The Works of Thomas Moore, Esq, Volume 2 |
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Page 16
... twas time - in youthful days , To cool the season's burning rays , The heart may let its wanton wing Repose awhile in pleasure's spring , But , if it wait for winter's breeze , The spring will dry , the heart will freeze ! And then ...
... twas time - in youthful days , To cool the season's burning rays , The heart may let its wanton wing Repose awhile in pleasure's spring , But , if it wait for winter's breeze , The spring will dry , the heart will freeze ! And then ...
Page 21
... Twas heav'n to hear its fairy lays , If half be true that legends tell . ' Twas play'd on by the gentlest sighs , And to their breath it breath'd again In such entrancing melodies As ear had never drunk till then ! Not harmony's ...
... Twas heav'n to hear its fairy lays , If half be true that legends tell . ' Twas play'd on by the gentlest sighs , And to their breath it breath'd again In such entrancing melodies As ear had never drunk till then ! Not harmony's ...
Page 22
Thomas Moore. ' Twas there , at twilight time , she stole So oft , to make the dear - one bless'd , Whom love had giv'n her virgin soul , And nature soon gave all the rest ! It chanc'd that in the fairy bower Where they had found their ...
Thomas Moore. ' Twas there , at twilight time , she stole So oft , to make the dear - one bless'd , Whom love had giv'n her virgin soul , And nature soon gave all the rest ! It chanc'd that in the fairy bower Where they had found their ...
Page 30
... Twas one of those enchanting dreams , That lull me oft , when music seems . * Norfolk , it must be owned , is an unfavourable specimen of America . The characteristics of Vir ginia in general are not such as cau delight either the ...
... Twas one of those enchanting dreams , That lull me oft , when music seems . * Norfolk , it must be owned , is an unfavourable specimen of America . The characteristics of Vir ginia in general are not such as cau delight either the ...
Page 69
... twas my doom to err with one In every look so like to thee , That , oh ! beneath the blessed sun , So fair there are but thou and she ! Whate'er may be her angel birth , She was thy lovely perfect twin , And wore the only shape on earth ...
... twas my doom to err with one In every look so like to thee , That , oh ! beneath the blessed sun , So fair there are but thou and she ! Whate'er may be her angel birth , She was thy lovely perfect twin , And wore the only shape on earth ...
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Achilles Tatius ancient Apuleius Aristippus bard beam beauty beneath Bermuda blessed blest bliss bloom blush bosom bower breath breeze bright brow burning charm cheek Cicero clime dear Dismal Swamp Dithyrambic divine dream earth Epicurus Euripides eyes fair fancy feel fire flame flowers French Encyclopédistes Geoponica glow grace hath heart heaven heavenly Hebe heptachord Heraclitus hour hung isle kiss Leontium light look lov'd luxury lyre magic maid mingle morning murmurs ne'er never night nymph o'er Ovid Pausanias philosophers Pindar Plato play'd Plutarch Psyche pure Pythagoras rosy round says seem'd shade shed shine sigh sigh'd sleep smile soft song soul spirit spring sung sweet sweetest sweetly tear tell thee thine thou thought thrill trembling Twas wandering warm wave weep wild wind wing δε εν και τε το
Popular passages
Page 47 - 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, "She paddles her white canoe.
Page 48 - 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 ! 128 THE LAKE OF THE DISMAL SWAMP.
Page 182 - 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 was humble might hope for it here...
Page 202 - Rapids are 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' tide ! this trembling moon Shall see us float over thy surges soon.
Page 182 - By the shade of yon sumach, whose red berry dips In the gush of the fountain, how sweet to recline, And to know that I sigh'd upon innocent lips, Which had never been sigh'd on by any but mine !
Page 48 - He saw the Lake, and a meteor bright Quick over its surface play'd— "Welcome," he said, "my dear one's light!
Page 30 - Virtue ! when thy clime I seek, Let not my spirit's flight be weak : Let me not, like this feeble thing, With brine still dropping from its wing, Just sparkle in the solar glow And plunge again to depths below. But, when I leave the grosser throng With whom my soul hath dwelt so long, Let me, in that aspiring day, Cast every lingering stain away, And, panting for thy purer air, Fly up at once and fix me there.
Page 170 - Rank without ripeness, quicken'd without sun, Crude at the surface, rotten at the core, Her fruits would fall, before her spring were o'er ! Believe me, Spencer, while I wing'd the hours Where Schuylkill undulates through banks of flowers.
Page 206 - Where the blue hills of old Toronto shed Their evening shadows o'er Ontario's bed ! — Should trace the grand Cadaraqui, and glide Down the white rapids of his lordly tide Through massy woods, through islets flowering fair, Through shades of bloom, where the first sinful pair For consolation might have weeping trod, When banish'd from the garden of their God ! Oh, Lady ! these are miracles, which man Cag'd in the bounds of Europe's pigmy plan.
Page 47 - They tell of a young man, who lost his mind upon the death of a girl he loved, and who, suddenly disappearing from his friends, wag never afterwards heard of. As he had frequently said, in his ravings, that the girl was not dead, but gone to the Dismal Swamp, it is supposed he had wandered into that dreary wilderness, and had died of hunger, or been lost in some of its dreadful morasses.