine things Thomas Moore thou thought throne translation trembling turn'd twine vellum warm weep Whigs wild wing words young youth δε και
Popular passages
Page 320 - 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 dimm'd and gone, The cheerful hearts now broken ! Thus in the stilly night Ere slumber's chain lias bound me, Sad Memory brings the light Of other days around me.
Page 333 - The friends, who in our sunshine live, When winter comes, are flown; And he who has but tears to give, Must weep those tears alone.
Page 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 loved ne'er spoke again, For he tore its chords asunder...
Page 285 - OH ! BREATHE NOT HIS NAME. AIR — The Brown Maid. On ! breathe not his name, let it sleep in the shade, Where cold and unhonour'd his relics are laid : Sad, silent, and dark be the tears that we shed, As the night-dew that falls on the grass o'er his head...
Page 285 - No ; — life is a waste of wearisome hours, Which seldom the rose of enjoyment adorns ; And the heart that is soonest awake to the flowers. Is always the first to be touch'd by the thorns.
Page 57 - There's a bliss beyond all that the minstrel has told, When two, that are linked in one heavenly tie, With heart never changing, and brow never cold, Love on through all ills, and love on till they die...
Page 285 - OH ! think not my spirits are always as light, And as free from a pang as they seem to you now ; Nor expect that the heart-beaming smile of to-night Will return with to-morrow to brighten my brow. No : — life is a waste of wearisome hours, Which seldom the rose of enjoyment adorns...
Page 301 - Then awake! — the heavens look bright, my dear, Tis never too late for delight, my dear, And the best of all ways To lengthen our days, Is to steal a few hours from the night, my dear...
Page 302 - Like the vase in which roses have once been distilled — You may break, you may shatter the vase if you will, But the scent of the roses will hang round it still.
Page 27 - Cheer'd by this hope, she bends her thither ; — Still laughs the radiant eye of heaven, Nor have the golden bowers of even In the rich west begun to wither ; — When, o'er the vale of Balbec winging Slowly, she sees a child at play, Among the rosy wild-flowers singing, As rosy and as wild as they ; Chasing...