The poetical works of Thomas MooreA. and W. Galignani, 1827 - 595 pages |
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Page vi
... heart 344 A Joke versified . 363 Oh ! call it by some better name ib . On Like a snuffers , this loving Poor wounded heart ib . old dame ib The East Indian ib . Factotum Ned . ib . Pale broken flower ib . Country - dance and quadrille ...
... heart 344 A Joke versified . 363 Oh ! call it by some better name ib . On Like a snuffers , this loving Poor wounded heart ib . old dame ib The East Indian ib . Factotum Ned . ib . Pale broken flower ib . Country - dance and quadrille ...
Page vi
... hearts that Ireland can boast , is indeed a triumph that goes to my very heart , and awakens there all that an Irishman ought to feel , whom Irishmen like you have se- lected for such a distinction . — Were my merits a hundred times ...
... hearts that Ireland can boast , is indeed a triumph that goes to my very heart , and awakens there all that an Irishman ought to feel , whom Irishmen like you have se- lected for such a distinction . — Were my merits a hundred times ...
Page xxii
... heart has little to do with it . Hence we observe a kind of fastidious extravagance in Mr Moore's serious poetry . Each thing must be fine , soft , ex- quisite in itself , for it is never set off by reflec- tion or contrast . It ...
... heart has little to do with it . Hence we observe a kind of fastidious extravagance in Mr Moore's serious poetry . Each thing must be fine , soft , ex- quisite in itself , for it is never set off by reflec- tion or contrast . It ...
Page 3
... heart its sheath , And bless the lips that doom'd so dear a death ! In hatred to the Caliph's hue of night , Their vesture , helms and all , is snowy white ; Their weapons various ; -some equipp'd , for speed , With javelins of the ...
... heart its sheath , And bless the lips that doom'd so dear a death ! In hatred to the Caliph's hue of night , Their vesture , helms and all , is snowy white ; Their weapons various ; -some equipp'd , for speed , With javelins of the ...
Page 5
... heart lone and desolate In the wide world , without that only tie For which it loved to live or fear'd to die ; -- Lorn as the hung - up lute , that ne'er hath spoken Since the sad day its master - chord was broken ! Fond maid , the ...
... heart lone and desolate In the wide world , without that only tie For which it loved to live or fear'd to die ; -- Lorn as the hung - up lute , that ne'er hath spoken Since the sad day its master - chord was broken ! Fond maid , the ...
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Common terms and phrases
AIR-The Anacreon angels bard beam beautiful beneath bless'd blest bliss bloom blush bosom bowers breath bright brow burning called Catullus charm Cicero cold creon dark dear death divine dream e'er earth Epicurus epigram Erin eyes fair fancy feel fire flame flowers fond friends glory glow Haram harp hath heart heaven hope hour Irish King kiss Lalla Rookh light lips live look look'd Lord Lord Byron Love's lover lute lyre maid morning ne'er never night nymph o'er once OVID Persian Plato Plutarch poem poet pure rose round Sappho seem'd shade shed shine sigh sleep smile song sorrow soul sparkling spirit Sprite star steal sweet tears tell thee there's thine THOMAS MOORE thou thought turn'd warm wave weep wild wings words young youth και
Popular passages
Page 328 - 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.
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 lov-ed ne'er spoke again, For he tore its chords asunder ; And said, " No chains shall sully thee, Thou soul of love and bravery ! Thy songs were made for the pure and free, They shall never sound in slavery...
Page 318 - Those joyous hours are passed away ; And many a heart, that then was gay, Within the tomb now darkly dwells, And hears no more those evening bells. And so 'twill be when I am gone ; That tuneful peal will still ring on, While other bards shall walk these dells, And sing your praise, sweet evening bells ! Moore.
Page 303 - 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.
Page 328 - But Thou wilt heal that broken heart, Which, like the plants that throw Their fragrance from the wounded part, Breathes sweetness out of woe.
Page 302 - FAREWELL !— but whenever you welcome the hour That awakens the night-song of mirth in your bower, Then think of the friend who once welcomed it too, And forgot his own griefs to be happy with you.
Page 12 - 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.
Page 58 - A gem away, that thou hadst sworn Should ever in thy heart be worn. Come, if the love thou hast for me Is pure and fresh as mine for thee, — Fresh as the fountain under ground When first 'tis by the lapwing found.
Page 327 - When night, with wings of starry gloom, O'ershadows all the earth and skies, Like some dark, beauteous bird, whose plume Is sparkling with unnumbered eyes, That sacred gloom, those fires divine, So grand, so countless. Lord! are thine.
Page 294 - O'er whom a wond'ring world shall weep ! AFTER THE BATTLE. NIGHT clos'd around the conqueror's way, And lightnings show'd the distant hill, Where those who lost that dreadful day, Stood few and faint, but fearless still. The soldier's hope, the patriot's zeal, For ever dimm'd, for ever crost — Oh ! who shall say what heroes feel, When all but life and honour's lost...