The works of Thomas Moore, Volume 11832 |
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Page xxix
... For death may come with brow unpleasant , May come when least we wish him present , And beckon to the sable shore , And grimly bid us - drink no More ! We here terminate the Biographical part of our sketch ; A SKETCH OF THOMAS MOORE . xxix.
... For death may come with brow unpleasant , May come when least we wish him present , And beckon to the sable shore , And grimly bid us - drink no More ! We here terminate the Biographical part of our sketch ; A SKETCH OF THOMAS MOORE . xxix.
Page xl
... brow , he always wore a veil of silver gauze , and was at last attacked by the Caliph , and exterminated with all his adherents . On this story Mr Moore has engrafted a romantic and not very pro- bable tale : yet , even with all its ...
... brow , he always wore a veil of silver gauze , and was at last attacked by the Caliph , and exterminated with all his adherents . On this story Mr Moore has engrafted a romantic and not very pro- bable tale : yet , even with all its ...
Page 11
... brows , and , having refreshed his faculties with a dose of that delicious opium which is distilled from the black poppy of the Thebais , gave orders for the minstrel to be forthwith introduced into the presence . The Princess , who had ...
... brows , and , having refreshed his faculties with a dose of that delicious opium which is distilled from the black poppy of the Thebais , gave orders for the minstrel to be forthwith introduced into the presence . The Princess , who had ...
Page 13
... brow , till man could bear its light . For , far less luminous , his votaries said , Were ev'n the gleams , miraculously shed * Khorassan signifies , in the old Persian language , Province , or Region of the Sun. - SIR W. JONES . + One ...
... brow , till man could bear its light . For , far less luminous , his votaries said , Were ev'n the gleams , miraculously shed * Khorassan signifies , in the old Persian language , Province , or Region of the Sun. - SIR W. JONES . + One ...
Page 22
... brow can wave ; - " But , once iny own , mine all till in the grave ! " The Pomp is at an end , the crowds are gone- Each ear and heart still haunted by the tone Of that deep voice , which thrill'd like ALLA's own ! The Young all ...
... brow can wave ; - " But , once iny own , mine all till in the grave ! " The Pomp is at an end , the crowds are gone- Each ear and heart still haunted by the tone Of that deep voice , which thrill'd like ALLA's own ! The Young all ...
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Common terms and phrases
Anacreon angels Arab bard beautiful beneath bird bliss blood bowers breath bright brow burning Caliph called Cashmere charm cheek dark dead dear death deep Delhi delightful dread dream earth eyes FADLADEEN falchion feel FERAMORZ fire flame flowers gardens Genii genius Ghebers glory gold HAFED Haram hath heart Heaven holy hour hyæna Indian IRAN's Khorassan King Koran Lake LALLA ROOKH light lips live look look'd Lord Byron lover lute maid minstrels MOKANNA moonlight Moore Moore's mountain Naptha never night NOURMAHAL o'er once PERI Persian poem poet poetry Princess pure round SCOTT WARING seem'd shining SHIRAZ shone sigh skies slave sleep smile song soul sound sparkling spirit star sunk sweet sword Tahmuras tears thee thine Thomas Moore thou thought throne Tibet Transoxiania tree turn'd Twas veil wave Waved plates wild wings wonder wretch young youth ZELICA
Popular passages
Page 299 - Alas — how light a cause may move Dissension between hearts that love ! Hearts that the world in vain had tried, And sorrow but more closely tied ; That stood the storm, when waves were rough, Yet in a sunny hour fall off, Like ships, that have gone down at sea, When Heaven was all tranquillity...
Page 66 - And a dew was distill'd from their flowers, that gave All the fragrance of summer, when summer was gone. Thus memory draws from delight, ere it dies, An essence that breathes of it many a year ; Thus bright to my soul, as 'twas then to my eyes, Is that bower on the banks of the calm BENDEMEER.
Page 65 - twas like a sweet dream, To sit in the roses and hear the bird's song. That bower and its music I never forget, But oft when alone, in the bloom of the year, I think — is the nightingale singing there yet ? Are the roses still bright by the calm BENDEMEER...
Page 154 - mid the roses lay, She saw a wearied man dismount From his hot steed, and on the brink Of a small imaret's rustic fount Impatient fling him down to drink. Then swift his haggard brow he turn'd To the fair child, who fearless sat, Though never yet hath daybeam burn'd Upon a brow more fierce than that...
Page xxxix - Who, as they sung, would take the prison'd soul, And lap it in Elysium; Scylla wept, And chid her barking waves into attention, And fell Charybdis...
Page 133 - PARADISE AND THE PERI. ONE morn a Peri at the gate Of Eden stood, disconsolate ; And as she listened to the Springs Of Life within, like music flowing, And caught the light upon her wings Through the half-open portal glowing, She wept to think her recreant race Should e'er have lost that glorious place !
Page 147 - I'd shed it all, To give thy brow one minute's calm. Nay, turn not from me that dear face — Am I not thine — thy own loved bride — The one, the chosen one, whose place In life or death is by thy side ! • Think'st thou that she, whose only light, In this dim world, from thee hath shone, Could bear the long, the cheerless night, That must be hers, when thou art gone ? That I can live, and let thee go, Who art my life itself? — No, no — When the stem dies, the leaf that grew Out of its heart...
Page 157 - Flew o'er the dark flood of his life, Nor found one sunny resting-place, Nor brought him back one branch of grace ?
Page 156 - Lisping th' eternal name of God From purity's own cherub mouth, And looking, while his hands and eyes Are lifted to the glowing skies, Like a stray babe of Paradise, Just lighted on that flowery plain, And seeking for its home again...
Page 139 - Downward the Peri turns her gaze, And through the war-field's bloody haze Beholds a youthful warrior stand Alone beside his native river. The red blade broken in his hand And the last arrow in his quiver. "Live," said the conqueror, "live to share The trophies and the crowns I bear!