The poetical works of Thomas Moore, with illustr. by K. Halswelle1863 |
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Page xix
... sounds the harp when the combat is over , " MELOLOGUE upon National Music - Advertisement ' There breathes a language , known and felt , " 66 THE ODES OF ANACREON : — I. " I saw the smiling bard of pleasure , " II . " Give me the harp ...
... sounds the harp when the combat is over , " MELOLOGUE upon National Music - Advertisement ' There breathes a language , known and felt , " 66 THE ODES OF ANACREON : — I. " I saw the smiling bard of pleasure , " II . " Give me the harp ...
Page xxii
... Sound the loud timbrel o'er Egypt's dark sea , " . 423 66 Go , let me weep - there's bliss in tears , " 423 " Come not , O Lord , in the dread robe of splendour , ” 424 SACRED SONGS- ( continued . ) " Were not the xxii CONTENTS .
... Sound the loud timbrel o'er Egypt's dark sea , " . 423 66 Go , let me weep - there's bliss in tears , " 423 " Come not , O Lord , in the dread robe of splendour , ” 424 SACRED SONGS- ( continued . ) " Were not the xxii CONTENTS .
Page 12
Thomas Moore. Just ere he dies , ) — at length those sounds of dread Fell withering on her soul , " Azim is dead ! " Oh , grief beyond all other griefs , when fate First leaves the young heart lone and desolate In the wide world ...
Thomas Moore. Just ere he dies , ) — at length those sounds of dread Fell withering on her soul , " Azim is dead ! " Oh , grief beyond all other griefs , when fate First leaves the young heart lone and desolate In the wide world ...
Page 13
... sound Of poesy and music breathed around , Together picturing to her mind and ear The glories of that heaven , her destined sphere , Where all was pure , where every stain that lay Upon the spirit's light should pass away , And ...
... sound Of poesy and music breathed around , Together picturing to her mind and ear The glories of that heaven , her destined sphere , Where all was pure , where every stain that lay Upon the spirit's light should pass away , And ...
Page 18
... sound ones too , Seen , heard , attested , everything — but true . Your preaching zealots , too inspired to seek One grace of meaning for the things they speak ; Your martyrs , ready to shed out their blood For truths too heavenly to be ...
... sound ones too , Seen , heard , attested , everything — but true . Your preaching zealots , too inspired to seek One grace of meaning for the things they speak ; Your martyrs , ready to shed out their blood For truths too heavenly to be ...
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Common terms and phrases
angel Arab Azim Baalbec beam beautiful beneath blest bliss blood bloom bosom bowers breath breeze bright brow burning Caliph Cashmere charm cheek dark dead Dead-Sea fruits dear death deep Dismal Swamp divine dread dream e'er earth eyes Fadladeen fair falchion feel Feramorz fire flame flowers Gazna gems genii Ghebers glory glow Hafed Haram hath heart heaven holy Holy Valley hope hour hung hyæna Iran Iran's Khorassan Lahore lake Lalla Rookh light lips look look'd lover lute lyre maid moonlight morning mountain ne'er never night Nourmahal nymph o'er pass'd Peri pure round satrap seem'd shade shed shine shone sigh skies slave sleep smile song soul sparkling spirit star sweet sword Tahmuras tear tell thee thine thou thought throne towers trembling turn'd Twas veil wandering warm wave weep wild wings wretch young youth Zelica
Popular passages
Page 439 - OH ! the days are gone, when Beauty bright My heart's chain wove ; When my dream of life from morn till night Was love, still love. New hope may bloom, And days may come Of milder, calmer beam, But there's nothing half so sweet in life As love's young dream : No, there's nothing half so sweet in life As love's young dream.
Page 421 - THERE is not in the wide world a valley so sweet, As that vale in whose bosom the bright waters meet ; Oh ! the last rays of feeling and life must depart, Ere the bloom of that valley shall fade from my heart.
Page 25 - 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 447 - To pine on the stem; Since the lovely are sleeping, Go, sleep thou with them. Thus kindly I scatter Thy leaves o'er the bed, Where thy mates of the garden Lie scentless and dead. So soon may / follow, When friendships decay, And from Love's shining circle The gems drop away.
Page 415 - Go where glory waits thee, But while fame elates thee, Oh ! still remember me. When the praise thou meetest To thine ear is sweetest, Oh ! then remember me. Other arms may press thee, Dearer friends caress thee, All the joys that bless thee Sweeter far may be; But when friends are nearest, And when joys are dearest, Oh ! then remember me.
Page 400 - This world is all a fleeting show For man's illusion given ; The smiles of joy, the tears of woe, Deceitful shine, deceitful flow, — There's nothing true but Heaven ! And false the light on glory's plume, As fading hues of even ; And Love, and Hope, and Beauty's bloom Are blossoms gathered for the tomb, — There's nothing bright but Heaven ! Poor wanderers of a stormy day, From wave to wave we're driven, And fancy's flash and reason's ray Serve but to light the troubled way, — There's nothing...
Page 60 - Now, upon SYRIA'S land of roses Softly the light of eve reposes, And, like a glory, the broad sun Hangs over sainted LEBANON ; Whose head in wintry grandeur towers, And whitens with eternal sleet, While summer, in a vale of flowers, Is sleeping rosy at his feet.
Page 398 - 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 460 - And a heart and a hand all thy own to the last. Oh ! what was love made for, if 'tis not the same Through joy and through torment, through glory and shame ? I know not, I ask not, if guilt's in that heart, I but know that I love thee, whatever thou art.
Page 460 - OH, where's the slave so lowly, Condemn'd to chains unholy, Who, could he burst His bonds at first, Would pine beneath them slowly ? What soul, whose wrongs degrade it, Would wait till time decay'd it, When thus its wing At once may spring To the throne of Him who made it f Farewell, Erin, — farewell, all, Who live to weep our fall...